Page 111 of Of Lies and Shadows

“Don’t you?” Iarch a brow. “Vito made a mistake. But he’s been with me longer than anyone. Love… desire… they can twist your thinking, fog your judgment. He’s paid for it. His death won’t bring her peace. And it sure as hell won’t fix what’s broken.”

“You should show her this side of you.”

“What side?” I ask flatly.

“The side that chooses loyalty over ego. That values honor and friendship over vengeance.”

I pause, my jaw tight. “That side of me only existsbecauseof her. I need to go home.” I scrub a hand down my face. “See the kids. Shower. Change.”

Bruno nods once, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll go back to the hospital. Sit with her.”

I meet his gaze. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

The ride back is quiet, hollow. Like the city itself knows what was almost lost.

By the time I walk through the front door, the house feels different, too clean, too quiet. The scent of antiseptic still clings to my skin beneath the metallic tang of dried blood. I head straight to the shower, scrubbing until my knuckles sting, until the hot water runs cold, and I can almost pretend I’m clean again.

I dress slowly in the dark, tugging on soft jeans and a plain black dress shirt. When I emerge, my aunt is in the kitchen, making tea the way she always does when things feel too big to handle.

She turns at the sound of my footsteps, her eyes soft but her lips pursed, and I know she’s worried even if she doesn’tsay it. “Lucia’s in her room. She wouldn’t sleep. Said she was waiting for you.”

My throat tightens. I nod and head upstairs, each step heavier than the last.

I find her sitting on the floor by her bed, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, a stuffed rabbit clutched tight to her chest. Her eyes are puffy, her bottom lip wobbling the second she sees me.

“Papa,” she whispers, her voice so small it nearly breaks me in two.

I drop to my knees in front of her, and she launches into my arms without hesitation, burying her face in my shoulder.

“Cece’s not waking up, is she?” she says, her words muffled by my shirt. “Alessio said maybe… maybe she went to the fairies. Like Mama did.”

“No,” I say fiercely. I pull her back enough to look into her face and cup her damp cheeks with both hands. “No, tesoro. She didn’t go anywhere.”

“But Alessio?—”

“Alessio is scared,” I whisper. “Just like you. Just like me. But Francesca isn’t like Mama. She’s not leaving. She loves you too much.”

Lucia sniffles, blinking up at me. “You mean it?”

I nod, my thumb brushing away a tear. “I promise. She’s fighting to come back because she wants to be here. With you. With Alessio. With me.”

She leans her forehead against mine, her breath warm, her little hands clutching my sleeves. “I want to believe you.”

“You can,” I say, my voice breaking around the edges. “Because she’s your mermaid, remember? She protects us. That kind of love doesn’t die. It fights.”

Lucia nods solemnly, like she’s older than her years and understands in that way children do, the way that doesn’t need logic, only truth.

“She’s gonna wake up,” she whispers.

“Yes,” I whisper back, pressing a kiss to her temple. “She is.”

And this time, I let her see the tears in my eyes because tears aren’t weakness. They’re proof of love. Of life. Of how much she still matters.

I tuck Lucia into bed, her small body curled around the stuffed rabbit, eyes heavy but still flicking to the door, like she’s waiting for a miracle to walk through it.

“I’ll be back soon,” I whisper, brushing her hair from her face. “I’m going to sit with her for a while.”

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