Anotherthing he took from her.
Another thing he buried just because he could.
I look at her lying there in the dandelions, sunlight on her face, grief still living sharp under her skin all these years later, and I have to force the rage back down where it belongs.
Fuck.
I have to tell her.
My hand settles low on her waist. She closes her eyes.
“Do you want to know?”
They open slowly.
She turns her head toward me, brows pinched. “What?”
For a second I just look at her.
The wind drags through the grass again, carrying the scent of earth and green things and the faint sweetness of crushed dandelions. All of it too gentle for what I’m about to put in her hands.
“I asked Santo Amato to look into everything about Gabriel. I want to know all his weaknesses. His entire story.”
Her whole body stills.
“What?”
“He has access to surveillance and records most of us don’t.” My hand tightens once at her side before I make it loosen. “I got everything including things about your parents.”
She props herself up on one elbow so fast the dandelion dips against her wrist.
“What did he find?”
The question comes sharper than the last one, startled and bare.
I hold her gaze.
I push up farther until I’m sitting beside her in the grass, one knee bent. She follows me with her eyes.
This part I say flat. Clean. No dressing it up.
“Your father was married.”
Her expression empties out. Just for a second.
Then confusion rushes in to fill it.
“No. You’re saying he was married whilewithmy mother?”
“Santo confirmed it.”
“No,” she says again, but weaker this time. “Mama said—”
“Your mother was hidden,” I say. “Youwere hidden. Your father’s public marriage stayed intact.”
Her face changes by degrees. Piece by piece. I watch it happen and hate every second of it.
She sits up fully now, staring at me like if she looks hard enough I’ll take it back.
