Chapter 18 Alessandro #2
“I was twenty years old,” he says, his voice raw with pain.
“My father had just…he’d just destroyed an innocent girl.
I was told to fix it. To do something that I didn’t really want to do.
Sophia was a stranger to me. I barely knew her, let alone wanted to marry her.
Giuseppe kept telling me that as the heir to the DeLuca family, I needed to step up.
As if this was all my fault. So I did my duty. I married Sophia to legitimize you—”
Bianca winces and I sit on my hands, resisting the urge to wrap her in my arms.
Matteo notices Bianca’s flinch and he sighs, looking weary. “Please understand that I was twenty years old, Bianca, and Giuseppe’s word was law. I had every intention of being a good husband and financially caring for Sophia’s baby—my…my half-sister.”
He abruptly stands up and walks to his window, his eyes far away, lost in his memories.
“And then you were born, Bianca. You were born and you were perfect and innocent. I fell in love the moment I saw you all tiny and wrinkled and red.” He smiles faintly at the memory.
“And I thought—” His voice breaks completely and Bianca stifles a sob.
“I thought, ‘This child deserves a father who loves her. This child deserves to grow up feeling wanted and cherished, not like she’s the result of something terrible.’” He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“So I chose to be that father. Every day for nineteen years, I chose to be your dad.” He turns to face her, his eyes bright.
“You’ve never been Giuseppe’s daughter. You’ve always been mine. ”
I watch Bianca’s face as she processes this, seeing the war between her hurt and her understanding.
“But you never gave me the choice,” she says softly, wiping her face with the tissue I discreetly pass her. “You decided what I could handle, when I could handle it, how much truth I deserved to know.”
“Because I was terrified of losing you,” Matteo admits brokenly. “Because I knew that learning the truth might change how you saw yourself, how you saw me, how you saw our family. And I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me with anything other than love.”
The room falls silent except for the sound of both of them crying.
I find myself moved by the raw emotion, by watching two people who love each other desperately trying to find their way back to each other through the wreckage of broken trust.
“He chose to be your father when no one else would,” I say quietly, echoing words I used earlier. “Giuseppe certainly wasn’t going to step up. Matteo made the choice to love you and raise you as his own. That choice matters more than anything.”
Bianca looks at me then back at Matteo. “But the foundation of that choice was built on deception.”
“The explanation was deceptive,” I correct gently. “The choice itself was genuine. The love was genuine. The nineteen years of protection and guidance and sacrifice—all of that was real.”
Matteo nods and straightens in his chair, seeming to gather his courage.
“I should have told you when you turned eighteen,” he says.
“Or when you found out you weren’t my biological daughter.
I kept waiting for the right moment, and that waiting became a habit of avoidance.
” He spreads his hands out on his desk. “And for that, I’m sorry. ”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Bianca asks, biting her lip as if she’s not sure she wants to know the answer.
Matteo considers the question seriously. “Honestly? Probably not. Because every year that passed made the truth harder to reveal. And because I convinced myself that protecting you from that knowledge was more important than your right to know.”
Bianca scowls. “That should have been my choice to make.”
“You’re right. It should have been.” Matteo looks directly at Bianca. “I failed you in that regard. I prioritized my own fear of losing you over your autonomy. That was wrong.”
The great Matteo DeLuca admitting he’s wrong.
I never thought I would ever see the day.
And from the look on Bianca’s face, neither did she.
“I need you to understand something,” she says carefully. “I can’t just go back to how things were before. I can’t pretend this revelation didn’t change everything about how I see myself and my place in this family.”
“I don’t expect you to,” Matteo replies quickly. “I just hope we can find a way forward that doesn’t require us to be enemies.”
“I don’t want to be your enemy,” Bianca says, fresh tears starting to flow. “But I also don’t know how to be your daughter anymore. Not the way I was before.”
The pain in both their voices is almost unbearable.
I find myself thinking about the complexity of family relationships, how love and hurt can coexist, and how the people who mean the most to us often have the greatest power to wound us.
“Maybe you don’t have to figure that out right now,” I cut in, trying to redirect the conversation. “Maybe you can start with something smaller. Like rebuilding trust. Like having honest conversations about what you both need going forward.”
Bianca nods slowly. “I need to know that there won’t be any more lies. Ever. About anything.”
“You have my word,” Matteo says immediately.
“And I need space to figure out who I am now that I know the truth about Giuseppe,” Bianca continues, her back ramrod straight. “About what that means for my future, for my role in this family.”
“Whatever space you need,” he agrees.
“But I also need…” She pauses, struggling with the admission as she looks to me. I nod at her. “I need to know that your guidance is still available. The training you gave me, the strategic thinking, the knowledge about how this world really works—I need access to that.”
Relief floods Matteo’s face. “Always. Whatever our relationship becomes, that support is always available.”
“Even if I make choices you don’t agree with?” Bianca asks.
The question hangs heavy in the air.
Even an idiot could figure out what Bianca is asking.
Matteo glances at me then back at Bianca. “You’re an adult. You get to make your own choices and live with the consequences. I may not always agree with your decisions, but I’ll respect your right to make them,” he finally says.
“Including my relationship with Alessandro?” Bianca asks archly, raising a dark brow.
The direct question forces the elephant in the room into the open.
I find myself holding my breath, waiting to see how Matteo will handle this particular landmine.
“Your relationship with Alessandro is your choice,” he says carefully, though I can hear the struggle in his voice. “But I expect him to treat you with the respect and care that someone I love deserves.”
It’s conditional acceptance at best.
But given everything that’s happened, it’s more than I expected.
“And I expect both of you to understand that your personal relationship can’t compromise family business or put either of you in unnecessary danger,” he continues.
“Understood,” I say, speaking for the first time in several minutes.
The conversation continues for another hour, working through practical details and emotional boundaries.
It’s not a complete reconciliation—too much has been damaged for that—but it’s the foundation for something new.
When we finally prepare to leave, Bianca stands hesitantly by the door.
“The twins,” she says quietly. “Will—will you tell them that I’m sorry? That I love them, and I was just…having a really hard time?”
“Tell them yourself,” Matteo suggests gently. “When you’re ready. They miss their big sister.”
Bianca nods then hesitates at the doorway, her shoulders hunching slightly as if she’s trying to make herself smaller.
“Can I…” Her voice comes out barely above a whisper. “Can I see them? Bella and the twins?”
I watch her brace herself for rejection, the way her hands clench at her sides and her jaw tightens.
She’s expecting him to say no, to tell her she needs to earn that privilege back, to make her wait until she’s proven herself worthy of forgiveness.
Instead, Matteo’s face lights up with relief and something that looks like joy.
“Of course,” he says immediately, already moving toward the door. “They’re in the family room. Bella’s playing with them.”
Bianca’s surprise is visible—her eyebrows rise slightly, and she exhales like she’s been holding her breath.
She follows Matteo down the hallway, and I trail behind them, feeling like an intruder in this family moment but unwilling to leave her without support.
The family room is warm and lived-in, with toys scattered across the Persian rug and children’s books stacked on the coffee table.
Bella sits on the couch with Giovanni in her lap, a picture book open between them, while Arianna plays with dolls on the floor nearby.
When Bella looks up and sees Bianca in the doorway, she goes completely still.
There’s wariness in her expression, boundaries that weren’t there before.
She stands slowly, settling Giovanni on the couch beside her, her movements careful and measured.
“Bianca,” she says quietly, and there’s hurt in her voice despite her attempt to sound neutral.
“Bella.” Bianca’s voice breaks on the name, coming out as more of a whimper than a word. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for how I treated you.” She winces. “Shit, I shouldn’t swear around the kids—oh hell.”
That’s all it takes. Bella’s careful composure crumbles, and she rushes across the room, pulling Bianca into a fierce embrace.
Both women start sobbing—deep, gut-wrenching cries that speak to pain and separation.
“I missed you so much,” Bella chokes out, her arms tight around Bianca. “I was so worried about you. I didn’t understand what happened—”
“I was horrible to you,” Bianca sobs against Bella’s shoulder, clutching the older woman as if she was a lifeline. “Y-you didn’t deserve any of that. You’ve been nothing but good to me, and I was so cruel—”
“Shh,” Bella soothes, stroking Bianca’s hair. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
I glance at Matteo, who’s standing beside me with tears streaming down his face as he watches his wife and daughter reconcile.
The raw emotion on his face makes me so damn uncomfortable.
This level of vulnerability from someone I respect and fear feels too intimate to witness.
“Banca! Banca!”
The twins’ excited shrieks cut through the emotional moment.
They’ve spotted Bianca and are toddling toward her as fast as their little legs can carry them, their faces lit up with pure joy.
“Banca here! Banca here!” Arianna squeals, reaching up with both arms.
Giovanni is right behind his sister, babbling excitedly in the mixture of words and sounds that only Bianca seems to fully understand.
Bianca pulls back from Bella’s embrace, dropping to her knees just as the twins reach her.
She scoops them both up, one in each arm, and they immediately start patting her face and chattering at her in their toddler language.
“I missed you too,” she tells them, her voice thick with tears but much steadier now. “I missed you both so much.”
“Banca stay?” Arianna asks hopefully, her small hand pressed against Bianca’s cheek.
“For a little while,” Bianca promises, kissing the top of her head.
I watch this reunion unfold, struck by how natural it is despite everything that’s happened.
The twins don’t understand family politics or complicated emotions—they just know that their beloved big sister is here, and that’s all that matters to them.
Matteo wipes at his eyes, trying to compose himself. “They’ve been asking for you every day,” he says quietly. “Especially at bedtime. They keep looking for you to come read them stories.”
“I’ll read to them tonight,” Bianca says without hesitation before looking at Bella. “If that’s okay. I don’t want to intrude.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Bella says, settling back onto the couch and patting the spot near her so Bianca can sit. “You’re always welcome here, Bianca. This is your home too.”
Home.
Not just a physical place, but belonging, acceptance, unconditional love.
I can see it hit Bianca hard—the realization that despite everything that’s happened, despite the cruel things she said, this family still wants her.
Still loves her.
As I watch Bianca sit on the floor with the twins crawling all over her, their delighted laughter filling the room, I realize that this moment is more important than the formal reconciliation between her and Matteo.
This is about remembering that she’s not just Giuseppe’s daughter or even Matteo’s daughter—she’s also Arianna and Giovanni’s big sister, Bella’s stepdaughter, part of a family that exists beyond bloodlines and betrayals.
This is the foundation she needs.
Not to become less dangerous, but to remember what she’s protecting when she embraces that darkness.
And watching her face as she holds those children, seeing the pure love and fierce protectiveness in her expression, I know that whatever she becomes, she’ll never forget this moment.
She’ll never forget what home feels like.