Chapter 35
Lucia
For a few precious hours, I live inside a seemingly impenetrable bubble of safety and protection. Camille is coloring, unfazed that she almost caught her father and me in a compromising position, her fever long broken, and up until his family meeting twenty minutes ago, Dante’s hands haven’t left either of us for more than a breath.
I’m still zonked, but I wouldn’t trade a second of it. The well is finally restocked, and at long last, I can breathe without worrying that I’m stealing the oxygen from someone more deserving.
But bubbles are fragile, and mine bursts when Camille connects my phone to the compound’s Wi-Fi. I’ve been trying to message Edoardo for the past hour, but I didn’t have any signal to get a message out.
The second the device connects, my screen explodes with notifications. A dozen missed calls, hundreds of messages, and numerous FaceTime requests. Edoardo’s name floods the screen, and it drops my stomach to my shoes.
“I’ll be back soon, okay, sweetie?”
Camille peers up at me. I tried to keep my voice impassive. Obviously, I failed. She seems worried.
“It’s just Luna,” I lie. “I forgot to tell her we weren’t coming in today.”
She smiles with fondness, freeing me to step into the hallway. My heart pounds when I swipe open the messages. All their proses are the same.
Edoardo:
Where are you?
Answer me!
You think you can ignore me?
Pick up. Now!
You will never see your son again!
He’s dead! Do you understand me? Dead!
My throat closes up as the protective bubble cocooning me shatters. I race down the stairs and through the back doors, needing both privacy and openness since the walls are closing in on me.
The midmorning air is cool as the lemon trees whisper my failures. None of the serenity an orchard like this should give me calms me.
While pacing between rows of lemon trees, I call Edoardo again and again, my shoes sinking into the soft earth.
He finally answers on the twelfth call.
It’s bad.
His face fills the screen, twisted with anger, and his grip on Gabriele’s arm is cruel. My son is frightened and confused. His eyes bore through the camera, silently begging me to reach through it and pull him out.
“Edoardo,” I choke out, my voice breaking. “Please?—”
“What was our agreement?”
I can’t think of him or me right now. My son is scared.
“Please let him go. You’re hurting him.”
“What was our fucking agreement, Cici? What was the one term you had to abide by if you wanted to keep your prick of a son alive?”
Tears spring down my cheeks as I answer, “That I couldn’t tell anyone. That his birth remained between us.” My words are for Edoardo, but the sympathy beaming out of me is solely for Gabriele.I’m so sorry, baby boy. Mama is so sorry.“I did as you asked. I haven’t told anyone.”
His scoff announces he doesn’t believe me. “Theyfucking know.” He lifts his eyes past my shoulder at the beginning of his reply, highlighting the Caruso mansion gleaming behind me.
