Page 8 of Shattered Choices

She smiles gently. “Just as I knew all my life I would meet you one day. A mother’s heart always knows, even if her child is away from her.”

I glance at her, and I can see it in her eyes, the same truth I saw years ago when I found out the truth.

Six years ago

I watch as a man and two teenagers exit the house. Her kids and her husband, I guess. Taking one last deep breath, I make my way toward the front door.

There is a feeling deep down in my stomach, a feeling I lost all those years ago. I suppress it and keep moving, letting the ruthless man in me take over.

I knock on the door and wait.

I don’t wait long before a petite woman opens the door.

Her movements falter, and the hand gripping the door flies to her mouth. Her blue eyes, the same eyes as mine, land on mine, filling with tears. Is she going to scream? Cry? I narrow my eyes at her, but before I can say anything, she takes a step forward, almost colliding with me. She looks around and pulls me inside, shutting the door. I thought she might slam the door in my face, but I was wrong. Before I can say a word, she is the one to speak.

“It’s you. I knew you would learn the truth one day and come to find me.” Wringing her hands, she sobs. Was she waiting for me? But how would she know?

“You look confused,” the woman continues. “Do you want to sit down?”

“You know who I am?” I ask, ignoring her question.

“How could I not? I’ve waited for this moment for years.” She dabs under her eyes with her apron.

“You were waiting for me?” I furrow my brows.

“Of course I was. A mother always knows.”

I clear my throat, not wanting to say something I may regret. Eventually, I say, “I’m afraid I will need an explanation.”

“Let’s sit down. It’ll take a while.”

I nod as I follow her into the light-green kitchen and sit on a chair, waiting for her to start talking.

I sit, listening to a story, a different one from what I knew. One that shows the reality of my sick monster of a father.

I knew him well enough not to doubt the story I was told. I saw him with enough women to know his sick ways of treating them, even if just for one night. I stopped counting the times I called our doctor to treat them, the times I was woken in the middle of the night because he killed some of them.

But this story is mine, no matter how disturbing it is. It’s the story of my mother, Angela, and how she was ripped from her home at the age of sixteen after he killed her whole family.

The woman in front of me tells me the story like it’s a movie. Her voice shakes as she tells the story of a girl who, one day, was in school playing and laughing with her friends, and the next day was dragged into my father’s prison.

Now a woman with long, dark hair, blue eyes, and the most beautiful smile I have ever seen; I can only imagine how stunning she was when she was younger.

This woman’s only sin was her beauty, so she could bring me to life. So my father could have his heir.

Her eyes fill with tears as she tells me how I was ripped from her hands the moment I was born; she didn’t even hold me for more than five minutes. But those five minutes were all she needed to remember me.

“Frank, my husband, he was newly inducted. He was just a soldier who was ordered to get rid of me. He used to hear stories about the girl the don took because of her beauty and rumors about the things your father did to me.” She gulps at the memory. “Later, when Frank was ordered to kill me, he couldn’t. Even before he was ordered, he had a plan to run away. He had everything planned, and when they told him to kill me, he took me with him.” She smiles at the memory. “He wanted to take me to hospital and leave me there, but I refused. He nursed me back to life, and I fell for him, and the rest you can see. We have two children together, and when we changedour names, we moved here. I wanted to, if not be near you, at least be able to share the same air as you.”

I blink back tears from the memories of the past and look at the woman standing beside my window. “Come with me. I’ll make you something warm to drink. And you can tell me what has been bothering you.”

I hesitate before I find the courage to get out of my car and follow her.

I’ve been here a couple of times since I met her, after I killed my father and took over. However, I avoid coming here often. Not because I don’t want to, but because I want to protect them. Other than Gabriel, Dante, and Marco, no one in Cosa Nostra knows about them, and I want to keep it that way. For their safety, not mine. My siblings have such a normal life, away from murder and violence, and that’s how it should stay.

As soon as I enter the warm house, the smell of garlic and rosemary fills my nostrils and déjà vu hits. Before I can say anything, a shrill voice fills my ears and I don’t get to turn before the person attacks me, squeezing me like their life depends on it.

“You’re here.” Olivia, my sister. She’s so friendly toward me, like she’s known me whole her life. She doesn’t know how many men I’ve killed, nor does she know the monster that lives inside me.

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