“Why did you come?”
“I told you, to see my sister.”
“And why do you want to see her? To finish what Carlo started?”
He shakes his head. “Carlo and I have no dealings. I never swore allegiance to the mafia. I’m not part of their operations. I’m here as Lucia’s brother, not as Carlo’s soldier.”
“Maybe you’re right. But I still don’t understand why you’d risk your life coming to Chicago. Why didn’t your father stop you? Did he even warn you about what I might do to you?”
His expression is tinged with bitterness. “My father would love to be rid of me. But Don Carlo warned me, I’d end up with my throat slit and dumped in a dumpster before the week was out.”
I arch a brow. “I thought you said you had no dealings with Carlo.”
“It was my father’s condition. The only way he wouldn’t kill me himself was if I had Carlo’s blessing to come here and let you finish the job.”
“So, everyone happily sent you off to your doom,” I say, the sarcasm in my voice cutting. “And knowing the risk, you still came.”
He stays silent. I rub my three-day stubble with my thumb and forefinger, my curiosity simmering to the surface. “Why? Why would you take a risk like that?”
“A person like you wouldn’t understand,” he bites out.
I glance at Rafael. He punches Fabiano hard in the face, sending him stumbling. Before he hits the ground, Rafael grabs his arm, jerking him upright as he growls, “Answer the question.”
Fabiano spits blood onto the floor, his glare fixed on me. “Because she was everything to me. My only family in this world. My sister, my mother, my protector, and then one day, she just left me with nothing but a letter. I had to see her. I needed her to look me in the eye and tell me why she left.”
“Is that the same letter my men took from you?”
He nods once, gaze steady.
“What did it say?”
“I didn’t read it.”
I stare at him, the weight of his recklessness hits me. “You took a hell of a risk, kid.”
A bitter smile curves his lips. “I don’t expect you to understand. But if you’ve ever loved someone enough to give up everything, to stand in front of a bullet for them, then maybe you’d get it.”
My mind flashes to my daughter’s tiny face and Lucia’s pale one. I don’t need him to explain further. I already understand.
I pace for a moment, then sit in the chair by the bed. Crossing my ankle over my knee, I motion for him to stand in front of me. He doesn’t move, defiant as ever. In the end, it’s Rafael who forces him forward with a firm grip.
“Your sister is right next door,” I say, watching his reaction closely. His breathing hitches, but I cut him off before he can respond. “She’s fine. No need to worry.”
His nostrils flare. “Did you hurt her?”
I shake my head. “On the contrary. Your sister’s well-being is my top priority. You’re the one who hurt her.”
His eyes narrow in confusion, and I spell it out for him.
“She overheard me and Rafael talking about you. Pregnancy hormones and stress got the better of her, and her mind jumped to the conclusion that we’d killed you. She lost it completely. You can still see the scratches she left on both of us. Long story short, the doctors had to induce labor. The baby is in an incubator, and Lucia... she’s still depressed and sick. She’s refusing to eat or drink, trying to kill herself just to punish me for killing you.”
“Lucia was pregnant?” he asks, stunned.
“Yes,” I reply, and to crush any dangerous assumptions before they take root, I add instantly, “With my child. She’s the mother of my daughter.”
I stand up and close the space between us. He needs to be fully prepared before facing Lucia. “I get it, you have questions. You came all this way looking for answers, and I won’t stand in your way. If your intentions are exactly what you claim, I’ll even help you get those answers. But right now, the woman lying on that bed is in no condition to help you with anything. You need to help her.”
I take a deep breath, swallowing my pride along with the lump in my throat. “Please go to her. Hold her. Let her see you’re alive and well. She needs that more than anything right now.”
