"I love you," I whispered. "I love you so much."
"I love you too. Both of you." His hand found my belly again, protective and possessive. "My family. My entire world."
Lucia kicked against his palm, as if agreeing.
We both laughed, exhausted and satisfied and happy despite everything.
My sister was gone. My father was trying. My daughter was growing.
Life and death. Ending and beginning. Grief and joy.
All happening at once.
And somehow, impossibly, I was okay.
We were okay.
Twenty weeks down. Twenty to go.
And we'd face them together.
CHAPTER 26
Cesare
Twenty-eight weeks.
Seven months pregnant. Third trimester. The home stretch.
Paola's belly had grown impossibly large—round and firm, pressing against every shirt she owned. Lucia was active now, kicking visibly through the skin, rolling and shifting at all hours.
Real. So real it took my breath away every time I felt her move.
The letter arrived on a Tuesday morning whilst Paola napped and I worked through quarterly reports Piero had sent over.
Federal inmate mail from the Metropolitan Correctional Center. Matteo's name in the return address.
I stared at it for a long moment before opening it.
Cesare,
It's been four months since your visit. I wanted to update you on my progress—not to ask for anything, but because you said to prove I mean it. So here's the proof:
I completed the addiction recovery program (even though my addiction was to shortcuts, not substances). Dr. Butler and I have been working on understanding why I make the choices I make. Turns out, fear of not being enough makes you do stupid things.
I'm teaching a financial literacy class to other inmates now. Helping guys who never learned to manage money. It's the first time I've used my skills for something that actually helps people instead of just enriching myself.
I heard through my lawyer that Viktor accepted a plea deal. Life without parole. I'm glad. What he did—what I helped him do—he deserves worse. But at least he can't hurt anyone else now.
You told me when you visited that the baby's due soon. I hope everything went well with the pregnancy. I hope Paola is healthy. I hope you're ready to be a father (though no one ever really is).
I'm up for parole review in eighteen months. My lawyer thinks I have a decent shot at early release if I keep doing the work. If that happens, I'd like to take you up on your offer to talk. To maybe, someday, meet your child.
But only if you still think I've earned it.
Thank you for visiting. For not writing me off completely. It gave me something to work toward.
Matteo
