Page 64 of Silent Vows

But fear plagues me. Not about biology or bloodlines—those concerns died the day I chose Bianca as mine—but about the kind of father I can be. The weight of legacy sits heavy on my chest.

Every choice I’ve made since taking control of the DeLuca empire has been calculated, measured against potential consequences. But this? This tiny life Bella and I created? There’s nothing calculated about the way my heart races every time I think about it. About tiny fingers and first steps and the chance to do everything differently this time.

With Bianca, I was barely more than a boy myself, thrust into fatherhood by circumstances I couldn’t control. I made mistakes—too protective sometimes, too distant others, always terrifiedof becoming the monster who raised me. But Bianca’s love, her unwavering trust even when I didn’t deserve it, somehow made me better. Made me want to be better.

Now I have a second chance. A child created in love rather than obligation. But the old fears whisper in Giuseppe’s voice:Can a man like me, with blood on his hands and darkness in his soul, really be the father this baby deserves?

Can I protect them from the violence of our world without becoming the very thing I fear?

I press my hand more firmly against Bella’s stomach, trying to convey through touch alone how much I already love this child. How I’ll die before I let anyone hurt them. How I’ll spend every day making sure they know they’re loved, wanted, chosen—everything I never had growing up.

My own childhood rises like a specter—Giuseppe’s “lessons” about power and control, the weight of expectations crushing any hint of weakness. I was never a son to him, only an heir to be molded. But Bianca changed everything. Holding her that first time, I finally understood what a father should be. What love without conditions felt like.

This baby will never know that kind of fear. Will never question their worth or their place in our family. I’ll make sure they grow up surrounded by art and love and possibility—just like their mother. They’ll inherit my name, my protection, but not my sins. Not my father’s legacy of pain.

“What are you thinking?” she asks softly, her fingers tracing the scar on my chest. “You’ve gone somewhere dark.”

“Just thinking about protection.” I press a kiss to her hair. “And how much has changed since Bianca was born.”

“Tell me?” Her request is gentle, understanding. “What was it like, becoming a father then?”

The memories flood back—not all of them dark. “I was terrified,” I admit. “Not because she wasn’t mine by blood,but because suddenly this tiny perfect being depended on me completely. Me, who’d only ever known how to destroy things.”

“But you learned to protect instead.”

“She taught me.” My voice roughens with emotion. “That first night in the hospital, when she wrapped her whole hand around my finger…I knew I’d burn the world down to keep her safe.”

Bella’s quiet for a moment, processing. Then, “Do you want this one to be a boy?” The question holds a note of insecurity that makes my heart ache. “To carry on the DeLuca name?”

“No.” The firmness of my response surprises us both. The truth is, the thought of a son terrifies me in ways I can’t fully express. Would I see Giuseppe’s features in his face? Would I hear my father’s voice every time I tried to guide him? “I mean, I’ll love this baby regardless, but…” I cup her face, needing her to understand. “I’d love another daughter. One with your eyes and fierce heart.”

Her laugh is watery. “The great Matteo DeLuca, brought to his knees by his daughters?”

“Gladly.” I kiss her softly, tasting salt from tears she’s trying to hide. Having two daughters to love, to protect, to watch grow into strong women who know their worth—it would be everything I never knew I needed. Everything Giuseppe was wrong about. “Though if it is a boy…” I hesitate, suddenly nervous. “I’d like to name him Giovanni.”

“Your father was the best man I knew.” My voice catches as memories of my best friend surface. All the times he showed me what a real father should be, how he loved his daughter unconditionally, supported her dreams, chose art supplies over weapons. Everything Giuseppe wasn’t. “He’d have loved being a grandfather.”

“He’d have spoiled them rotten,” she whispers, and I feel her tears against my chest. “Taking them to art museums, teaching them to shoot…”

“Just like he did with you.” I hold her closer as she cries, understanding this mixture of joy and grief. My mind drifts to Giovanni, to how he would have handled today’s news. He’d have been overjoyed, probably already planning how to turn my security room into an art studio for his grandchild.

“He knew, you know.” I find myself saying, lost in memories of my best friend. “That this baby would be a possibility.”

She stills in my arms. “What do you mean?”

“That last night we shared cigars, before everything went wrong…he talked about grandchildren.” The memory is still fresh, still painful. “Said he hoped that when the time came, our families would be joined by love rather than arrangement. That any child of yours would be…” My voice catches. “Would be something good in this dark world.”

“You never told me that,” she whispers, clutching onto me.

“There’s still so much I haven’t told you. So much I want to share…”

A knock interrupts whatever else I might have confessed. “Dad?” Bianca’s voice carries through the door, tension evident even muffled. “Antonio needs you. Both of you.”

We dress quickly, years of midnight emergencies making the process efficient. My eyes follow Bella as she pulls one of my sweaters over her silk nightgown. The sight of her drowning in my clothes, her hair tumbling loose around her shoulders, makes my chest ache. Even like this—or maybe especially like this—she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

We find Bianca and Antonio in the security room, the space lit only by the blue glow of multiple monitors. The technological heart of our protection system hums with quiet efficiency—dozens of screens showing every angle of our territory. Elena’s apartment building features prominently on the main display.

“What happened?” Bella demands, instantly alert. Her hand finds mine in the dim light.

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