I ran the pad of my finger over the blue ink before sliding my finger beneath the flap and tearing it. The sound stood out, almost as if it blocked out every other sound, every other person or thing. My heart pounded, and my hand trembled as I pulled out the folded sheet of paper.
Dear, dear Lucia,
I know this comes too little too late, and you won’t ever know how sorry I am for the part I forced you to play in this terrible war. I want to say I had no choice. I want to blame anyone else. And for a time, I did. But that wasn’t real.
One thing I’ve learned these last five years is to take responsibility for my actions, for their consequences. For your consequence. And this one, this final one, is the one I cannot reconcile. The single thing that has broken me.
I am so very sorry, Lucia. I am so ashamed of myself. I am a weak man, and I’ve burdened you with a weight too heavy. I can’t live with this anymore. I will fail you again by being absent when the bastard comes to claim you. But you see, I cannot live with this for another moment longer. I cannot live, knowing they destroyed both of my daughters.
I hope you will forgive me. I do love you more than anything in this world.
Papa
A hand on my shoulder startled me, and I glanced up.
“You okay?”
It was Salvatore. I quickly crumpled the letter and threw it into the trash can, then wiped my face with the backs of my hands.
“I want to go.” I said, looking around for something, what I had no idea. “I need… I can’t.”
“Shh.”
He wrapped an arm around me and, without another word, pulled me into his chest and held me there, one hand rubbing my back, the other holding tight.
“Shh,” he said again.
I choked on a sob and pressed my face into him, for one moment letting his strength support me, lift the weight of all of this from me. But when in response to my surrender he hugged me back, I shook my head and wiped my face before breaking away from him. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t take comfort from him. He was the enemy. And I was betraying my family with every tender moment I shared with him.
I couldn’t do this.
“Please…” I started.
With a nod, he ushered me out to the car. “Stay here.”
Salvatore went back into the house and a few moments later returned, loaded the two boxes I’d packed into the trunk, and climbed behind the steering wheel. He glanced at me, the look in his eyes strange, cautious, measuring. Then, without a word, he turned the key and started the engine, taking us back to his house, back to my new home.
9
SALVATORE
Iknew it wasn’t right, but I did what any man would do in my situation. I fished out the letter Lucia had thrown into the trash and read it.
If I hadn’t been sure before, I was now. The fucking bastard of a father was too weak to stay alive. Too weak to take responsibility even in this, his final letter to the daughter he betrayed. Did he even know what his letter would do to her? Did he know it would only add to the guilt she already felt with his loss?
Fucking bastard.
I paced my study, phone to my ear, when, finally, Roman picked up on the fifth ring. “I need you to do something for me, Uncle.” I rarely called Roman that. Only when I needed to trust him absolutely. “Just for me.”
“What is it?” he asked. He was too smart to agree to something without knowing the details.
“I know we have Luke DeMarco under surveillance, but I want more. I want to know where he spends his nights. I want to know exactly how much time he spends with Isabella DeMarco.And,” was I really going to do this? “I want a paternity test run on the little girl, Effie. I want to know if he’s her father.”
“We share the same suspicions.”
“And my father? What does he think?”
“He doesn’t think she’s a threat, so he hasn’t looked into it.”
