Chapter 47
“Will I be adding more sins to my long list if I say I don’t feel the slightest bit sorry for her, Gianni?” Mamma asks after our Sunday lunch, when we’re all gathered in the TV room watching the recording Tommaso brought.
In it, Capria’s family gardener gives his version of the facts about his relationship with signorina Mancini, as he calls her.
The man, who is married with four kids, admitted he got involved with her in a moment of weakness but has no intention of leaving his wife or children to marry his employers’ daughter, though he does intend to help raise the baby.
At that, Donatella bursts out laughing.
“For someone who dreamed of marrying an Andresano heir, being rejected by the family gardener must be one hell of a blow.”
I stand up, with no desire to keep watching.
I was the one who ordered that interview. The child really is the gardener’s, Guido, but he only agreed to go public with the affair in exchange for a nice financial incentive.
Rarely in my life have I let an enemy know they struck me. I’m the kind who plans my counterattack in silence, but in this particular case, I wanted her to know it was me who exposed her.
What Guido doesn’t know, but I do, is that there’s no baby anymore. The same day I exposed her, she scheduled an abortion. I know because ever since I thought she might be carrying my child, I had someone watching her.
She never wanted the child. What she wanted was leverage to trap me. Or, according to Abaddon and Tommaso, some sort of insurance policy that would guarantee her a comfortable life, even with her father’s bankruptcy.
“I could call her crazy, but I think she’s just rotten to the core,” my brother Gaetano says, following me into the hall with Tommaso.
“She’s not crazy. She’s an opportunist. She wanted to tie Gianni down, and maybe thought that once they married and the baby was born, our brother wouldn’t demand a paternity test,” Tommaso says. “Did you notice the gardener has the same build as you?”
Yes, he’s right. The man could easily pass as my brother.
“Even if I’d still been with her, I would’ve demanded the test anyway.”
“Son, can I have a word?” my mother asks, joining us in the corridor.
“Yes,” I say, slipping an arm around her shoulders as I walk her away from the others. “What’s wrong?”
“How are things with Elodie?”
“They’re not. As you know, I spent a week in New Orleans. I couldn’t even get close to her. Her brother-in-law built a wall around her. A friend of mine,” I say, not naming Abaddon, “thinks she’s not even in Louisiana anymore. She doesn’t want to be found, Mamma.”
“Then maybe you should wait. Let time do its work.”
“I’m not good at letting things resolve themselves.”
“You know something I learned after beating my head against the wall for years, Gianni? Sometimes we have to let life follow its natural course. If it’s meant to be ours, it will be.
The universe will spin a thousand times, but it will return to the starting point, and you’ll find each other again.
Elodie must be deeply hurt. She was humiliated publicly, and I, more than anyone, know what it’s like to carry the stigma of being ‘the other woman.’”
I pull her into my arms, holding her close.
My mother has been refusing to see Dino. After his separation from Carina, his visits were already rare, and a few days ago I learned why: he’s been parading around Europe with girls my sisters’ age.
I think that was Mamma’s breaking point.
After years of suffering in silence, I believe she hoped that now that he was free, the bastard would finally acknowledge her. Instead, he chose to run wild with young women.
“I need her to end it looking me in the eyes, Mamma, because that’s who I am. Until then, to me, Elodie is my woman.”
“You’re as stubborn as I am. That’s not a good thing. It brings pain, my son.”
“I won’t keep pressing her family. She can’t hide forever. At some point, she’ll have to show up.”
“And until then, you won’t live your life?”
“I don’t want another woman, Mamma. I want mine. The one I hurt. The bold Romniya with the sharp tongue. I’ll only give up when we’re face to face again and she tells me it’s over.”
“You’re in love.”
“I don’t like labels.”
“Not naming something doesn’t stop it from being what it is.”
“I have to go, Mamma. Be well. Will you call me if you need anything?”
“I will.”
I kiss her cheek and start walking away.
“Gianni?”
“Yes?”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m certain she was in love, too.”
“I know. She may hate me right now, but she’s mine as much as I’m hers.”
“Is something else worrying you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Yes, I do. Mamma noticed I doubled the security around the girls.
“You do know. I mean the way Donatella and Giovanna are being followed by an army of bodyguards.”
For a moment, I consider telling her about my grandmother’s secret—her mother’s.
How can she not know?
“Mamma, did you ever talk to Nonna about her past?”
Her expression shifts to tense, which puts me on alert. “What are you talking about?”
“About your mother’s life before marriage.”
“No,” she answers, a little too quickly, then adds, “Did you talk to her about it?”
It’s awkward as hell speaking in code, but now I’m certain she knows what I mean, or at least suspects.
I’m tired of so many secrets, so I decide to test her:
“Yes, she told me everything.”
She goes pale. “Gianni…”
“I just want you to know the girls will be protected. There’s no risk. But I do need to ask you one thing.”
“What?”
“Why not you?”
She turns her back and starts walking away. When she reaches the door, she glances over her shoulder.
“Maybe I’m the lucky one in the family.”