Chapter 20 #2
“The night they announced my engagement to Carlo, I went to my father’s study.
For the first time in my life, I stood up to him and said I’d rather die than marry Carlo.
He slapped me, but I didn’t back down. That’s when Pietro DeLucci played his trump card.
He threatened to kill Fabiano. And I believed him.
I believed him because he never loved Fabi. To him, my brother was just a stain.”
She turns her eyes to me. It crushes something in my chest.
“I took that money from you for Fabiano. So he could study what he loved. So he could have a good life.”
She sighs heavily. “Maybe I should have let my father kill him… and then ended my own life. I’ve spent years running from death, but it always catches up. If I’d died back then, I wouldn’t have to watch my baby die now.”
My pulse hammers in my neck. I grab her hand and lean closer. “Lucia, our daughter is alive.”
She shakes her head, trying to hold back tears.
I pull out my phone and play the video of our daughter, holding it in front of her.
She stubbornly turns her head away, refusing to look.
Frustration rises in me, but I don’t push.
I set the phone aside and lean in, pressing my forehead against her temple.
Then I kiss the shell of her ear softly.
“She’s so tiny. Her skin is wrinkled like an old lady’s, red in some places, almost black in others.
But I swear she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.
Her lungs are still a bit underdeveloped, but the doctor says she’ll be fine in a few weeks.
Then we can bring her home. Picture it, Lucia.
You, me, and our daughter. Maybe I’ll even get your brother a place nearby so he can see his niece every day. ”
“Fabiano is dead,” she says, voice flat.
I lean over and gently turn her face to me, my voice firm.
“In a few minutes you’ll see your brother.”
Something shifts in her eyes, something I haven’t seen in days.
“When you see him, promise me—if I’m telling the truth and he’s alive, you’ll trust me completely from now on. You’ll forgive my mistakes and stay loyal to me for the rest of your life. Do you hear me, Lucia? In just a few minutes.”
Her chest rises and falls. Her eyes finally show a flicker of hope. She doesn’t respond, but I see the faintest flicker of emotion beneath the surface.
I press a long kiss to her forehead, my lips resting there for a moment. A knock on the door jerks me out of the moment, pulling me back to reality.
Lucia tries to sit up, but I gently press her shoulder down, my tone leaving no room for argument as I tell her to stay put. I call the nurse and leave Lucia in her care, then step into the hallway.
Rafael is standing there with the man who almost cost me my daughter’ life.
He looks like a male version of Lucia—same eyes, same hair, same features, only rougher and more masculine.
Half his face is swollen and bruised, nose broken.
He’s wearing blue jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a black denim jacket. His eyes burn with fury.
I gesture to an empty room down the hallway and step inside first. Once the door shuts behind us, I turn to Fabiano, my voice controlled but seething.
“Let me make one thing clear. If it were up to me, I’d beat you to death right here. You’ve caused me more trouble than you can imagine, you little shit. Because of you, my daughter almost died.”
His brows knit slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.
I came here to see my sister. Your men grabbed me and beat the crap out of me.
I haven’t seen any daughter of yours. I don’t even know who you’re talking about.
Now, if you let me talk to my sister for an hour, I’ll leave and never come back. ”
“Why did you come?”
“I told you, to see my sister.”
“And why do you want to see her? To finish what Carlo started?”
He shakes his head. “Carlo and I have no dealings. I never swore allegiance to the mafia. I’m not part of their operations. I’m here as Lucia’s brother, not as Carlo’s soldier.”
“Maybe you’re right. But I still don’t understand why you’d risk your life coming to Chicago. Why didn’t your father stop you? Did he even warn you about what I might do to you?”
His expression is tinged with bitterness. “My father would love to be rid of me. But Don Carlo warned me, I’d end up with my throat slit and dumped in a dumpster before the week was out.”
I arch a brow. “I thought you said you had no dealings with Carlo.”
“It was my father’s condition. The only way he wouldn’t kill me himself was if I had Carlo’s blessing to come here and let you finish the job.”
“So, everyone happily sent you off to your doom,” I say, the sarcasm in my voice cutting. “And knowing the risk, you still came.”
He stays silent. I rub my three-day stubble with my thumb and forefinger, my curiosity simmering to the surface. “Why? Why would you take a risk like that?”
“A person like you wouldn’t understand,” he bites out.
I glance at Rafael. He punches Fabiano hard in the face, sending him stumbling. Before he hits the ground, Rafael grabs his arm, jerking him upright as he growls, “Answer the question.”
Fabiano spits blood onto the floor, his glare fixed on me.
“Because she was everything to me. My only family in this world. My sister, my mother, my protector, and then one day, she just left me with nothing but a letter. I had to see her. I needed her to look me in the eye and tell me why she left.”
“Is that the same letter my men took from you?”
He nods once, gaze steady.
“What did it say?”
“I didn’t read it.”
I stare at him, the weight of his recklessness hits me. “You took a hell of a risk, kid.”
A bitter smile curves his lips. “I don’t expect you to understand. But if you’ve ever loved someone enough to give up everything, to stand in front of a bullet for them, then maybe you’d get it.”
My mind flashes to my daughter’s tiny face and Lucia’s pale one. I don’t need him to explain further. I already understand.
I pace for a moment, then sit in the chair by the bed. Crossing my ankle over my knee, I motion for him to stand in front of me. He doesn’t move, defiant as ever. In the end, it’s Rafael who forces him forward with a firm grip.
“Your sister is right next door,” I say, watching his reaction closely. His breathing hitches, but I cut him off before he can respond. “She’s fine. No need to worry.”
His nostrils flare. “Did you hurt her?”
I shake my head. “On the contrary. Your sister’s well-being is my top priority. You’re the one who hurt her.”
His eyes narrow in confusion, and I spell it out for him.
“She overheard me and Rafael talking about you. Pregnancy hormones and stress got the better of her, and her mind jumped to the conclusion that we’d killed you.
She lost it completely. You can still see the scratches she left on both of us.
Long story short, the doctors had to induce labor.
The baby is in an incubator, and Lucia..
. she’s still depressed and sick. She’s refusing to eat or drink, trying to kill herself just to punish me for killing you. ”
“Lucia was pregnant?” he asks, stunned.
“Yes,” I reply, and to crush any dangerous assumptions before they take root, I add instantly, “With my child. She’s the mother of my daughter.”
I stand up and close the space between us.
He needs to be fully prepared before facing Lucia.
“I get it, you have questions. You came all this way looking for answers, and I won’t stand in your way.
If your intentions are exactly what you claim, I’ll even help you get those answers.
But right now, the woman lying on that bed is in no condition to help you with anything. You need to help her.”
I take a deep breath, swallowing my pride along with the lump in my throat. “Please go to her. Hold her. Let her see you’re alive and well. She needs that more than anything right now.”
“You don’t have to beg. Of course, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever she needs. She’s all I have left.”
I still need to make one thing clear, so I issue a final warning. “I swear on my daughter’s life, if you so much as think about hurting her, I’ll make your death so painful they’ll write about it in history books.”
“Fair enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Now, can I see my sister?”
I open the door to Lucia’s room and step aside to let him in. She’s already sitting up, tense and expectant. When she sees me, she leans forward slightly, wincing as the movement tugs at her stitches. Her expression shifts between pain and hope.
When Fabiano steps into view behind me, she gasps audibly. Her eyes well up with tears. She stretches both arms toward him, trembling. Fabiano rushes to her like a bullet, ignoring the nurse’s warnings about the stitches.
Before the nurse can finish her warning, the two collide in a desperate embrace, clutching each other like soldiers reunited after surviving a brutal war.
***
I take Lucia’s hand and help her out of the wheelchair. As she stands in front of the incubator, I start to pull my hand away, but she doesn’t let go. Instead, she tightens her grip, lifts my hand with both of hers, and presses it to her heart.
I glance at her, but her attention is fixed entirely on our tiny daughter inside the incubator. Her eyes are unreadable, and the mask covering her face makes it hard to discern her expression. I gently squeeze her fingers and reassure her about the wires and machines.
“She might not look like it, but she’s doing perfectly fine. The doctor assured me she’ll be out of here in a few weeks.”
Her voice is soft but tinged with sadness. “I just want to hold her, Tony. I feel like I failed. I couldn’t protect her. I put her in danger.”
“Then learn from your mistake and trust me next time.” My tone comes out sharper than I intended.
She turns to me and gently strokes my hand. “I promise, Tony. From now on, I’ll trust you completely, no questions asked. I just need you to forgive my past mistakes…because I’ve already forgiven you.”
She glances at our little fighter in the incubator. “We have a daughter now.”
She looks at me again, hope in her eyes. I pull her into my arms, resting my chin over her head. “Thank you for forgiving me, princess. I forgive you too.”
Her arms tighten around me. Looking at our daughter, I murmur, “We need a name for her.”
I gently pull back to meet her eyes. “Do you already have one in mind?”
She avoids my eyes and nods slightly. Her nervousness makes me want to ease it.
“I wouldn’t object if you wanted to name her after your mother. I know how much she meant to you.”
Her voice is heavy with regret. “Thank you. It’s generous of you, but I don’t want to name her after a woman who lived a life of suffering and never knew real love.”
“I’ve been thinking…Antonia,” she says after a pause.
That catches me off guard. The feminine version of my own name? A warmth surges through me, filling me with a mix of pride, love, and a tenderness I’ve never felt before. Her hesitant question pulls me back.
“Do you like it, Tony?”
I glance at our daughter. “It suits her perfectly. Nothing in this world is more precious to me than her.”
I wrap my arm around Lucia’s shoulders and look at her. “Nothing is more precious than her…and her mother.”