Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Dante
There are many things I’ve done as a man, as a Capo, and as a father. Many things that have worked out, and even some that have failed utterly. But nothing has been quite like matching my son Leon with Cleo.
I can’t in good conscience say the union failed completely.
My grandsons are not the result of failure, and I’d never allow anyone to argue differently.
Bastian and Leo Moretti are welcome little blessings in all of our lives, and perfect additions to the family.
Leo with his beaming personality, and Bastian with his reserved manners and quiet kindness.
They would never be a part of our lives if Leon didn’t marry Cleo.
We also may not be burying their mother so soon if I had made different decisions.
A hidden terminal illness was something I could have never predicted.
Something that now that I’m aware of it, makes me feel downright murderous.
In all my years of experience, my son’s predicament is a situation like I’ve never seen.
We were lied to, kept in the dark, and frankly, betrayed.
Signing a marriage contract under false pretenses while hiding vital information that could sway the deal is an offense that only someone with a death wish would risk.
Whether they wish for it or not, death is coming for Cleo’s parents.
It’s up to Leon to determine when and how, but I know he’ll agree with my assessment.
Those people deserve to die, not only for deceiving me and my son, but for putting their only daughter through something so diabolical.
As far as I’m aware, my son’s departed wife didn’t beg him to spare her parents with her last breaths, nor in the weeks leading up to her end.
If she wanted them to be granted mercy, she would have asked for it.
Either she assumed her wish wouldn’t be obeyed, or she didn’t care if her mother and father were punished for their traitorous actions.
If it were up to me, I’d give them to Nico to torture.
He’d enjoy the gift, and I’d sleep soundly knowing that the disgusting excuse for parents were dealt with accordingly.
I can’t imagine doing anything even close to what they did, especially not to my daughter.
If I knew that any of my children would die before they turned twenty-six, the last thing I would do would be force them into a marriage for a fucking alliance.
I would give them the fullest life they could imagine, and pray like hell that a cure comes out of the blue.
Well, out of the blue, or as a result of the fortune I would spend searching for one myself.
As infuriated as I am with her parents, my emotions are more jumbled in regard to my daughter-in-law.
I don’t know how Cleo could lie to Leon for years—and hide her condition for so long—but I find myself feeling more angry for her than angry at her.
She was just a girl whose parents turned her into the cold, dying woman that she was.
At least she was good to her children. Bastian and Leo adored her, and if they were any older, I expect the reality of her death would be hitting them much harder than it has thus far.
It’s only been two days since we informed them, but they’ve been going strong.
I’m going to be leaving soon, back to my home with the rest of our family, and I don’t know whether I should be worried about how missing my presence will affect them.
Apollo and Rayna will be here for much longer, and that fact alone makes needing to leave a bit easier on me.
My grandsons are tough boys, but they’re only five and four.
They shouldn’t have to face the death of a parent so young, but having the right support around them should help ease the transition.
“How are the boys?”
Leon frowns, and I don’t think he even realizes that his face reacts before he can respond.
We’ve been sitting outside of his house for a few minutes, sharing a drink and allowing the sounds of nature to flow around us while Apollo and Rayna watch the kids.
They’re enjoying some kind of colorful children’s movie inside, winding down after dinner and taking turns holding their baby cousin.
There’s a bit of a chill in the evening air out here, and I assume it’ll drop even lower as the moon begins to take the sun’s place.
Once the children are in bed, I’ll be headed back to take over for Cassio.
Naturally, as my third born, he’s been holding things down while Apollo, Leon, and I are unavailable.
I’m thankful that I don’t need to worry about his ability to keep order for me, but know that he prefers his position as my consigliere rather than more rigid leadership roles.
“Fine,” my son answers in a mutter. “They don’t really understand that she’s never coming back. They think she’s visiting heaven with Uncle Cesar. She told them herself that when she was gone, she couldn’t come home again. They’re just too young to know what that even means.”
“They’re in good spirits,” I point out with a hum and a nod. “That might be as much as we can hope for, at least for now. You boys all handled your mother’s passing in different ways. Grief can be a strange thing, especially in your youth.”
Matteo was only eight when Alina killed herself.
Our youngest son wasn’t much older than Bastian is now—only a three-year difference—and he won’t refer to his mother as anything other than her name.
Granted, Alina was nowhere near as loving to her children as Cleo was.
Still, it hit all of my sons in different ways, Leon probably the hardest. He was her golden son, the only one of our children to take more after her than he did me.
Her hair, her nose, her lips, and the softer blue of her eyes.
“Nico didn’t even blink, Matteo was angry and tried to hide it with humor, I still don’t know how Armani felt about it, and Apollo simply dealt with it by taking her place as the second parent. It was hard for you, I know it was, but you were older, and you had her in your life for much longer.”
Leon was eighteen, almost nineteen, and he was already readying to find a wife and start his life as my Underboss. He was noticeably hurt and depressed when his mother died, but he was also able to distract himself. Life moves on, and made men understand this better than anyone else.
“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “I just hate that this is happening to them, and I feel bad for this fucking—” Cutting himself off, he shakes his head.
“You can say it,” I encourage with a stern look. “Don’t hold it in when I’m the only one here to listen. You know you can say whatever you want to me, Son. It’s better to get out whatever is bubbling up than to let it fester.”
He takes a deep swallow of his drink, polishing off the rest of the dark liquor and drops his glass to the outdoor table with a sharp thud.
“I feel like I should miss her, or fucking I don’t know, cry because she’s fucking dead.
Dead, Dad. She’s gone forever and I don’t care that she lost her life, I care about how it’s going to affect my kids.
I’m so fucking mad at her for leaving them, and I should be sad that she’s dead.
Fuck, Dad. I feel like the worst person on the planet because I kind of fucking hate her. ”
My heart clenches and I wonder when the last time I heard my levelheaded son go off like this was. He’s not an easily angered man, at least not until his anger becomes necessary for his position. Oh, he’s strong and stern as a leader, of course. But this is something else entirely.
“Resentment can eat you, Son,” I tell him grimly.
“But it’s natural, and I’d be more surprised if you didn’t hate her at least a little bit.
I hated your mother. I despised what she did and how she hid her illness.
I resented her for not treating you boys better, and those feelings were mine to carry.
I only confided in Cesar, much like you’ve just confided in me.
You haven’t made these feelings known to your kids, nor have you scorned Cleo’s memory publicly. Internal feelings aren’t crimes, Leon.”
“You hated her, huh?” he asks, sounding grumpy and doubtful. “You’ve never said a bad word against her.”
“I haven’t,” I confirm. “But I wasn’t a saint in that relationship either.
When she told me she was done with me after Matteo’s birth, I didn’t exactly wait it out before meeting other women.
I was relieved, honestly. Feeling human connection that was genuine, and didn’t come with strings…
it was nice. I commend you for not doing the same, honestly. ”
“You were married for a whole lot longer than I was,” Leon counters, shaking his head. “I almost kissed Rayna, I’m not completely innocent. And besides, if you didn’t take her at her word, we wouldn’t have Jade.”
I smile fondly, thinking of my daughter. “And that’s why I’ll never regret it.”
“And you shouldn’t,” he grunts. “But that makes one of us. Apollo still looks at me like I want to snatch away his wife. Never mind that she hated him when we had our almost moment. Never mind that they have a literal child now.”
“He’s a possessive man.” I smother an amused snort. “And he knows you wouldn’t try to steal away Rayna. Despite your moment, which I was unaware of until now—”
“Fuck,” Leon groans. “I never mentioned it, did I?”
“No, and neither did your brother. Which means it’s not as big of a deal as you may think it is.”
Judging by the way he talks about it, it was months before Apollo and Rayna got together, and an almost-kiss isn’t a kiss. Leon and Rayna are good friends; I can understand why they may have had a moment of being drawn to one another.
“But my point is, you shouldn’t hang on to any guilt you may feel in that regard.
I know that Cleo gave you permission to have a mistress.
You could have done a lot worse than almost kissing a woman.
God knows I indulged in more than just Jade’s mother in the eight years that Alina wanted nothing to do with me. ”
“I couldn’t do it,” he mumbles dejectedly.
“Take her offer, I mean. She said I could sleep with whoever I want, even keep a woman or two as my own. But how do you live two different lives that way? Casual sex isn’t intimacy, it’s empty.
And I can’t exactly fall in love with another woman while shackled to one by law and honor. ”
“Leon…”
He clears his throat, shaking his head to brush off the topic. “It doesn’t matter. She’s gone and I have other priorities now.”
“Yeah?” I ask, seeing that something else is clearly weighing on him.
“Yeah,” he confirms. Our eyes meet with direct contact and he says something that I’m not at all prepared to hear. “I need a new wife.”