Page 70 of Dario DeLuca

As we walk, I can almost feel the weight of history pressing on me. This cold, sterile environment has witnessed the rise and fall of men like my father, who wielded power like a sword, forged alliances, and shattered them in equal measure. It has seen just as much death as it has healing, and that scares me.

Frankie pauses outside a door, his hand on the handle.

"He's been waiting for you," he says, his voice a low rumble. There's a flicker of something in his eyes—respect, perhaps even a hint of pity.

I nod, steeling myself for what lies beyond. The door swings open, and I step into a room awash with the soft beep of monitors and the hush of filtered air.

And there, amidst a tangle of tubes and wires, lies my father.

His eyes find mine, and in that moment, a lifetime of unsaid words hangs between us. Apologies. Regrets. The weight of a legacy I'd never fully understood until now.

"Dad," I whisper, my voice cracking.

He struggles to sit up as I approach the bed, concern etching deeper furrows into his brow.

"You came." Each word is an effort, breath escaping in short, ragged gasps. "I didn't think…”

"Shh." I perch on the edge of the mattress, taking his hand in mine. Fingers that were once strong now feel frail, the skin loose over knobby knuckles and protruding veins. "I'm here now.”

His eyes lock onto mine, and I see the reflection of myself in his gaze.

"Dad..." I trail off, the words not yet formed, a tangle of apologies and confessions.

I swallow hard, gathering the scattered pieces of my resolve.

"I'm sorry for everything," I finally manage, the syllables heavy with regret.

His fingers twitch in my grasp, and a smile touches his lips. "My fierce girl. Always so stubborn. Just like…”

“You,” I interject. “At least that’s what Mom always says.”

He tries to laugh, but the pain causes too much discomfort.

“Dad,” I whisper-shout his name.

After a few moments, he begins again. “You have nothing to apologize for, Mia. You are my daughter, my legacy. Everything I've done, every choice I've made, has been for you. I’m the one who is sorry. My only mission is to protect you and your mother at any cost.”

He takes a deep breath to pace himself.

“However, it is no excuse for not telling you the truth and not letting you know the potential danger we were facing. Can you forgive me? I’ll figure out a way to undo this marriage thing with Dario. I want my princess back.”

“Dad, shutting you out and not allowing you to explain yourself was valid but not right. You should know that you can always come to me, even if it is something as bad as a family threat. Together, we could’ve figured it out, or at least I could’ve been a part of the decision to marry Dario.” I take a few moments to allow my words to wash over him.

A few days ago, my whole world was turned upside down when my father was a mere inch away from certain death. A few months ago, Dario was no one to me other than the man responsible for building our community center. Now, my father is on the mend from a bullet meant to take him out, along with planned attacks against my family, the Harris’ and my fiancé. Sins of the father, I suppose, is his motif.

“You’re right,” he says. “I have nothing else to add to that other than, you’re right. It would’ve been better for us if I had only told you about the situation. Maybe you wouldn’t have to marry Dario.”

A shiver runs through me when he says that. Lately, I find myself closer to Dario than anyone I’ve ever been with. But I don’t know how to tell him that, so I change the subject.

“I do have some news about the community center.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I’ve talked to the detective, and they are just about finished wrapping up the investigation. Dario's team will begin the repairs shortly and replace any items damaged. We are looking at a five-week turnaround before we can reopen.”

“That’s great to hear.” His gaze drops to my hand, where I am wearing the engagement ring, and then back up to meet mine. “So, how are things between you and Dario?” he asks.

I twirl the jewelry around my finger as I contemplate an answer that describes the dynamics of this relationship.

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