Where he first taught me how to play chess, where I first glimpsed the man beneath the monster everyone feared.
The library welcomes us with its familiar scent of leather-bound books and polished wood. Without being asked, Raffaele steers me to the couch by the fireplace. He settles into it first, then pulls me onto his lap, arranging me so my headrests against his shoulder while his hand continues its soothing motion over my bump.
“How do you want to do this?” he asks, holding up the letter. “We can read it, or burn it. Or hide it away.”
Taking a deep breath, I mentally ready myself. “Together,” I whisper, placing my hand over his. “I need to hear it, but I can’t… I can’t do it alone.”
He nods, unfolding the pages with careful movements. I close my eyes briefly, gathering my courage, then open them to focus on Mom’s familiar handwriting—the slightly slanted letters, the way her Y and G always dipped a little too far below the line.
My dearest Alina,
If you’re reading this, then I’ve been gone a year, and it’s time for me to finally be honest with you. I know it’s cowardly of me to be honest in death when I couldn’t in life.
I don’t have excuses. Only regret that I failed you as a mother, and the shame of that will follow me wherever I am.
By now, you know about the loan from the Russo family. I offered the bakery as collateral, but it wasn’t enough. So, I suggested you. God forgive me… I did. I truly believed I would fix everything before it ever came to that. I thought I had time. I was wrong.
Pride and fear guided more of my choices than I ever admitted. And in the end, I turned my mistakes into your burden. I’m so sorry, honey. If you ever believe anything I say, please… let it be that.
There’s something else you deserve to know. About your father. Johnny wasn’t your biological father, Alina.
I met a man the summer before you were born. A Dutch tourist named Willem van der Meer. The affair was brief but passionate, and when I discovered I was pregnant, I never told him.
Johnny and I were having problems, but when I told him about the pregnancy, he was so happy he stayed, believing you were his.
And I let him.
Sabrina found out after Johnny’s suicide. She overheard me, and she threatened to tell everyone. I panicked. I thought if I gave her what she wanted, if I kept her happy, she would leave you alone.
As I’m writing this, I don’t know why I thought that. It sounds foolish now. We can be blind to the harm we cause, even when we believe we’re doing our best.
You should know that Willem died of a heart attack in Amsterdam. He never knew about you, and for that, I’m also sorry.
I don’t expect your forgiveness. What I did… I don’t know if it can be forgiven.
But I need you to know that I loved you. In my own flawed, selfish way, I thought I was protecting you. I see now that I was only protecting myself.
If you have children one day, I know you’ll be a better mother than I ever was.
Forgive me if you can. Remember me if you can bear to.
But most of all, live your life fully, Alina. Not shaped by my mistakes, or anyone else’s.
With all my love,
Mom
A sob escapes me, my entire body trembling with the weight of Mom’s last words. But even as it feels like my heart’s breaking all over, I know one thing for certain. Johnny was my dad in all the ways that count.
He was there for me. He raised me. He loved me, made me laugh, and… he was my dad. It’s that simple.
Being with Raffaele and finding my role in the Russo family has taught me something very important. Family can be found. Raven and Piper are more my sisters than Sabrina ever was.
We don’t need to share DNA for that to be the truth.
The letter falls from my shaking hands, fluttering to the floor like a wounded bird. My chest heaves with sobs I can no longer contain, grief and rage and confusion colliding inside me until I’m gasping for breath.
Raffaele’s arms tighten around me, one hand sliding into my hair to cradle my head against his chest. “Breathe, Piccola,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing away a tear trailing down my cheek. “Just breathe with me.”
