Page 126 of The Don's Soulmate

My father starts to sputter, but I cut him off. "I've chosen Carlotta and our child.”

“Child?” -

I ignore him. “Since you can't accept that, you can go to hell. I don’t need you, your name or your money."

The words pour out of me, months of resentment and anger finally finding their release. My grip on the phone is so tight I'm surprised it doesn't crack.

"Ettore, you can't-" my father begins, but I've already pulled the phone away from my ear.

"Watch me," I snarl and end the call with a vicious jab of my thumb.

My chest heaves as I turn to Carlotta, emotions warring within me. Her green eyes are wide, filled with a mix of sadness and concern. I reach for her hand, grasping it tightly in mine.

"It's done," I say, my voice rough with barely contained emotion. "It's just us now, tesoro. You, me, and our baby."

I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a fierce kiss to her knuckles. "I choose you. Always."

Three hours later, the door to the hospital room bursts open, startling me from my thoughts. My father and brother storm in, their faces a storm of conflicting emotions. My muscles tense instinctively, ready for a fight as I jump to my feet, but something in their expressions gives me pause.

"Carlotta," my father says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "We owe you an apology."

I watch, stunned, as he approaches her bedside. His eyes and his voice are filled with remorse. My brother hangs back, but his face mirrors our father's remorse.

"We were wrong," my father continues. "Our judgment...our prejudices...they were unfounded and cruel. Can you forgive us for our foolishness? We should never have judged you on the basis of something that happened two hundred years ago. Please, I don’t want to lose my son…my grandchild."

I feel Carlotta's hand tighten in mine. Her wheat-brown skin seems to glow in the harsh hospital light as she looks up at my father, her green eyes searching his face.

"I..." she starts, her voice trembling. "My father has never sought forgiveness from me. You... you don't need to ask for mine."

Tears well up in her eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks. I want to pull her close, to shield her from this vulnerability, but something holds me back. There's a shift happening here, a seismic change I can feel in my bones.

My father's face softens further. "Oh, my dear," he says, reaching out hesitantly. "You are far too kind. But I do need to ask. We've wronged you terribly so."

I watch, my heart pounding, as Carlotta and my father lock eyes. There's an understanding passing between them, a connection forming that I can't quite grasp. It's as if they're seeing each other truly for the first time.

"Then I forgive you," Carlotta whispers, a small smile gracing her lips. "Both of you."

I watch the interaction unfold, a storm of emotions churning inside me. My fingers twitch, itching to reach for the cigar in my pocket – a habit I've relied on to calm my nerves for years. But I resist, forcing myself to focus on the scene before me.

My father, the formidable Don I've both feared and admired my entire life, stands humbled before Carlotta. Her gentle warmthseems to melt away years of his hardened exterior. It's as if I'm witnessing the collision of two worlds – my brutal, unforgiving past and the promise of a softer future.

"Ettore," my father's gruff voice breaks through my thoughts. "Your Carlotta... she's a remarkable woman."

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. "She is," I manage to say, my voice hoarse with emotion.

My brother steps forward, his eyes fixed on Carlotta's swollen belly. "We want you both to know," he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "that we're here for you. All of you."

My father nods solemnly. "Whatever comes – whether it's dealing with Carlotta's family or facing any other challenges – we stand with you."

I feel my jaw clench, old instincts flaring up. "And if I don't want your help?" I growl, the words escaping before I can stop them.

Carlotta's hand finds mine, her touch instantly soothing my frayed nerves. I take a deep breath, trying to quell the anger that's always simmering just beneath the surface.

My father's eyes meet mine, a mixture of determination and remorse in them. "Then we'll respect your wishes, son. But know that our support, our protection—it's yours, unconditionally—for you, Carlotta, and your child."

I feel Carlotta squeeze my hand, and I look down at her. Her green eyes are filled with hope, silently pleading with me to accept this olive branch. I've spent so long fighting against them. But now, with Carlotta by my side and our child on the way, I find myself considering a different path.

"Alright," I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "We'll see where this goes."

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