Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Perhaps I did die?
I’ve only been asked that question once before.
It was a long time ago, when I was still naïve enough to believe in superheroes.
“Which would you pick, Lucia?” Dante asks, his voice slicing through the pounding of my pulse in my ears.
When I turn my head toward his voice, I spot the outline of his body in the shadows at the boundary of the lot. As previously discussed, he’s keeping a safe distance in case anyone is still watching.
I was highly skeptical coming into this that Edoardo would show up with Gabriele. I was just desperate enough to give anything a go.
“Lucia?”
Although confused why Dante needs to ask this question now, I’ll never not respond to a query that conquers up memories of the night my son was conceived. “I’d pick the moon because even during someone’s darkest hour, it always shines.”
I sit up, heart aching. Knowing my stepmother has access to my son terrifies me more than any weapon ever could.
Tears blur my vision as I drink in every face under the age of ten bypassing the vacant lot to reach the ferry before it leaves. I pray for Gabriele to appear, but all I’m rewarded is more disappointment.
Dante’s voice barges through the stormy clouds homing in on me. “They never intended to hand him over.”
“I know,” I whisper, ashamed by how easily I was fooled and that I dragged Dante and his family into this.
It’s insane how easily you forget basic common sense when your desperation is at a pinnacle. If someone is morally corrupt enough to barter a payday for their child, they’d never keep their side of the deal.
Before I can say anything that will have Dante worried he’s fighting for equality for the wrong woman, he asks, “What costume was Gabriele’s father wearing the night he was conceived?”
A crinkle creases the middle of my forehead, his line of questioning baffling me. “What?”
“The man.” His voice is low but urgent. “The one from the night Gabriele was conceived. What costume was he wearing?”
Why is he asking me this now? My son is at the mercy of the Wicked Witch of the West. Edoardo’s parenting techniques are the bottom of the barrel, but they’re better than the cruelty Carmela unleashes when she believes she’s been done wrong.
Me walking out of a marriage worth billions because I was pregnant with another man’s child gives her plenty of ammunition.
And don’t get me started on her being sent to do Edoardo’s bidding or I may burst into tears.
Despite my confusion, I answer slowly, “Zorro. He went as Zorro.”
I can hear Dante’s heaving chest from here.
“It’s you,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s fucking you.” A ghost from my past floats between the despair when he adds, “You wore a wig. Your hair was short, a pixie cut, and your eyes were brown.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, too shocked not to respond.
I always wore wigs when in character. Pretending to be excited about marrying a man twice my age was an Oscar-worthy performance. Only the night of my hen’s party did I feel myself, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol I consumed to try to forget.
Dante shouldn’t know any of that. I’ve never told anyone about the night my child’s conception shattered a multimillion-dollar alliance.
“Don’t. Please,” I plead to Dante when one step unshadows his polished boots and his belt buckle. Gabriele is still out there, so we have to keep our deception going a little longer.
Dante freezes before asking, “Have you ever seen Gabriele, Lucia?”
Tears prick my eyes as I nod. “We FaceTime—”
“Not on a screen,” he interrupts, words firing from his mouth. “When he was born. Did you see him then?”
Pain burns through my chest when my mind flashes back to that day. The pain was horrific. I thought my body was tearing apart. Gabriele was breech. I begged for help, but my stepmother told me to stop being so dramatic and push.
I’d never felt pain like that, but it was nothing compared to the hurt that shredded through me when I didn’t even get to hold Gabriele before they took him away from me.
I tried to fight, but I was hemorrhaging badly. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t even lift my head.
“No,” I whisper, choking on a sob. “I never saw him.”
Dante’s balk ripples through the air. Then he speaks words that shatter the ground beneath me. “Gabriele isn’t your son, Lucia.”
I jerk back as my fury rises so fast it burns. “How dare you!”
I’m furious, but then he says something else. Something impossible. Something only one person has ever said to me. “The moon and the sun don’t always get to see each other, but they both need each other in order to properly shine.”
That line was whispered in my ear on the night my life changed forever.