Page 149 of Broken Mafia Bride
Our bubble bursts a second later at the sound of footsteps hurrying down the hall. The door flies open, and a small crowd pushes in—my sister right at the front. She freezes when she catches sight of Lucio.
I go still, wondering if it will be too much for her. To me, he was just a grandfather I barely knew. The seven weeks I’ve spent in Sardegna can never compare to the twenty-four years she spent with him. Even though she didn’t know him as her grandfather, she knew him as a guardian.
He was her whole family.
Her face screws up, and then she steps forward and spits on his dead body.
“Bastardo del cazzo.”
Then she turns to face me, tears streaming down her face. “You did it.”
I nod slowly. Behind me, Raffaele grips my hip, offering a supportive squeeze.
“Yes. How are you feeling?”
“Like Valentina.” Her smile is small, unsure. It will take her a while to grow into her new identity. I swear to myself I’ll be here for her as she works through it. And if she eventually decides she’d rather be Caterina, I’ll support that too.
After all, she’s been Caterina far longer than she was ever Valentina.
“Lucio’s down,” Tommaso says as he walks in, speaking into a burner phone. “We need a cleanup team to take his body for processing.” He pauses and looks over at me. “What do you suggest we do with—uh—him?”
I shrug and glance at Val. “What do you think?”
Her face falls. “I think he should be buried on this land. There’s an empty grave at the back of the garden next to his wife’s. I think he’d want to be buried there. This whole thing was for her, anyway.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then I nod. “You’re right.”
A look passes between us—an understanding that, regardless of all the hurt, pain, and suffering he caused, at the end of the day, the only truth now is that he’s dead. There’s no reason to continue letting our hate for him fester. If there’s an afterlife where my mother and great-grandmother are waiting, he should be terrified to go there.
Pepe steps forward and wraps his arm around his wife, and she deflates in the safety of his hold, all the tension seeping from her body. The look Pepe shoots me says it all—he’s got her, and he’s going to make sure she’ll be okay.
“What about Enrico?” Raffaele asks.
“He had to be taken to the hospital,” Tommaso reports. “He lost a lot of blood, but I’m confident that he’ll pull through.”
“Your daughter is waiting outside,” Matteo informs me. “Marco decided there’s no reason to traumatize her further by exposing her to that.” He cocks his head at Lucio’s body.
Nodding gratefully, I start to hurry out of the room to get to my daughter, but then I pause. Spinning around, I step up to Raffaele, heart pounding in my chest, and take his hand.
“Come on, let’s go get our kid.”
His blue eyes search mine, and he suddenly looks nervous. “Are you sure?”
There’s no hesitation. “Yes,” I tell him. “With all that’s happened, this might not be the best time to tell her that you’re her father, but I want you to meet her. I want her to know you and love you as much as she loves me. I want you to be a part of our lives.”
I swallow. “Is that okay?”
His response is to pull me forward and cover my mouth with his. The kiss barely lasts five seconds, but it signifies and seals a promise that has been several years in the making. With myhand in his, we walk out of the room, hope blooming fresh and bright.
Noemi’s head is tucked into the crook of Marco’s neck, and he’s whispering something to her. When we get closer, I realize he’s telling her a story about a samurai. A sob rises in my throat as I listen to the familiar words.
It was the last story we were reading before she was taken from me.
It hits me that our lives took a painful pause, but we can finally get back on track. Maybe this time, Raffaele can be the one to read her stories, but that doesn’t mean I’ll completely erase Marco from her life.
Of course, he’ll have to take a back burner, but I can’t forget that he’s the most familiar and stable figure that my daughter knows outside of me, and he’s also grown to love her through the years. It would be cruel to rip them away from each other.
“I didn’t think the samurai would make it,” I say.
