Chapter Fifty
ORAZIO
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Numb . That was how Raz felt. He felt numb after getting rid of one problematic parent, only to have another one magically appear. One who’d walked away from them years ago and hadn’t dared spoken to or visited them at all.
Yet, there she stood, smiling at them, calling them son . As if his fucking brothers hadn’t been through enough bullshit to scar them for a fucking lifetime. He couldn’t deal with this shit right now.
He continued forward with Monique by his side. He knew his Rosa must have questions. He’d answer them all once they were clear of this building, once they were away from that woman .
Not taking the hint, the woman who birthed him moved to the side, stepping in his way, blocking his path. Raz was three seconds away from sending her to meet his father when the sound of coughing drew his attention away from his mother.
He looked left, and that’s when he saw Miconi’s team helping the old man toward the exit. One of the guards was carrying a battered Isla Miconi in his arms. The guard’s gaze met Raz.
The man looked ready to kill. Raz smirked. The guard stepped in his direction, only stopping when Miconi scoffed, the sound making the guard fall back in line. With the way Raz was feeling right now, he hoped they all fell out of line.
Yeah, he was tired. But not too tired to resist giving the cleaners more work to clean up. Raz’s mother noticed Isla and Frederico and rushed over to them, the guards stepping aside as if they knew her.
It was at that moment that all the pieces fell together for Raz. She was the one who’d sent these motherfuckers his way. She was the one who’d sent Isla to him and put Miconi on Rose’s trail.
When his mother reached Isla, the younger woman’s swollen eyes fluttered open like she could sense her ally’s presence even in her beaten state. The sight of the two of them together made Raz’s skin crawl.
His mother looked down at Isla, her tone soft, sympathetic. “Isla, dear, what happened? Who did this to you?”
Isla whimpered, her voice a broken whisper. “Mo...nique. Raz’s woman,” she slurred, her busted lips barely forming the words.
Raz’s mother turned her gaze toward him and Monique, anger flashing in her eyes before she focused her glare squarely at him. “I sent Isla here to you, Orazio,” she began, voice laced with reproach.
As if she had the motherfucking right to reprimand him. But another thought struck him. So, that’s how she sounds. He hadn’t heard her speak in so long that he’d forgotten her voice. He’d forgotten his mother’s voice.
“I know I haven’t been very present in your life...” she started.
“Nonexistent,” Raz cut her off, his voice a low growl. “You don’t exist in my life, lady. In any of our lives.” He didn’t miss the way she flinched at his words, but he felt no pity.
She straightened, regaining her composure. “Be that as it may, once I heard you were in control of the family business and the organization, I sent someone to help you. Someone who knew what it took to stand beside a don. She was my gift to you.”
Raz’s lip curled in disgust. “I’ve never asked you for anything. You can keep your gifts. I don’t accept handouts from strangers.”
His mother’s gaze narrowed as she glanced at Monique. “Even if you didn’t want her, you shouldn’t have allowed your... her ,” she sneered. “You shouldn’t have let her try to kill her.”
Raz took a step forward, ready to drag this woman, this stranger, out of this building and out of their lives once and for all. But Monique’s grip on his arm tightened. That was the only thing that kept him from dragging his mother out and tossing her on her ass. He took a deep breath, forcing his fury into a calm, icy mask.
“Her name is Monique Rose,” Raz told the older woman, his voice dangerously calm. “Soon to be Monique Cattaneo. And the next person who says anything disrespectful to her or about her will get a bullet to the chest. In fact, don’t even look at her because I’m feeling trigger-happy.”
Eyes focused on him, his mother asked, “Why did she do this to Isla?”
Before Raz could answer, Frederico spoke up, his voice gravelly. “My daughter tried to kill Monique after I ordered her not to. You put it in her head that she should be the wife of the new Don Cattaneo. And you sold me on it, too, which makes this just as much my fault. You offered to invest in her business, promising her enough security to silence her board if she married your son and reported the actions of him and his brothers to you. If you wanted to get to know them, you should have come to them yourself. Not used us.” He shook his head, pain evident in his voice. “I was so blinded by my own desires that I didn’t see anything wrong with the plan. Now, I see the flaws. All of our flaws, Yours, mine, and my daughter’s.”
His mother’s face hardened. “Flaws? There were no flaws in my plan. It must be the pain meds talking, Frederico. What happened to you? Did... did one of my sons do this to you?”
Raz crossed his arms, his voice cold. “I did. What are you gonna do? Put me in time-out?”
She tensed but didn’t look back at him.
“We’re leaving,” Frederico said, signaling his guards. “My daughter and I are going to the hospital.” His gaze shifted to Raz, his eyes dark. “Our conversation isn’t over, Mr. Cattaneo. And Rose...”
Raz’s voice was pure steel when he growled, “You don’t know a Rose. You never did, and you never will. Keep it that way, or we’ll have problems much bigger than the ones we already have.”
Frederico glared at him, his guards bristling, but a quick wave of his hand held them in place. As they turned to leave, Raz kept his eyes on his mother, watching with a strange sense of satisfaction settling over him at the lost look in her gaze.
He didn’t truly know what her intentions had been for sending them his way. Neither did he care because the simple truth was that he wanted nothing to do with her. There had been a time when he had wanted her.
A time when he’d prayed she’d come home. When he’d stared at other kids with their moms hugging them and wished he’d had that. Those types of hugs never came. And now, he no longer needed that, at least not from her.
Once the Miconis were gone, his mother turned to face him, stepping forward as if to close the gap between them. Raz raised his hand, and she stopped, eyes narrowing. The woman blinked back tears as she spoke.
“Please believe me when I say I just wanted to help. And this, helping you this way, seemed like the kind of help you needed. I want to have a relationship with you all. You may not believe this, but I missed you three. I’ve thought of you all every single day.”
Ignoring her bullshit, Raz looked over his shoulder at his brothers, taking in their expressions. Cas looked ready to vomit while Rome’s gaze was fixed on the floor, unwilling to look at the woman who’d abandoned them all those years ago. That sight only stoked the flames of Raz’s anger and brought back memories he’d tried to forget.
Memories of Cas asking why they didn’t have a mother like other kids did. Memories of Rome asking if they behaved better, would their mother come back. And now, she was right there in front of them, yet one of his brothers looked like he was about to be sick, and the other couldn’t even look at the woman.
Raz returned his gaze to his mother, his voice a sneer. “Look at us. Do any of us look like we’re in the mood to deal with whatever it is you want to deal with right now? Do any of us look like we want you in our lives?”
The anger drained from her face, replaced by something almost vulnerable as she took in the expressions of each of her sons.
“I know this is sudden, but let me explain, Raz,” she pleaded.
He scoffed. “Save your explanations for the children you actually raised. Not the ones you left.”
“I had no choice. Your father was a horrible man,” she started. “I...”
“You just said he was a horrible man, and yet, you left us with him,” Raz interrupted, his voice thick with disdain. “You left us with someone you feared. Someone horrible. Someone who hurt you. You left your three babies with someone you were afraid of and never came back for them or sent help when you could. What does that say about you?”
Her face paled, her carefully composed mask cracking under his words.
“Go home,” he told her, his voice exhausted, resigned. “You’re years and hundreds of emotional scars too late to play the loving mother. I understand why you left. But you need to understand that we’re no longer the boys you left behind. We no longer need your help or your support. And you obviously never needed us. So, let this, whatever this is, go.” He looked down at Monique, his voice softening as he whispered, “I’m tired. Let’s go home, love.”
Monique nodded, her gaze filled with quiet understanding. Together, they turned toward the exit, followed by his brothers, young Denver, Leo, and Monique’s friends. As they passed his mother, she reached out as if to stop him, her hand brushing his arm.
Raz felt a surge of discomfort, but before he could pull away, Monique’s voice cut through the tension.
“Don’t touch him,” his Rosa hissed. “You don’t know him well enough to touch him.”
His mother jerked her hand back. “I’m his mother...”
“Mother is just a title,” Monique replied. “I have one too. We all have one. But not everyone has a mom, someone who protects them from the world. You’re not his mom. You left and never looked back. A mother doesn’t do that. You may not have had the courage to protect him, but I do. So, don’t touch my Raz.” She looked up at him. “Let’s go home.”
Raz couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
Together, they continued toward the exit. They were almost at the double doors when Cas’s voice broke the silence, forcing Raz to stop and look back. Cas, standing with Meka by his side, was staring at their mother, a conflicted expression on his face.
“I just have one question,” Cas said, his voice thick with emotion.
“Come on, Cas,” Rome urged.
“Not yet,” Cas said. “I have one question.” He met their mother’s eyes. “Will you answer it truthfully?”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she whispered, “Of course, son.”
“Don’t call me that.”
She flinched, going silent.
Cas took a deep breath and released it slowly before asking his question. “Was Don Cattaneo, the old don, my father? Or was the man I thought was my uncle... uncle Patrick, was he... my real father?”
The color drained from her face. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. However, the truth was there in her silence. She looked so upset, so broken, that Raz felt sorry for her. He hated that she’d experienced hell at the hands of his father and uncle.
He hated that she’d left Cas behind, not knowing whether or not he’d experience hell also. Cas was his responsibility. And as his big brother, he had to put Cas first. And he knew this was going to hurt his little brother for a very long time.
Finally finding her voice, she whispered, “I... How... How did you find out?”
Cas’s shoulders slumped, and he seemed to cave in on himself. Rome started in Cas’s direction but paused when Meka gently rubbed Cas’s back, her touch causing his shoulders to go back and motivating him to stand up straight again. Raz watched Cas stand tall for the woman he loved. His little brother’s gaze jerked to Meka’s.
“Let’s go home and talk about it,” Meka murmured softly. “We’ll get through this together. We’ll get through everything together.”
With a small nod, Cas leaned down and pressed a kiss to Meka’s forehead, then looked over at Raz. “Let’s go. There’s nothing left for us to do here.”
Raz nodded.
“First stop, hospital,” Rome insisted as they strode out of the building, leaving their father behind for the crew to clean up and leaving their mother standing, staring after them.
Raz loved his family. But he also understood that not all family was blood-related and not everyone who was blood-related should be considered family. Family were the ones who stood by you, the ones who fought beside you, the ones you protected and who protected you.
Family were the ones who chose to show up when you needed them. And right now, Raz was surrounded by family. With his Rose by his side, he headed to the car awaiting them, leaving the ghosts of their past behind.
And there was something else they were leaving behind. That was years of generational baggage. They’d been taught that love was weakness. They’d been taught that only family would have your back.
They’d been taught so many things that were wrong. The women with them were showing them that love wasn’t a weakness. It made you strong. Especially the love of a good woman.
The love of a good woman could even make a man out of a don who thought he knew everything.