“Maurizio.” Nicco spoke up. “Yes, my father helped Myra leave Gianni. Not to speak ill of the dead, but you know your father was a little off. There was some extreme violence, and ah, my father felt it was best to hide Myra and her kids away.”
“He almost killed my mom,” Michael added.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not entirely sure what I was apologizing for. For my father’s behavior? For my ignorance on this matter? Or for the awkwardness of this moment?
“We didn’t come for apologies,” Myra said firmly. “I came to see if he was really dead.” Her bluntness was startling. “I wanted to make sure me, and my kids were safe from him. Now I can truly end this chapter of our lives and live without fear.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over our small group. I struggled to find appropriate words for this impossible situation. What do you say to the family you never knew you had? The family your father ruined, and your uncle secretly helped to hide?
Before I could speak, Nicco’s attention shifted to the entrance of the private room. I followed his gaze and saw a young woman with vivid red hair entering. There was a small bundle cradled in her arms. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, her face pretty but strained, her posture defensive even as she moved. I recognized her from the Palladium.
Nicco excused himself from our group and crossed to intercept her. They spoke briefly, his hand resting lightly onher elbow in a gesture that seemed protective rather than controlling. He nodded toward me, and she turned, her green eyes finding mine across the room.
“Who is that?” I asked. My question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular.
“Hannah,” Myra supplied an answer. “Another of your father’s victims.”
Before I could ask what she meant, Nicco guided the young woman toward us. As they drew closer, I realized the bundle in her arms was a child, perhaps only a few months old. Something cold settled in my stomach as pieces began falling into place.
“Maurizio,” Nicco said, his voice carefully modulated, “Hannah wanted to speak with you.”
Hannah stepped forward, shifting the baby in her arms. Her gaze was direct, unflinching. “I wanted to see for myself that he was really gone,” she said without preamble.
I nodded, unsure how to respond. The baby in her arms made a small sound, and she automatically rocked him, a practiced motion that spoke of long nights and constant care.
“This is Gabriel,” she said, tilting the infant slightly so I could see his face. “He’s six months old.”
I stared at the baby, seeing unmistakable echoes of my father’s features— the same features I saw in my own mirror each morning. The shape of the brow. The set of the small mouth. My half-brother. Another secret revealed only after death.
“And this is my father’s son.”
“Yes, Nicco told me to come and introduce you to my baby.”
Nicco touched my shoulder. “Yeah, this is Gianni’s son, your other half-brother.”
“With Gianni gone, I can move back to Vegas,” Hannah continued, her chin lifting slightly.
I glanced at Nicco, who met my gaze steadily. Of course he would know about this. Nicco made it his business to know everything that might affect the family’s interests or reputation.
“If you want to know your half-brother, that’s up to you,” Hannah said, her voice softer now. “I won’t keep him from his family. I’ve already been introduced to Gianna and Michael. Mr. Bregoli wanted me to give you a chance to meet Gabriel.”
I nodded, still struggling to find words. “I understand. Thanks for coming.”
Hannah shifted the baby to one arm and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper. “My number,” she said, pressing it into my hand. “If you want to talk. If you want to be part of his life.”
Our fingers touched briefly, and I felt the weight of her scrutiny. She was evaluating me, trying to determine if I was like my father. If I were a safe person to be around.
“Thank you,” I managed. “I, I’m sorry for, I don’t know.”
“You’re not responsible for his actions,” she said firmly. Then, after a pause: “But it’s nice to meet you in person.”
She stepped back, nodded once to Nicco, then turned and walked away, her steps quick and purposeful. The baby peered over her shoulder as they left, dark eyes that seemed too knowing for an infant.
I stood there surrounded by my newfound family, who were essentially strangers. Myra, Gianna, and Michael watched me with expressions that mixed sympathy and caution. Nicco’s face had returned to its usual mask of careful detachment.
“So, you knew?” I asked him quietly. “About all of them?”
“I know everything about this family,” Nicco replied simply. He bent close to my ear to whisper. “I know everything.”
