Page 43 of Tragic Empire
“It wasn’t,” I disagree. With a stranger, it would be. But Ana isn’t a stranger. “All of my brothers, we had complicated relationships with her. Apollo doesn’t speak about her, Matteo won’t even call her mom, and Nico hardly interacted with her while she was still alive.That’swhy we don’t talk about it, not because it’s too sensitive or too personal.”
“Oh.”
“She wasn’t a bad mother, as far as bad mothers go,” I preface with a slight wince. Matteo might disagree with me, and that would be his right. But our mom could have been a million times worse.
“After she had Matteo, she had this weird mood shift. She told Dad she didn’t want any more kids, so their relationship was effectively over.”
“Which is how Jade came to be,” Ana concludes.
“Exactly,” I concur. “About eight years later, Apollo and Dad found her in her bathtub, both wrists slit up to her elbows.”
Ana gasps, eyes going wide with horror.
“She had a brain tumor,” I continue, not fazed by past grief. This loss was buried a long time ago. “We didn’t know, of course. No one did. For a year she went to every specialist out there, pretending to be on vacations or shopping trips. But when every doctor she saw agreed it was terminal, she decided to end her own life before the tumor could.”
“That’s so sad,” Ana murmurs.
“It was pretty fucked up,” I admit with a shrug. “Leon was hit the hardest. He was always her favorite.”
“Parents shouldn’t have favorites,” she grumbles like she’s angry on my siblings’ behalf.
“It’s not always that simple,” I tell her, shrugging once more. “She was raised to be a perfect mafia wife. Having babies and living a lavish life fueled her. Once that was done, so was she.”
Ana frowns. “But Dante wouldn’t?—”
I sigh, cutting off her protest. I already know what she’s trying to say. It’s what everyone says. Dante Moretti wouldn’t treat a wife that way.
“He wouldn’t,” I agree. “Hedidn’t. But one man can’t untangle years of conditioning. He loved her, as much as she allowed.”
A man doesn’t watch a beautiful woman giving him nine children and feel indifferent.That’s what Dad has always said, and he meant it.
I hadn’t meant to go into such detail, but the information seems to be distracting Ana from her own pain. I’ll tell her as many stories as she wants if it keeps her from sobbing uncontrollably.
“He tried but it was never enough. He even tried to stop having kids after Elio and Emilio,” I admit. I only know this because of Apollo.
“He was worried that the pregnancies would be too much for her but she cried and cried until he agreed to continue for as long as she wanted. Being a mother was her dream, even though she couldn’t quite figure out thelovingpart.”
Clearing my throat, I shake off old memories threatening to filter in. “I’m sure if you asked each of us, we’d have a different answer. But I mostly feel sorry for her—Dad too. She lived a painful life and he tried so hard to make it a good one.”
“That’s tragic,” Ana breathes. “Even if it could have been so much worse for both of them. Arranged marriages… they’re hard to predict.”
“They certainly could have been dealt worse hands,” I agree.
She nods solemnly. “I could have been, too. So, umm, thank you for?—”
“You don’t need to thank me, Ana,” I remind her.
She doesn’t argue, even though she looks like she wants to disagree.
“I don’t want to plan her funeral,” she eventually admits in a broken whisper. “I don’t think I can.”
“I can do it.”
Her wet eyes burst open. “You would do that?”
“I’ll work with Gerard on it,” I tell her seriously. “All you’ll need to do is attend. I’ll take care of it all.”
Her breath shutters and she tucks herself closer to me. “You promise?”
