18. Nico #3
Mamma continues, “We found it a few months ago, and he’s been going to chemo, but it’s very aggressive. Your papà is a strong man, and he’s doing everything he can, but it’s stage four and there is a very real possibility that it will get much worse.”
I blink several times as a storm of emotions rage through me—shock, grief, elation, guilt, and a huge fucking sense of what the hell do I do now?
“Nico, you are going to need Valeria at your side. Leading in the family is more difficult than you could possibly imagine. You need someone strong and steady like her to help get you through it all without losing yourself.”
I step back, letting her hand fall from my arm. “What do you mean, lead?”
“I mean, your papà wants you to take over—he always has.”
The old wounds split open. Rot festers inside.
“I can’t take over—I’m not even made. Have you even talked to him about this? Is this why he’s been ignoring my calls? There are rules—I can’t just skip the fucking line of the hierarchy here.”
She frowns. “Of course, he knows that. He is taking steps to put you on the right placement with an accelerated timeline.”
“Why? Have I not made it abundantly fucking clear that I am a poor fit for the organization? I’ve done everything I can to prove this. Tell him to pick Alessia—she’s his only fucking kid who even wants to be a part of his life.”
Mamma claps a hand over her mouth and shakes her head.
“Nico, I know we all deal with grief in different ways, but you can not speak to me that way. You know, as well as I do, that the world is not ready for a woman to lead a family like ours, no matter how good a fit Alessia would be. Papà is concerned with legacy. And—excuse me for saying so—if you got your head out of your ass, you would see the reason for it. He is offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. Your wife will want for nothing. Your children will want for nothing. You will be one of the most powerful men in the world, and you will be a perfect fit for the role. You’ve been raised for this your entire life. It’s time to grow up, Nico.”
Rage cracks through my bones. After being manipulated and groomed my entire life, Papà pulls his fucking ace card.
One last fuck you to his children before he kicks the bucket—if the cancer is even real and not yet another lie to get me to fall into line.
Is this why he’s been ignoring my calls?
He wants to show me what the world will look like without him in it?
“And do I send my children to prison when they act out?” I spit out. “When they refuse to slaughter a mother and child?”
Mamma’s eyes soften. “That is the price of leadership. Sometimes you don’t make the right decision, but you have to stand by it anyway.”
“He made the right decision. He finally opened my eyes to the type of man he is and the rotted fucking soul that drives this family. You claim you believe in God—what kind of God justifies the decisions that were made?”
“Nico, don’t bring God into this—”
“Tell Father I refuse.” I kick off from the kitchen counter and head toward the door.
“You can’t, Nico. You’re not just looking out for yourself anymore. You have someone else’s safety to keep in mind.”
I stop, my hand on the door handle. “Are you threatening Valeria?”
I look back at Mamma. Her fingertips rest at the bottom of her jaw, sunlight filtering in behind her. She looks like a photo—she always does, always posing for some unseen audience.
“I’m telling you the truth. If you love that girl, you’ll take your rightful place.”
“Have a safe flight, Ma. Thanks for breakfast.”
I don’t remember the drive home. I get back to the apartment, furnished now with the pink couch Valeria picked out and a cushiony kitchen chair.
Her other coat hangs on the rack next to the door.
Her shoes by the door. A collage—baby blue, speckled with clouds cut into the shapes of flowers and lambs—sits on the table.
I stride to the bedroom. I need to shower the fucking filth off of me, and then I desperately need to go to the gym to beat the living shit out of something.
All plans of seeing Valeria vanished the moment my blood pressure spiked and refused to drop down. I can’t see her now—I need to calm down.
This is exactly what she told you would happen.
I’m putting her at risk.
But I can’t let her go. I’m the only one who can protect her.
I need to calm down. I can’t think straight. I’m being irrational.
Even an ice cold shower does nothing to soothe me. I dry myself with quick, brusque movements and storm to the closet.
I grab the first gym shirt I see and rip it off the hanger.
Snap.
“Fuck!”
I broke the hanger. I’m going to break everything. I throw myself at the floor of the closet and search for the fractured piece.
As I do, I come into contact with one of Valeria’s duffel bags—the pink, oddly shaped one.
She has unpacked all of her other bags, but this one, she left tucked into the furthest corner of the closet, and covered with the other empty bags.
Dread plunges into my bones as I take the bag and slide it toward me with trembling hands—from rage or fear, I don’t know.
I unzip the bag.
And that’s how I find my fiancée’s secret pile of cash.