Chapter 40
Lucia
Ican’t breathe. Not because I’m dying, but for a split second, I’m convinced the worst is still to come.
As my shaky hands claw at the bulletproof vest Dante forced me to wear, I try to make sense of what happened.
I was shot. Actually shot.
The vest caught the bullet, thank god, but the impact site feels like someone swung a sledgehammer into my ribs. The pain is so sudden and blinding that my brain blanks. I double over as everything I thought I knew turns on its end.
I didn’t anticipate this much pain today.
The hurt isn’t from being shot. It’s from realizing family can still hurt you this deeply, even when you are an adult.
Carmela raised me from age four. She wasn’t perfect, often favoring her biological daughter over me, but she was the only stability I had when my mother’s addiction took her away from me. My mother was an orphan, and my father refused to acknowledge my existence since it would call out his infidelities, so I was destined for foster care until Carmela tossed me a lifeline.
I spent my entire childhood attempting to pay back my apparentdebt. My efforts were pointless. Nothing I ever did was good enough for Carmela. She hated me on sight, and her hate grew when I gave away the virginity she’d auctioned off mere weeks before my nuptials to the highest bidder.
Thank god she’s a terrible shot. If she believed she could land a clean kill with one bullet, she would’ve aimed for my head.
My thoughts return to the present when I sense I am being watched. I can’t see Dante, but I feel his eyes moving over every inch of my body, checking for injuries.
“I’m okay,” I breathe out slowly, my voice on the verge of a sob.
I’m physically okay, but mentally, I’m a wreck.
This morning’s showdown didn’t go as planned. I didn’t even get to see my son before Carmela proved greed will always triumph over love for her.
“The vest caught the bullet.”
I assume I’m imagining Dante’s relieved sigh until the voice from my dreams trickles into my ears. “If you could pick between the sun lighting up your life or the moon, which would you choose?”
Perhaps I did die?
I’ve only been asked that question once before.
It was a long time ago, when I was still naïve enough to believe in superheroes.
“Which would you pick, Lucia?” Dante asks, his voice slicing through the pounding of my pulse in my ears.
When I turn my head toward his voice, I spot the outline of his body in the shadows at the boundary of the lot. As previously discussed, he’s keeping a safe distance in case anyone is still watching.
I was highly skeptical coming into this that Edoardo would show up with Gabriele. I was just desperate enough to give anything a go.
“Lucia?”
Although confused why Dante needs to ask this question now, I’ll never not respond to a query that conquers up memories of the night my son was conceived. “I’d pick the moon because even during someone’s darkest hour, it always shines.”
I sit up, heart aching. Knowing my stepmother has access to my son terrifies me more than any weapon ever could.
Tears blur my vision as I drink in every face under the age of ten bypassing the vacant lot to reach the ferry before it leaves. I pray for Gabriele to appear, but all I’m rewarded is more disappointment.
Dante’s voice barges through the stormy clouds homing in on me. “They never intended to hand him over.”
“I know,” I whisper, ashamed by how easily I was fooled and that I dragged Dante and his family into this.
It’s insane how easily you forget basic common sense when your desperation is at a pinnacle. If someone is morally corrupt enough to barter a payday for their child, they’d never keep their side of the deal.
