Page 87 of Wretched Choices

All I can think of is how I’m not fit to be a father. How the bastard who was my father doesn’t deserve to have his name on this Earth.

Did she do this on purpose? But why? She never wanted this in the first place. We had a deal. This marriage was supposed to end.

“What happened here?” Gabriel’s voice brings me back to reality. I didn’t even hear him come in. All he needs is to see the fury and anger on my face to know something is really wrong.

“Salvatore, what happened?”

“My wife is pregnant.” I don’t need to tell him the rest. He knows all of it.

“I see.” He looks around my office before adding, “Let’s go.” He puts his hand on my shoulder before exiting the room, and I follow.

“How much did you drink?” Gabriel asks after I land another failed punch to his face. My hand lands shy of his ear.

“Not enough,” I say as he punches me in the face. I wobble and fall on the middle of the ropes in the ring, my hand lowering to support my fall.

“You know the promise you made to your father sucks, right?”

“Screw you, Gabriel. How could you say that? You were there. You saw what he was and heard all he did.”

“Yes. That’s why I need to be the rational one.” I try to straighten myself, but he kicks me in the gut.

“Rational about what? I can’t be a father. I will not be a father. I will not let his name continue.” My anger gives me an adrenaline rush, and I get up and launch at him, kicking him in the stomach.

“Maybe it will be a girl,” he says under a grunt.

I throw a fist in his face. “That’s even worse. The same thing that happened to my mother could happen to her.”

He comes at me, his shoulder hitting my torso, and we land on the floor, wrestling. “Why are you thinking the worst? You would be there and take care of her. You would never let anything happen to her.”

“Isabella did this on purpose. I told her I don’t want any kids. She did it so she can give her father a grandson.”

“That is just a bunch of nonsense, Salvatore and you know it. If you really didn’t want any children, you could have had a vasectomy, but you didn’t because deep inside you, you maybe wanted a family.”

His words do something to me, and I struggle in his choke hold.

“Admit it and I’ll let you go.”

“I won't because I won’t have a child.”

I roar in his grip, even if it comes out muffled. He lets go only after I tap out. I breathe heavily as I get up, leaning on the ropes of the ring.

“You are not your father, Salvatore. That child has nothing to do with him.”

“It has everything to do with him, his wishes, and his legacy that ruined lives. Mine included.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“It does,” I say and exit the ring. Before I leave, I turn to him. “You should go back to your new wife. Even if you didn’t want to go on a honeymoon, spend time with her. Or are you avoiding her?” I raise a brow at him and don’t wait for an answer because I know it.

His marriage was for the benefit of the family, not one like his parents, of love. I guess we both have to live with our decisions.

I spend the rest of the day and the night in the office of my club. It was renovated after the bomb ruined it. I couldn’t go home, neither could I stay in a hotel. This place is the best option, and the fact that I made my vows and promises here is not lost on me.

How do I accept the fact that I will be a father? How do I accept his wishes have come true even in his grave?

Those were my thoughts as I drifted into sleep in the early morning hours until sometime before noon when the ringing of my phone wakes me up. As I open my eyes, I realize I fell asleep on the couch.

I ignore my phone and use the bathroom to relieve myself and wash my face. I catch the reflection of my face in the mirror. I don’t see myself, I see him. It doesn’t matter that I don’t look like him. I have my mother’s eyes and her high cheekbones.

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