“You don’t have to beg. Of course, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever she needs. She’s all I have left.”
I still need to make one thing clear, so I issue a final warning. “I swear on my daughter’s life, if you so much as think about hurting her, I’ll make your death so painful they’ll write about it in history books.”
“Fair enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Now, can I see my sister?”
I open the door to Lucia’s room and step aside to let him in. She’s already sitting up, tense and expectant. When she sees me, she leans forward slightly, wincing as the movement tugs at her stitches. Her expression shifts between pain and hope.
When Fabiano steps into view behind me, she gasps audibly. Her eyes well up with tears. She stretches both arms toward him, trembling. Fabiano rushes to her like a bullet, ignoring the nurse’s warnings about the stitches.
Before the nurse can finish her warning, the two collide in a desperate embrace, clutching each other like soldiers reunited after surviving a brutal war.
***
I take Lucia’s hand and help her out of the wheelchair. As she stands in front of the incubator, I start to pull my hand away, but she doesn’t let go. Instead, she tightens her grip, lifts my hand with both of hers, and presses it to her heart.
I glance at her, but her attention is fixed entirely on our tiny daughter inside the incubator. Her eyes are unreadable, and the mask covering her face makes it hard to discern her expression. I gently squeeze her fingers and reassure her about the wires and machines.
“She might not look like it, but she’s doing perfectly fine. The doctor assured me she’ll be out of here in a few weeks.”
Her voice is soft but tinged with sadness. “I just want to hold her, Tony. I feel like I failed. I couldn’t protect her. I put her in danger.”
“Then learn from your mistake and trust me next time.” My tone comes out sharper than I intended.
She turns to me and gently strokes my hand. “I promise, Tony. From now on, I’ll trust you completely, no questions asked. I just need you to forgive my past mistakes…because I’ve already forgiven you.”
She glances at our little fighter in the incubator. “We have a daughter now.”
She looks at me again, hope in her eyes. I pull her into my arms, resting my chin over her head. “Thank you for forgiving me, princess. I forgive you too.”
Her arms tighten around me. Looking at our daughter, I murmur, “We need a name for her.”
I gently pull back to meet her eyes. “Do you already have one in mind?”
She avoids my eyes and nods slightly. Her nervousness makes me want to ease it.
“I wouldn’t object if you wanted to name her after your mother. I know how much she meant to you.”
Her voice is heavy with regret. “Thank you. It’s generous of you, but I don’t want to name her after a woman who lived a life of suffering and never knew real love.”
“I’ve been thinking…Antonia,” she says after a pause.
That catches me off guard. The feminine version of my own name? A warmth surges through me, filling me with a mix of pride, love, and a tenderness I’ve never felt before. Her hesitant question pulls me back.
“Do you like it, Tony?”
I glance at our daughter. “It suits her perfectly. Nothing in this world is more precious to me than her.”
I wrap my arm around Lucia’s shoulders and look at her. “Nothing is more precious than her…and her mother.”
TWENTY-ONE
Lucia
As I hold Antonia in my arms, I can’t stop looking at her. How is it even possible to love someone this much? The little sounds she makes while nursing are the most beautiful melody in the world. Her green eyes droop with sleep, but she’s too stubborn to give in just yet.
Her tiny lips loosen around my breast for a moment, only to latch back on with new determination, her little eyes wide with focus. I laugh softly, and I plant a gentle kiss on her tiny fist as it waves aimlessly in the air. The warmth of her body and her sweet scent wash over me.
The number of people I genuinely love in my life is small—my brother and Tony. I know without a doubt that I’d give my life for either of them without hesitation. But the love I feel for my daughter is on another level entirely. It’s not just about being willing to sacrifice myself for her. No, it’s an overwhelming, primal instinct that makes me feel ready to tear apart anyone who so much as thinks of harming her.
