Page 41 of Mine Again
But Mamma understands. I understand.
And from the way Mia’s mouth presses into a hard line, she gets it too.
Romeo drags a hand through his hair. “They found his body in the river,” he adds quietly. “It looks like he was dumped there after he was killed.”
Everyone remains silent.
The mood is heavy.
Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m feeling.
Or maybe I’m just too afraid to admit it to myself. Because it’s wrong to feel that kind of thing about one’s father.
But the sensation twisting in my chest can’t be ignored. And it most certainly isn’t grief. I know by now what that feels like.
It’s something colder. Lighter.
It’s like breathing air after years underwater. Like a space opening inside my chest where grief should be.
Relief.
I curl my fingers into my palms, pressing hard until my nails bite into my skin. I don’t want to feel it, but I do. And judging by the silence stretching around me, I suspect I’m not the only one.
“Who found him?” Mamma asks, her posture composed.
Romeo straightens, slipping into the formal tone he uses for official business.
“One of our men from Rome. He was checking in on the house after no one answered his calls.”
Beside me, Mia shifts. “Was Father targeted specifically?” she asks.
Her voice isn’t trembling. It’s measured. Calculated.
Romeo’s jaw flexes once before he answers. “It would appear that way.”
No denial. No soft lies.
Ari leans forward slightly. “Arewesafe?”
I draw in a shallow breath, my mind spinning faster now.
Father’s sins must have finally caught up with him. But if someone like him could be hunted and executed, what does that mean for the rest of us?
Romeo answers, calm but firm. “We believe he was targeted because of who he was and his position inla famiglia. There’s no reason for them to come after you. But just in case, I’ve arranged for extra security for you and this estate.”
I’m quiet, feeling disconnected from my body, like I’m watching someone else on this beach.
Is it the shock? Or the relief?
No matter my feelings toward my father, how cold, manipulative, or overbearing he was, Antonio Accardi was a fortress.
And now that fortress is demolished.
I rub my neck and move my head from side to side. My whole body is tight. Locked.
I can’t be here anymore.
I turn and leave the beach, going back inside. I walk aimlessly until I find myself near Father’s study. The door is closed, untouched since he left for Rome. I stare at it, resting my fingers on the handle.
