Page 84 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia King

“This is my fault,” she says.

“You didn’t do this.”

She looks at me, searching my face for the truth.

“Did someone else…?”

“I don’t know.”

But I’m so convinced of it, it feels like a lie.

It can’t be coincidence. The timing was too perfect. I don’t bother calling Elijah or Salvatore. Somehow, in my gut, I already know what has happened at that meeting. I am sure when we get home—with Harper in tow, alive and well, because that must be how it is—Nadia will clean house, from top to bottom. Wipe down everything, throw out every piece of food, check every bottle cap, clean her room until it’s spotless.

I am going to clean house, too. Just not like that.

Nadia sniffles quietly, both her hands locked around Harper’s smaller one. The room is too quiet.

“She’ll be alright,” I say finally say, but it’s not an empty promise. It’s an ultimatum. I’m not giving Harper another option. My first stern demand as a father. Live, or you’re grounded.

Nadia seems to get worse instead of better. Time weighs down on her, wears her thin.

“I should have told you a long time ago, Ren,” Nadia eventually says, her voice an intrusion on the silence pressing in on us. “I should have told you the truth. Not that it matters right now, I just…” Her hand palms at her eyes, but they’re dry now; she’s all cried out. “You can only carry so much guilt at once, you know? And I’m full up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to pretend like you didn’t figure it out. I know you put it together.”

I stare at her, still unsure.

“Nadia, I’m not in the mood for guessing games,” I sigh, but it’s more a plea than a warning. I just don’t have the mental energy for it. Not right now.

“Jesus, you’re really going to make me say it… She’s yours, Ren,” Nadia admits softly, searching my face. I search hers, looking for another clue, as if the words don’t fit together. “Harper is your daughter. She basically announced it. At the dinner? She’s almost seven.” She laughs, the sound wet. “What was our favorite thing to do almost seven years ago?”

I stare down at the little girl on the bed, my heart going a mile per hour after hearing Nadia’s words. My head feels dizzy, the words ring untrue. How can a sweet, lovely little kid like Harper… be mine?

My daughter. My biological daughter.

I swallow hard, clearing my throat. “What?” I bark, “…That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“What, you don’t believe me?” Nadia asks, on the verge of hysteria.

Fuck. We probably shouldn’t do this. Not here and now, but when else?

Her derision becomes a frantic laugh, “All this time I’ve tried to hide it from you, when I could have just waved it in your face, and you can’t even bother believing me—”

I snapped. “I’ve been going insane, Nadia, thinking who the fuck is the father. Who is the little prick that got even a little bit of your attention? You said he died!” I roar, the words leaving my mouth without my permission.

“Yes! Because I thought a part of you did! The part of you that loved me, at least. I was talking about you, Ren. You are the only man I’ve ever loved!”

My breath is now coming in short gasps, trying to think past the cacophony of voices in my head screaming she’s never had another man in her life. There’s no one else I have to kill, no ghost I have to fight for her attention. She’s utterly, truly, completely mine. And so is our daughter.

I let out a manic laugh, unable to control myself. She’s right, though. The part of me that loved her… It should’ve died—but it’s a stubborn old thing. Like one of those cancer patients that somehow keep living through their last year, again and again, defying the odds. A green leaf still on the branch late into winter. Like the nerves in my hand. That part of me wouldn’t die even if it was better for me.

“…Then there was never someone else,” I grunted, trying to wrap my mind around the fucking bomb she dropped on my lap. And what a fucking bomb.

“No one. Not one single person. You aren’t the only one who waited, Ren.”

The words slip under my skin, wreak havoc in my veins, my heart, my head. I look up at the white, overly bright lights above us. Nadia waited. She waited for me, just like I kept waiting for her. Fuck. My head and heart and mouth lock up as if I don’t want to believe it, as if I can’t. Things like this…They never happen to me. There must be some reason it isn’t true. Some catch.

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