Cristiano still hasn’t moved, and he’s staring at Leon with an expression I can’t read. Not knowing what he’s thinking is worse than anything.
Say something,I want to scream.Yell at me. Storm out. Do something.
But he just stands there, frozen, while I fall apart.
The doctor clears her throat. “I’ll give you some privacy,” she says quietly, and slips away.
I should say something. Explain. Apologize. But my mouth won’t form words. I’m so tired I can barely stay upright, and my mind keeps circling the same terrible thoughts over and over again:
He knows.
He hates me.
He’s never going to help Leon.
Four years of secrets and flinching every time someone commented on how handsome Leon is, terrified they’d see the Montoni in his face. It’s over now. The truth is out, and I have no idea what comes next.
The ward carries on around us, oblivious to my world ending. The toddler in the corner is still screaming, a thin, relentless wail that drills into my skull. The call button is still being ignored.
Leon’s eyes have already drifted closed again, but Cristiano is still staring at him. I can see his mind working. Putting together the pieces. Realizing just how thoroughly I’ve deceived him.
He’s going to leave.
The thought crystallizes in my exhausted brain with terrible clarity. He’s going to walk out of this hospital and leave us here. Why wouldn’t he? I hid his son from him. I let him believe Leon belonged to another man, let him torture himself with jealousy over a rival who never existed. No man can forgive that kind of betrayal.
Or worse, he’ll stay, and he’ll take Leon from me. He has the money. The lawyers. The power. He could have me declared an unfit mother by the end of the week. He could make sure I never see my son again.
I watch him standing there in his expensive suit, so out of place in this grimy, overcrowded ward, and I think about his father. Don Agnello Montoni, who beat his son until Cristiano learned to hide his pain, and who ruled his family through fear and violence and calculated cruelty.
This is the moment,I think.This is the moment he becomes his father. I’ve pushed him to the edge.
“Cristiano,” I say, forcing the anguished words out. “Leon doesn’t have much time. A nurse will take your blood. Will you please be tested to see if you’re a donor match?”
Cristiano finally moves. He shakes his head slowly, and when he speaks, his voice is flat. Empty.
“No.”
I grab the plastic chair to keep from falling, but my hands are shaking too badly to grip anything. The room is spinning. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
No.
He’s going to let Leon die rather than help the woman who betrayed him. That “no” sounds like the end of everything.
“Cristiano.” His name comes out broken, barely a whisper. “Please.”
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t look at me. He’s staring around the ward now, taking in the chaos and the screaming baby and the flickering lights. His jaw is tight. His eyes are hard.
I stumble toward him, my legs barely holding me up. I grab his arm, his jacket, whatever I can reach. I have no pride left. I am a mother whose child is dying, and I will do anything,anything.
“Please.” I’m crying now, tears streaming down my face, and I can’t stop them. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll live with you. I’ll marry you.”
The terror of losing Leon is making me swear things that I never thought would pass my lips.
“Just please,please—”
I don’t even know what I’m begging for. For him to save Leon. For him not to take my son away. The words tumble out in a desperate flood, and I’m gripping his jacket so hard my knuckles ache.
“Please don’t punish him for what I did. He’s innocent. He’s just a little boy. He doesn’t know anything about any of this. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me. Do whatever you like to me. I deserve it. But not him. Not Leon. Please, Cristiano, I’m begging you.”
