Chapter 38 DAN
DAN
“What’s he doing here?” Elio spits, pacing the driveway of his home while on the phone to fuck knows who. His jaw ticks, and his hands clench at his sides as though he’s seconds away from throwing a punch.
I roll the sleeves of my shirt up to my elbows, the Mediterranean heat wrapping around me like a thick blanket, almost smothering. “He’s going to take care of things while I’m in the hospital.”
Dom lifts his case from the back of the taxi with a smirk on his face.
“Over my dead body!” Elio shouts.
Dom side-eyes me and mutters under his breath, “That can be arranged.”
“Be nice.” I grit the words between my teeth, my patience already wearing thin.
Elio throws his hands up in the air. “You moving your whole family into my home?”
“Nope. Just my brother. We’ll gladly stay at a hotel, but Angelos is coming with us.
I’ve been cleared as a match. Now I’m just waiting for the call to go under the knife.
And I don’t trust you to keep him safe in this house while I’m in the hospital.
Especially with Magnus on the loose.” I point to the security camera at the front of the building, showing Dom the shitty gear he has.
“That one needs replacing—it doesn’t pick up anyone who crosses the lawn.
I want a wider angle camera installed here. ”
Dom follows me into the house as I brush past Elio, ignoring the way he tenses at the contact. “Where’s Angelos?”
“In here.” The voice is warm, familiar, but aged with time. Rose’s mother sits in her wheelchair by the kitchen window, the sunlight casting deep shadows across her face. “I’ve just called the hospital. There’s been no change since last night and they’re keeping her in an induced coma for now.”
I nod, desperate to get back to the hospital to sit with her.
Lucia’s expression softens when she sees Dom enter the room. “Dominic? I haven’t seen you since you were a little boy.”
Dom furrows his brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”
She waves him over, her frail hand gesturing. “Come here, let me get a good look at you.”
Dom sets his case down and approaches.
Lucia pats Dom’s cheek with a nostalgic smile. “You have your father’s eyes.”
Across the room, Angelos scowls from the kitchen table, shovelling cereal into his mouth as if he’s trying to ignore the whole situation.
Dom flashes him a small, easy smile. “You must be Angelos.”
Angelos looks up warily, still chewing, then gives a stiff nod.
Dom ruffles his hair on the way past, casual and brotherly. “I’m your Uncle Dom. Don’t worry, kid—I'm the cool one.”
A tiny twitch of amusement flickers across Angelos’ mouth before he schools his expression back into teenage indifference.
Lucia chuckles softly. “He gets that from his mother.”
Dom smiles at Lucia. “I’m not so sure. Dan here has the same broody look. Not to mention the emotional range of a teaspoon. I mean, it’s taken him over a decade to admit he’s in love with your daughter.”
He’s not wrong. I glance at my watch, restless. Visiting hours aren’t for another hour, but I hate being away from her, knowing she’s lying in a hospital bed because of a bullet meant for me.
Elio stomps into the kitchen, eyes blazing. “You think you can come in here like you own the place?”
Lucia exhales tiredly. “Elio. We’ve discussed this. They’re here to keep me and Angelos safe.”
He shakes his head, scoffing. “Oh, so you’re taking their side now? Have you forgotten these two plotted to kill your husband? And now you welcome them in with open arms?” He drags a hand through his slicked-back hair, gripping it at the roots. “This is insane.”
My stomach twists at the mention of that man. “Your father was a piece of scum.” The words leave a bitter residue on my tongue. “He deserved to die. My only regret is not making it hurt like the twisted punishment he ordered for our mother.”
Elio stills, his expression morphing into a cruel snarl. “Your mother was a whore. She probably asked for it.”
Breath leaves my lungs in a rush.
My vision tunnels.
Dom barely has time to move before I slam my fist into Elio’s face, launching him back onto the kitchen table.
Angelos’ cereal bowl clatters to the floor. Milk spills along the wood grain, and Angelos shoves his chair back with a screech, darting towards his nonna.
Elio struggles beneath my grip, but I force him down, one hand fisting the front of his shirt.
My other hand snatches the closest thing—Angelos’ spoon.
I tighten my grip around the handle, a sharp, burning rage overtaking me.
I could take his eye out. Could serve it up in a bowl of soup for him to choke on.
In my head, I’ve already done it, but his eyes stop me.
Dark brown, but flecked with a deep shade of amber. Just like my brother’s.
My father’s voice a distant memory. Don’t harm the son.
A heavy click echoes behind me.
I freeze.
Elio’s security guard, Bruno, stands in the doorway, gun raised, the barrel trained between my shoulder blades. “Let him go.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. Every bone in my body wants to serve his eyeballs up on a platter, but Rose. I can’t get myself shot when she needs me.
I hear the metallic scrape of a knife sliding from a block before I even see it. “Put the gun down, or I’ll slit your throat before you pull the trigger.” Dom is next to Bruno with a knife at the guy’s throat in the blink of an eye.
“Enough.” Lucia's voice slices through the suffocating air, followed by a sharp cough as she fumbles for her oxygen mask. The room shifts.
Bruno hesitates before slowly lowering his gun. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Conti.”
She waves him off, then levels us all with a piercing look, her voice thick with frustration. “Hasn’t there been enough bloodshed?”
Dom exhales sharply and shoves the knife back into the block. I don’t release Elio—not yet. His lip is split, blood trickling down his chin, but his eyes still burn with pure hatred.
I clench my fist tighter around his shirt. “You mention my mother again, and I’ll end you. Regardless of what my father’s wishes were.”
Elio scoffs. “What’s your father got to do with this?”
The room falls deathly silent.
Rose’s mother pulls her mask away, her gaze landing on Elio. Anguish flashes across her face. “Because, Elio… he was your father too.”
The words slam into me like a bullet. I don’t move. Can’t move. The whole room tilts, the weight of what she just said pressing down on me like a collapsing building. My ears ring, my heartbeat a brutal, unsteady drum against my ribs.
“No. No fucking way.” Elio stares at me with the same shock, the same disbelief, the same stubborn refusal to accept what we’ve just been told flickering in his eyes. My father? His father? The same man?
My head screams no, but I see it for the first time. The resemblance. He has the same features as my son. I thought it was through Rose, but it’s me.
I stumble backwards, trying to form words, but my throat is tight, locked down by the thick and suffocating weight of her words.
Elio lets out a sharp, humourless laugh, but it’s jagged and broken. “You’re lying.” His voice is raw.
Rose’s mother shakes her head, her frail hands gripping the blanket over her lap. “No, Elio. I should have told you years ago, but I—”
“Shut up.” His voice cracks on the words, but he covers it up with anger, turning it into a weapon.
He rises from the table and jabs a finger at her, his entire body trembling with fury.
“Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you dare try to rewrite history.
You’re just saying this to protect them.
” He whips towards me and Dom, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched so tight I think his teeth might crack. “Ain’t no fucking way I’m a Bianchi.”
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat, threatening to choke me. One word on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too afraid of the answer. If he’s my blood, does that mean…
“Rose?” I blurt out. Acid coats my mouth as I wretch, my hand flying to my mouth, holding my breath. Not Rose. Is that why the tests said I was a good match for her? My eyes flick to our son. Our perfect son that we made out of love. She can’t be my…
Lucia shakes her head. “Rose belongs to my husband. There’s no doubt.”
I let out a breath, leaning over the sink, needing a drink of water.
Some tension leaves my body, making the weight on my shoulders a little lighter.
Turning around to face them again, I check on my son, his frame glued to his nonna’s side.
It’s like history repeating itself. So many lies have been told over the years.
Is this how he felt when he found out I was his father?
“She’s lying,” Elio says again. “Tell them.”
Lucia drops her head with tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. Deep-set wrinkles across her brow tell a story of struggle.
I wish she were lying.
I wish this were just some manipulation tactic, some power play, some sick, twisted game.
But I know it’s not.
I see it in her eyes. In Dom’s wide-eyed stare. In the way Elio is standing there, unravelling in real time.
My stomach twists, rage battling internally. I take a breath, but it’s ragged. “You’re my brother.” The words taste wrong on my tongue. Like poison and betrayal.
Elio’s throat bobs, his expression fragile for a brief moment. “Fuck you.”
He shoves past me, storming out of the kitchen as if he can outrun this truth.
A heavy silence lingers in his wake.
Rose’s mother exhales, sagging into her chair as if the weight of her own secret has drained the last bit of strength from her. “I never meant to hurt him.”
Dom folds his arms, his face as conflicted as mine. “Well, this explains a lot.”
I turn to Dom, searching his face for some kind of confirmation that this is bullshit, that this isn’t real, that our father wasn’t keeping this kind of secret from us our whole damn lives.