Ispent the week at Paul and Ginevra’s house.
After I slapped Ginevra across the face for taking Angelia out of my arms the way she had at Peppin and Lina’s, she kept her distance from me. She loved Angelia, though, and was good to her, and for that, I thanked her before we left.
Paul held Ginevra as we left their house, and she crumbled.
Silent tears streaked down my cheeks. The gaping hole Niello left in my heart continued to open. This was the moment I’d dreamed of, almost as poignant as leaving the hospital as a family, and he was missing.
He would always be missing.
“Ma-ma-ma-maaaa,” Angelia said, touching my lips. I kissed her fingers and then held her closer.
The morning she woke up, her hair standing up from static electricity, and found me in her room, she smiled big and held out her arms, saying the one word that made my life complete. “Ma-ma-ma-maaaa.”
She knew my name. Knew me. Niello had made sure of it.
The week was not easy, though. Even though Angelia seemed to sense who I was, she still went back and forth between Ginevra and me. It was hard on both of us, but I knew Niello had told them from the beginning that the situation wasn’t permanent, and that eased my conscience some.
Putting what Ginevra had done to me aside, I truly hoped they were blessed with children of their own to love someday. I could tell how deep their love for Angelia ran, and I was thankful that someone had been there for her when we couldn’t be.
As I stepped onto the private plane ready to take us to a new life, I made a vow to my daughter. I promised to make up for lost time, and for as long as I lived, to protect her. I wanted so much for her. So much that I didn’t have.
She needed love and security, and to live a life beyond the limitations of the life we were leaving behind.
Love and security were the two things Niello had given to me in our life together—was still giving to the both of us.
Before I’d stepped into the house where my daughter slept, Peppin had opened the console in the car and handed me a folder.
It was filled with a list of all the places where Niello had left pictures and videos, proof of my memories, and documents, some of them to do with the fortune Niello had made over the years, but the ones that made me break down again were the ones that held the truth.
Out of every lie that he had created to protect us, so many forged documents with so many different names, he left three that stole my breath.
Aniello Assanti.
Rosalia Assanti.
Angelia Assanti.
He had planned on us leaving together, had arranged this flight, and not under aliases, but under our real names.
No more hiding who we were to each other.
Tucked inside, mixed in with the documents and places, was a letter.
One word was written in his sharp handwriting:
Live.
Then he signed off with:
Ti amo,
Niello
He loved us, and he wanted us to live.
Even though it would be the hardest thing I’d ever do, live without my heart, I would listen to him. I would live enough for the both of us, and I would teach our daughter all that he taught me about life and love.
About loyalty.
