Chapter 20
Damiano
The surgeon looks at me, his expression grave. “I warn you, he’s very weak.”
I wasn’t expecting this. I thought Dad would refuse to see me, and that his last act would be to curse me for what I’ve done. Lucy squeezes my hand once, and I see the worry in her eyes.
I follow the surgeon down the sterile corridor, our footsteps echoing off the linoleum. He stops at a door, pushes it open, and gestures me inside.
“Five minutes,” he repeats quietly.
The ICU is cold and filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines. Tubes and wires run from my father’s body to various monitors. An oxygen mask covers his nose and mouth, fogging with each labored breath.
I approach the bed slowly. His eyes are closed, his skin ashen. This is the man who ruled my life and Malus with an iron fist. He commanded respect and fear from every family in the city. Now he can barely breathe.
His eyelids flutter open, and his formerly sharp, calculating eyes struggle to focus as they fix on me. He reaches up with a trembling hand and pulls the oxygen mask down slightly. His voice is a rasp, barely audible over the machines.
“Damiano.”
I stand at his bedside, my hands clenched at my sides. “I’m here.”
He studies my face for a long moment. The silence stretches between us, filled only by the beeping monitors and his labored breathing. My stomach clenches as I anticipate what’s coming.
“You and Lucy.” Each word is an effort. “You’re not blood siblings, are you?”
“No. We’re not related. We met the day my father and sister died in the meth lab explosion. I lied to you for ten years so I could protect her and keep her with me.”
I wait for the final curse of a dying man, but Dad just closes his eyes and takes several ragged breaths.
“I should have seen it,” he finally says. “All these years. The way you looked at her. The way you protected her.”
“You’re not angry?”
He makes a sound that might be a laugh. “Angry? I’m dying. I don’t have time for anger.” He pauses, struggling for air. “Lucy kept her suspicions about Andreas to herself, and lying here, I have been wondering what I would have done if she came to me with them.”
“You wouldn’t have believed her,” I say bitterly.
“No, I wouldn’t have.” He coughs again. “The girl. I never wanted her. Never trusted her. But she saved this family. She’s smarter than I gave her credit for. Smarter than half my capos.”
Hearing him finally acknowledge Lucy and what she’s capable of makes my body unclench.
“She’s everything,” I tell him.
“The way you killed for her today. That’s not a brother’s love. That’s the love of a man for his woman.”
“I have loved her for a long time.”
Dad closes his eyes. “I chose power. I married your mother for an alliance. We have always respected and honored each other. But you chose love, and I thought that made you weak. Today I watched you stand in that church with a gun in your hand, ready to die for her. That’s not weakness.”
“Lucy only makes me stronger,” I say fiercely.
“Listen to me.” His hand reaches out, grabs my wrist with surprising strength. “The Sokolis won’t forgive this. Lucy exposed their spy and humiliated them. They’ll want revenge.”
“I’ll protect her.”
“You’re the don now,” he rasps. “The family will be yours. The business. The territory. All of it.”
The weight of those words settles on my shoulders.
“No one’s ever ready for this, but don’t make my mistakes, Damiano.
” He looks at me with something that might be regret.
“I never knew you. Never really saw you. The girl loves you. Don’t waste that.
” His breathing is becoming more labored, the beeps on the monitor speeding up then slowing down.
“Protect the family. Your mother and sister. Lucy. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
His hand releases my wrist and falls to the bed. His eyes are starting to close. The monitor’s beeping grows erratic. I should call for the surgeon. I should do something.
Dad speaks so quietly that I have to lean close to hear him. “You were a good son,” he whispers. “Better than I deserved.”
The monitor flatlines. The long, steady beep fills the room.
I stand there, staring at the body of the man who taught me to lead. The man who never showed me love.
He’s gone.
And I’m the don now.
I step back as the nurses and a doctor rush in. I stand at Dad’s bedside for another moment, looking at his face. In death, he looks peaceful.
I then turn and walk out of the ICU.
Lucy is waiting in the hallway, her face pale with worry. As soon as she sees me, she knows.
“He’s gone,” I tell her.
She wraps her arms around me, and I hold her tight. Over her shoulder, I can see Mom and Ariana in the waiting room. I have to tell them and face what comes next.
I take Lucy’s hand and walk into the waiting room. Mom looks up at me, her face streaked with tears. She already knows. She can see it in my face.
“No,” she whispers. “Please, no.”
“He’s gone, Mom. I’m sorry.”
She lets out a long, anguished wail and slumps to her knees. Ariana, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks, gets up and goes to Mom. She can’t make her get up off the floor, so Ariana stays down there holding her, rocking her mother back and forth.
“Twenty-seven years,” Mom sobs. “Twenty-seven years, and he’s gone. I have nothing.”
Ariana strokes her hair gently. “Mom, you still have us.”
“Nothing,” Mom repeats, her voice cracking with raw pain. “I gave him everything. My youth. My freedom. My whole life. It can’t just end like this.”
The bitterness in her voice is laced with grief, not just for Dad, but for the life she gave up. I understand suddenly why she hates Lucy so much. They’re so much alike, strong and smart, but Lucy refuses the duty and obedience that Mom chose to embrace.
Mom catches me watching. Her tear-streaked face hardens, and her vulnerability vanishes behind cold rage.
Her glare shifts to Lucy. “This is your fault. If you’d been a proper daughter and married Andreas without all this drama, Carlucci would still be alive.
You killed him. And I will never forgive you. Never.”
She clutches Ariana and sobs.
Lucy turns away and buries her face in my shoulder.
There should probably be tears somewhere inside me for the man I’ve called my father for so many years. But I just feel hollow and heavy. I can feel the weight of leadership settling on my shoulders.
Lucy and I hold each other in silence, intruders upon our own family’s grief.