FIFTEEN #2
I sat in the armchair across from his bed, watching as he struggled with his lunch. His gnarled fingers trembled slightly, lifting the spoon to his mouth with a precision that looked practised but painfully slow – like a child who had just learnt to eat.
The skeletal frame before me was foreign.
His sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, the gaunt stretch of his skin over brittle bones – none of it was right.
This wasn’t the man I remembered. The Ezio I’d known had been towering and broad, a man who’d dominated every room he entered.
His fists had been like iron and I’d felt their weight too many times to forget.
He’d been a titan, a tyrant, and yet here he was now, shrunken and feeble.
It should have felt like justice, but it didn’t. It felt… off.
‘It’s not like you to be quiet, boy,’ Ezio rasped, his voice thin but steady. He didn’t look up, his focus fixed on the plate of meat and vegetables on the wheeled table.
I eased back, the chair protesting beneath my weight, and I crossed my arms. ‘What’s there to say?’
Ezio chuckled, a dry, rattling sound that grated at my nerves. ‘Plenty, I’d think. I hear it’s been a while.’
His words were casual, but there was something in his tone that raised alarm bells.
I studied him carefully, looking for signs of the man I’d known – the man who had been able to cut me down with a single glare.
But all I saw was a frail old man, his hand shaky as he set the cutlery back onto the plate.
‘Cut the bullshit, Ezio,’ I snarled. ‘You’re not fooling anyone.’
He frowned, wiping his hands against a tissue. ‘The doctors say my memory’s patchy – like a broken mirror.’ He cast a glance through the window, eyes distant. ‘Some pieces are clear, others… not so much.’ One hand gestured vaguely through the air.
I watched him closely – the way his jaw tightened after the pause. The particular ambiguity. It was too neat.
Maybe it was all true. Or maybe he’d been rehearsing this bedside act before I’d come here.
‘Is that so?’ I asked, my tone jagged.
He nodded with a flat expression. ‘It’s strange.
I remember bits and pieces, but they don’t always make sense.
I know I was a hard man – too hard, maybe – but the details are gone.
All I remember is feeling…’ He paused, pushing the wheeled table away.
‘Sorrow. I feel guilt. Towards you, for the most part.’
The words should have meant something. Should have mattered. But they didn’t. They felt hollow, like an echo in an empty room.
Once, I would have bartered my soul just to hear those words. Now, only the ghost of that soul kept me rooted while watching him spin yet another silken web of pretence. Thread by thread.
The doctor said he was frail. Emotional. That anything could trigger a heart attack.
As his victim, I saw through all of it. As his son, I felt… nothing. Not grief, nor pity.
He’d forged the worst parts of me like steel on an anvil, raised me inside a furnace and then wondered why I’d come out molten.
I wasn’t grateful for it. Not even close.
‘I don’t need apologies,’ I said, keeping my voice steady. ‘We’re way past them.’
Slowly, he inclined his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. ‘No, I suppose you don’t.’
For a moment, there was only silence between us, the faint whirr of the hospice’s air conditioning filling the space. Then he spoke again, his voice softer.
‘You know, Cain, you’re the only family I have left. The only one who has stayed with me, after your mother died.’
I stiffened. My mother hadn’t died. At least there had been no evidence of that. Unless he knew something I didn’t.
My focus tapered as I rummaged through the memories.
Did he think I was the son of his first wife? Fuck, his memory was worse off than I realised. As far as I knew that woman had given birth to someone else’s kid and died shortly after.
Ezio had always known how to twist the knife, how to make himself seem smaller than he was to manipulate those around him. I had seen him do it to my mother, to his friends, family. To me.
‘I’m not here for you,’ I said evenly. ‘I’m here because I need to know you’re contained.’
He smiled faintly, but there was something in his gaze, something too calculating for a man with a ‘broken mirror’ memory. ‘Of course. You’re always so careful, Cain. Always thinking ahead.’
Leaning back in his bed, he folded his hands in his lap. ‘But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?’
The words hung like a blade poised over my neck.
I heard my molars grinding. He was testing me, laying traps I couldn’t yet see.
I stood, the chair creaking weakly as I pushed it back. ‘Enjoy your lunch, Ezio.’
As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me cold.
‘You’ll come back, Cain,’ he said, his tone light, but laced with a darkness that took me back several decades – plunged me into it until breath wouldn’t grace me.
‘You’ll come see your dad, won’t you?’ The words softened the ominous streak they carried before, as though the true meaning sat hidden beneath them.
I didn’t respond. Didn’t even bother to look back, but as I walked out of the room, the bulk of it settled in my chest – a gnawing certainty that whatever this was… it was just starting.
Ezio might have appeared frail and broken now, but he was still Ezio. Still dangerous. Still the man who could turn my world upside down if I’d let him.
And the worst part? A part of me already knew I would go back. If only to keep him… contained.
Sinking into the seat of my car, I slumped, letting my forehead knock gently against the wheel – once, twice, again. Just enough to feel the sting, like a muted punishment for not leaving him behind.
Why was it so damn hard to start over? Why couldn’t I leave the past where it belonged?
No matter how much I tried to outrun it, its tendrils stayed latched onto me, dragging me back into the darkness.
Siphoning my energy, my sanity. A shadow forever lurking, whispering that no matter how far I went, I would never truly escape.
With a sigh, I sprawled back into the seat and pulled out my phone, needing a distraction. Two new voicemails blinked on the screen. I hit play and let the automated voice guide me through the first one.
‘It’s Paula. Car wouldn’t start. I’ll be a little late.’
Paula wasn’t like most people. There was a fire in her, and I recognised the same thing that lived in my soul – a sharpness that refused to dull no matter how much life threw at her.
In some twisted way, I think I knew why she’d imprinted herself into my thoughts: even though she’d never said it, I knew Paula came from an abusive relationship.
The scars weren’t just physical – they were etched into her words, her movements, her need to control her surroundings.
And it reminded me too much of myself. Of my Mum.
For years, I’d tried to protect my mother from Ezio’s hand – throwing myself between them when his temper boiled over. It was all I had known. Defending her, shielding her, fighting back until the night I’d almost killed him.
And now, there was Paula. Small and fierce and battered by a world that didn’t give a damn.
I sat there, phone in hand, grip tightening around the silence. Logic told me to back off: keep the lines clean. Professional.
But my gut wasn’t on board.
Because I wasn’t a man. I was a monster. So this wasn’t protection. It was possession. Obsession. Something darker.
And something warped and jagged whispered that if I kept her close, I could finally rewrite the ending I never gave my mum.
It wasn’t my job.
It wasn’t my place.
But damn it, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to.
With a sigh, I started the car, Paula’s voice still echoing in my mind as I pulled out of the lot. I needed to scratch an itch – to know more about her.
She wasn’t just a new hire who stumbled into my orbit; she was a puzzle piece I couldn’t yet place. If I wanted to understand why I’d felt pulled into her chaos, I’d need more than just surface-level facts.
Reaching for my phone again, I scrolled to Vinnie’s number. He always had a knack for picking up things others couldn’t, and if anyone could give me insight without prying too much, it was him. I tapped his name, but before it could connect, the screen lit up with an incoming call.
I groaned when I saw the name. A familiar, feminine voice grated in my head before I even answered.
‘Cain,’ Bianca’s voice exploded with impatience the moment the line connected.
Her Italian lilt added to the fierceness.
‘You need to tell Vinnie to call me. He’s not answering his phone again, and I need the numbers finalised for last week’s expenses.
Unless you want your precious sales report to look like a toddler balanced the books? ’
I sighed. ‘Buongiorno to you too, Bianca. Nice to hear your voice. How’s life?’
‘Don’t start with me,’ she snapped. ‘Vinnie’s avoiding me – again. Tell him to grow the fuck up, Cain. I need the damn receipts.’
‘I’ll pass the message along,’ I said dryly. ‘Though I think the last time I told Vinnie anything about accounts, he suggested throwing his phone into the Adriatic.’
She huffed loudly. ‘He would. He spends his time running his mouth about me but can’t even pick up a phone for ten seconds.’
‘You know you’re asking a lot,’ I said with a faint smirk. ‘Unless it’s marketing, coordination isn’t Vinnie’s strong suit, Bianca. You’ve seen him try to parallel park.’
That earned an involuntary laugh. ‘God, don’t remind me.’
‘Well, you were the one who married him,’ I pointed out, unable to resist.
She groaned. ‘And paid for his failed therapy, and divorced him. Key word: divorced.’
I forced a chuckle. Darkness sat too close between my temples for it to come out naturally. ‘You’re lucky he doesn’t have a direct line to this conversation. You’d be hearing about this for weeks.’