Page 121 of Vicious Heir

It hits me then, the sudden realization. It’s almost overwhelming how much I feel it.

“I want to be here for this baby,” I say very quietly.

Lucy looks up in surprise. “I know that. You will be.”

“No, I mean, forever.”

“Adriano, of course you will. You’re her father. No matter what.”

I let out a long breath. I lean over and kiss my incredible wife. I breathe in their smell, earthy and rich, and I shuffle into the bed beside them. It creaks under my weight. I don’t give a damn.

“I mean, I won’t end up like my father. I won’t die like many Dons before me. I’m going to be here well into my old age to watch Alessia grow up and find her own way.”

Lucy’s glowing as she strokes her daughter’s thin dark hair. “I know that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Adriano,I know. You’re the only person in this whole world that doesn’t realize it yet.”

“Realize what?”

“You’re one of the most obsessive and stubborn people I’ve ever met. You’ll do whatever it takes to be there for us, forever. There’s zero doubt in me. You’re going to be a good father.”

That’s what I needed to hear. A piece of me unclenches, and I know she’s right.

I lean against my wife, wrapping my arms around her, and smile as my daughter slows and starts to blink, her little eyes getting heavy with sleep.

Epilogue: Lucy

Six Months Later

Maria Flores looksat me across the dingy diner table. Midnight Cafe is busy at ten in the morning deep in West Philly. I’m in designer shoes, slacks, a nice button-down, muted makeup, and my hair pulled back, and I stand out among the working-class people around me. Plumbers are at the counter, electricians are grouped toward the back. A couple of cops are drinking coffee, and one of them laughs loudly. Maria fits in better, wearing jeans and a simple sweater, though she still screams “email office job.”

“I’m trying hard to believe you,” she says, sipping her coffee. “But this is a lot to take in.”

“I totally understand.” I sit up straight and lean forward. “Does it help if I write the check right now?”

“Probably, but it’s not really how we do things. I mean, there are forms to fill out, people to loop in. We’re talking a lot of money here.”

“Oh, I know. One point two million is a big deal.”

“That’s like… four years of operating budget.” She laughs, a little hysterical. “I still can’t believe you’re serious.”

I glance to the side. Adriano’s tucked at the far end of the counter with Vittorio by his side. Both men are pretending like they’re not watching me, but I know they mean well. My husband would never let me go anywhere without a little protection. It doesn’t matter where—diner on the west side, bar in Old City. He’s a big, obsessive grizzly bear, and I love that man with all my damn heart.

“When I was younger, my father died of an overdose. My mother spiraled after that, going really heavy on the drinking and the drugs, and died in a car accident not long later. I’m telling you that so you understand. This cause is personal to me.”

Maria’s face softens. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

“I know my last name was Willing-Morris. My last name now is Marino. I have a lot of privilege, but tragedy doesn’t care how much money you have in the bank.”

“Makes tragedy easier to handle though when you’re filthy rich.”

I smile slightly. “You’d think.”

“Listen, Mrs. Marino?—”

“Call me Lucy. Please.”

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