Luca
I’m a father. This is surreal.
I lower myself to the carpet where Rocco has already dumped out a bin of Legos.
My children.
Three perfect little humans with my blood running through their veins.
"Daddy, look!" Rocco holds up a half-built spaceship. The word 'Daddy' nearly knocks me over, bringing home that yes, I am a father.
"That's impressive," I manage through emotion. "You build that yourself?"
"Yep! I'm the best builder," he declares with confidence.
Elio, quieter than his brother, slides a pile of blue bricks toward me. "Can you make a castle? A big one?"
I nod, though it’s been awhile since I’ve played with Legos. "I used to build castles when I was little."
“Did you live in a castle in Italy?” Adalina asks.
“Not a castle, but it was nice. Maybe I can take you to see it sometime.”
“And then we’ll say ‘Ciao’,” Rocco announces.
I laugh. “Yes.”
As perfect as this moment is, I can’t stop the anger about all I’ve lost. All that Elena stole from me.
But I push it down, focusing on the children in front of me. Elena hovers in the doorway, watching us with wary eyes. I ignore her.
"You're doing it wrong," Rocco critiques my castle technique.
“How should I be doing it?”
We build together, and I drink in every detail about them. Elio's serious concentration.
Rocco's boundless energy.
Adalina's thoughtful questions.
I learn their favorite colors, foods, stories. Each revelation is precious.
Adalina yawns after about thirty minutes, abandoning her small creation to climb into my lap without hesitation.
The complete trust of a child who doesn't yet understand the complications of the world awes me.
How easily children love.
How quickly they accept what adults tell them. One moment I was a stranger, the next their father.
Their world reshapes without resistance.
She nestles against my chest, her small body warm and perfect.
"Tired, Piccola?" I whisper, stroking her hair.
She nods against me, eyes already fluttering closed. "Will you be here tomorrow too?"
"Yes," I promise, my heart swelling. "And the day after that. And after that."
I hold my daughter as she falls asleep.
The boys continue building, arguing good-naturedly over pieces.
For this moment, the rage subsides.
There will be time for retribution later.
Right now, I'm exactly where I need to be.
I glance toward the doorway. Empty.
Elena slipped away at some point.
The boys are getting drowsy too, their Lego battle slowing as yawns interrupt their chatter.
Is she giving me space with them?
Or is she hiding, afraid of what I might say or do?
The thought sours my stomach.
For all her lies, Elena never knew violence from my hands, never would. But perhaps the man she invented in her mind, the traitor who betrayed her father, is capable of anything.
I stroke my daughter's hair, marveling at its softness. Whatever comes next between Elena and me, these children deserve better than to be caught in our war. For them, I will find a way forward.
"Time for bed, little ones," I announce, seeing Elio's eyelids drooping. "It's getting late."
"Will you tuck us in?" Rocco asks, abandoning his Lego creation without protest, a sure sign of his fatigue.
"Of course." I rise carefully, still cradling Adalina against my chest.
Her small arms wrap around my neck instinctively, even in sleep. Something primal and fierce ignites in me, a visceral need to protect what's mine.
These children. My children.
I carry her to her room and settle her into bed first, pulling the sunny yellow comforter up to her chin.
She stirs slightly but doesn't wake. I return to the boys’ room, helping Elio climb into his race car bed, smiling as he immediately curls around a stuffed dinosaur.
"Goodnight." I brush his hair from his forehead.
Rocco is last, bouncing on his mattress despite his obvious exhaustion.
"Hey," I say, catching him mid-bounce. "How would you three like to come stay at my house sometime?"
His eyes widen. "Your house? Do you have toys?"
"Not yet," I admit. "But we can bring some of yours."
"Can we really?" His excitement is infectious.
"We could make pizza together. Real Italian style."
"Yes!" Rocco pumps his fist before flopping back onto his pillow.
As I pull his blanket up, a sense of rightness settles over me.
This is how it should have been all along.
Bedtime stories, goodnight kisses, planning tomorrow's adventures.
"Sleep well.” I switch off the lamp.
“Night-night, Daddy.”
I make a silent vow. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I will be the father they deserve.
I close the door to the kids' room with a gentle click, pausing for a moment to collect myself to face Elena.
I find her in the kitchen, methodically loading the dishwasher.
She doesn't look up when I enter.
"They're asleep," I say. "All three are out like lights."
She nods, still not meeting my eyes. "They had a busy day at school."
"I want them overnight." No preamble, no asking permission. These are my children too, a fact she's hidden long enough.
Her hands freeze mid-motion. "They're in school until Friday afternoon."
"Then I’ll take them Friday. In the meantime, I’ll come here in the evenings." I lean against the counter, crossing my arms.
"Luca…" She finally looks up, her eyes conflicted. "The winter festival is Saturday.”
“I know.” How can I forget? It’s been an annual La Corona holiday event since I was a kid. “I'll take them."
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, everything between us from the love, the betrayal, the years of separation crackles in the air.
I almost reach for her, almost tell her how we could have been happy all this time if she'd trusted me, if she'd given me the chance to prove myself.
Instead, I swallow the words. Those dreams died the moment I learned she'd kept my children from me.
"They need winter clothes, their special blankets to sleep—"
"Make me a list." My tone brooks no argument. "I'll get whatever they need."
She looks away first, nodding slowly. "I'll have it ready tomorrow."
I push off from the counter, heading toward the door.
Part of me wants to stay, to continue building whatever fragile connection we'd started before the truth exploded between us. But the wound is too fresh, the betrayal too deep.
I drive home with the windows down despite the December chill, needing the cold air to clear my head.
The streets blur past as my mind races with everything I need to do before Friday.
Clothes. Toys.
Converting guest rooms into children’s rooms.
Three children require more than just space.
They need a home.
I’m a father.
The thought both terrifies and exhilarates me.
For years, I've lived like a man passing through. Even after returning from Italy, I never fully settled.
Now I have reason to build something permanent.
I arrive home noting the lights are on in the main sitting room. Strange for this hour.
Inside, I find my father sitting by the fireplace, staring into the flames. He looks up when I enter, his eyes momentarily clear.
"Luca," he says, smiling. "You're home late."
I loosen my tie, dropping into the chair opposite him. I need to tell him about Elena. About the kids. “I’m glad you’re up. I’ve got news.”
My father tilts his head, confusion flickering across his features. “Where’s your mother? She’ll want to hear it too.”
My heart sinks. He's somewhere in the past now. I decide to wait to tell him about the kids another time.
I retreat to my father's office—my office now—and close the door behind me.
The room still holds his presence, but that’s okay. It helps me feel supported to sense his power.
I sink into the chair and let out a breath. I’m a father. The reality keeps hitting me in waves.
I pull out my phone and dial Gabriella. Despite the hour, she answers on the second ring.
"Everything okay?" Her voice is alert, no trace of sleep.
“I’m a father. The triplets are mine."
A sharp intake of breath. "She confirmed it?"
"Yes." I press my fingers against my temple, the headache that's been threatening all evening finally takes hold. "We told the kids. They… they called me 'Daddy'."
"Oh, Luca." Her voice softens with compassion. “You’re happy, right?”
“Extremely, and yet I’m so fucking pissed at Elena. And terrified that Dad knew.”
“Dad? How?”
I tell her about my visit with Carl and how he’d known about the kids and wished Elena had come to Italy with me. “Would he have told Dad?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t see Dad not acting on it if he did know. They’re Monti children.” She echoes the other side of the argument I’ve been struggling with since the moment Carl revealed the truth.
“He wouldn’t have thought like Elena? That it was safer to hide who the father was?”
“Is that what she said?”
“She said Aldo’s men wanted revenge for Umberto. That she overheard Aldo telling Dom to find a way to hurt me. She worried if he knew, she and the kids would be targets.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Would Aldo have targeted her?”
“He set Umberto up. Had him killed. Likely wanted the same outcome for me too, but in the end, it worked out because I was scapegoated.”
“A man who could kill his brother would surely have no qualms about killing his niece.”
I scrape my hand over my face knowing she’s right.
“I’m not saying what she did is okay, Luca. I hate that you’ve missed so much of their lives, but you have to consider that she was alone, facing a monster.”
“And what about after Aldo died?” Am I really the asshole here? “She always acted like she couldn’t stand to be around me. Now I know why.”
“I do find that difficult to understand.” Gabriella’s statement makes me feel justified in my anger. “How are the kids taking it?"
"Better than expected. Kids are resilient." I open the desk drawer, finding a bottle of pain reliever my father kept there. "I'm bringing them here Friday night."
“Wow.”
"I've lost enough time." I swallow the pills dry. "I need your help with the legal side. Custody arrangements, recognition of paternity, whatever it takes to establish my rights."
Her tone shifts to professional mode. “I know good family law lawyers. Will Elena fight you?”
“I don’t think so.” I laugh bitterly. “I think she’s afraid of me.”
“Did you threaten her?”
“I threatened to do what I had to do to be a father, but I didn’t threaten to hurt her,” I say defensively.
“Of course. You wouldn’t do that. It breaks my heart, Luca, how much she hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
“Yes, well, I don’t know that I’ve ever been so pissed, but I want to do this right for the kids. They deserve stability."
“Does Dad know?”
“Not yet. I was going to tell him but he was… He said to wait for Mom.”
“Ah. I’d hoped with you taking over that maybe the reduced stress would slow down his dementia.”
Speaking of him stepping down, I’m the Don. I have other responsibilities. “I’ll tell him when he’s in our time era.”
“This might be exactly what he needs." Her voice warms. "Family, Luca. Our family just got bigger."
Family.
"Thank you," I say simply.
"Get some sleep, Brother. You have a lot of parenting to catch up on."
A knock at the door interrupts our conversation. "I need to go," I tell Gabriella.
"Call me tomorrow. We'll start the legal work immediately."
I hang up as Nic enters. His face is grim, eyes alert despite the late hour.
"Don Monti, forgive the intrusion." It’s still weird to be called Don Monti, but I try to wear it like I’m used to it.
“What’s up?”
"We've received word from our contacts at the port. The shipment from Italy has been delayed."
I straighten in my chair, setting aside thoughts of Elena and the children. "Delayed or intercepted?"
"Unclear. The captain claims mechanical issues, but after the issues with the Calabresi shipment last month…"
He doesn't need to finish.
We need to consider that someone is fucking with us.
Could be law enforcement.
Could be pirates.
The timing, just days after my official recognition as Don, can't be accidental.
"Increase security at all warehouses. Move everything from location three to the backup site. And get me everything we have on the port authority officials. We should see if someone's been compromised."
"Yes, Don Monti."
After he leaves, I sit at my father’s desk as I grapple with the weight of being a Don, essentially the father of a family organization and a father of three children.
I can't fail at either.
Don and father. Protector and provider.
No matter what it costs me, I will succeed at both.