I hiccup on a sob, and he reacts to me. The mere fact he’s thought of that sort of future with me darkens another corner of my heart. I won’t ever be able to give him what he wants and that inadequacy makes me feel not merely enough for him. Zane Maverick is destined for only greatness. Once before, I believed I was the one to not only give him that but to also live it with him. Now, I’m pretty sure there is another woman out there waiting for her world to collide with his just so she can give him the happiest of endings.
The thought alone devastates me furthermore, and as I unravel once more, he’s the one who catches me. It’s that which makes me cling to him more. Every time I enter into freefall, he is there to catch me gracefully in his arms. He may be the one most able to hurt me, but he is the one to love me most. No matter what storm weathers our relationship, I will always love him. Heartbreak, deceit, near deaths, and my commitment to the wrong people hasn’t broken us.. If anything, it’s made us a stronger couple. I feel like Zane’s plight into the Dio Lavoro was always made with the ulterior motive to make me love him more. He showed his dedication to me when it should’ve been with my father, and he survived my cold-hearted moves to be here today.
I know the truth will crush him, but I can’t bear to have that deliverance when I need him far too much.
***
I lie staring directly up at the ceiling above me. My thoughts drift across a vast spectrum of thoughts – Manuel, Giovanni, my father, Enzo, Zane, Bruno, Carlo, my mother, and then it goes back on a loop. I hate how the majority of my life events are defined by death or devious deeds. That’s no life to look back on. Without Zane, the darkness would be all I’d know, but with him, he penetrates it and forces me to live everything with my heart protected and believe in hope.
“Bambina.” My father’s voice cracks the almost golden silence of the room. He waits until I look at him before he speaks again. “Amelia,” he breathes with a broken spirit.
The Salvatore Abbiati - boss, mogul, devil incarnate - looks worn down and distraught at the life he now lives. His empire is splintering to pieces, descending into rubble, and I cannot find any form of pity. This is what he’s brought upon us. The fate he cast upon us the very moment we were born is one he prided himself with, one he vowed would see him reach the top of any criminal hierarchy.
All I see is a bunch of lost children who struggled to seek the right path in the wrong world. That’s all we are, all we were really destined to be – misguided souls.
“I can’t believe it came to this,” he whispers, taking a graceful step into the room.
I remain unmoved. I allow him to take the sight of me in – the disheveled, red-eyed victim left behind. If I’m honest, the fear that strikes to life in the thought of Giovanni also resonates with my father. They are cut from the same cloth, and I cannot help but see my brother as a product of my father’s doing. He enabled Giovanni to murder our own with intent to kill two more; I cannot just let that escape my mind.
“I’m so sorry, bambina. I never knew he was capable of doing such a thing,” he comments and I scoff at the thought, mocking it. “What Giovanni has done has destroyed me more than you’ll ever know.” He takes a calculated step forward. “I love you, Amelia. I wish it hadn’t taken this to show me how much I do. When I saw you on my desk, my life stopped. Even more so than when we found Manuel and Enzo.” I hear a quiver in his tone; clearly my silence cuts deep and opens him to his real emotions. “I tried to see you while you were in a coma, but Bruno and Carlo kept me out. I got one glimpse of you and you looked so weak and were dependent on so many machines to keep you alive. I should never have needed that type of wake-up call. My strong baby girl was barely holding on and that was my fault for never seeing the man that Giovanni was becoming. I will forever relive that day.”
He starts to cry. That nearly breaks my resolve, but I remain strong by keeping my empathy at bay. He needs to struggle and hurt and endure every shard of pain he ever ignored us suffering from. He has to suffer for every misdeed he allowed us to struggle with. I cannot allow him a free pass because I cannot forgive him for the life he wanted for us; the life that is now slowly killing us one by one.
“Please talk to me, Amelia,” he begs, my father spiraling into the form of a desperate man. I have seen many faces to my father, but this one is new. He has adorned many masks, shred many emotions, but never have I seen this amount of turmoil.
I narrow my gaze, but I say nothing he’ll enjoy hearing.
“When is Manuel’s funeral?” I ask, not instigating the father-daughter chitchat. “I don’t want to miss it.”
He splutters for a moment, stunned momentarily for my true lack of heart toward him. “I would never allow you or Enzo to miss something like that. Manuel needs you two there most,” he says, pausing afterwards.