Page 44 of Prideful Union
She didn’t even attend his funeral. Luca and I wanted to go because Franco was the only father figure we ever had, so Mom sent one of our bodyguards with us. None of my other siblings came.
I remember being so hurt by this. How could they hate Franco so much? I know he was a cold man, but at the time, when I was just a kid, it didn’t make sense. That was until I learned he tried to kill Antonio, and that was why Antonio had to kill him. Franco also poisoned Riccardo, the man I thought was my father.
It made sense why my siblings and mom didn’t want to go to Franco’s funeral.
But it still doesn’t make sense why Mom would sleep with him. She hated him.
Granted, I did just sleep with Santino, and I can’t stand him. So, maybe passion isn’t always logical.
I need answers, though.
So, I call my mom.
“Lucia,” she says in a happy tone. “I’m glad to hear from you. How have things been?”
“Um, Mom, I’m not here to talk to you about Santino. There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I can hear her breathing get faster. “All right. What do you need to talk to me about?”
“It’s Franco.”
“What about him?” Her voice is tight.
“Santino did a DNA test. Apparently … Franco is my real father.”
I’m waiting for her to deny it, but it never comes.
“Mom? Tell me isn’t true, right? I mean, you hated Franco. How could he be my father?”
She’s still silent.
“Mom, talk to me.” I clutch the phone tighter. “I need answers. Santino thinks you lied to him. He expected to marry the daughter of Riccardo Moretti, not … Franco Moretti. You always told me Riccardo was my father. Please. Tell me that’s true.”
She finally speaks. “I can’t.”
I suck in a quick breath. “What? What are you saying?”
“Honey, I don’t want to talk about this over the phone. I just … can’t.”
“Why lie to me about this?”
“Honey, please?—”
“You lied to me!” I shout into the phone. “You never told me he was my father. Why? Were you ashamed of sleeping with your dead husband’s brother? Did you regret me?”
“Lucia … I can’t.”
“No, you can. I deserve answers.”
“I know you do. I just need to have this conversation with you in person. Please wait for that. I know you have questions. I will answer them. I’m just … scared.”
“Why?”
“That you’ll hate me.” The pain in her voice is like a punch to my gut.
“Why would I hate you? I’m mad at you for lying to me. But I don’t hate you. I just need to know the truth.”
“And I will give it to you. I’ll visit you. And when I do, I’ll explain everything. Be patient until then. I know I’m asking for a lot,” she says. “But I’m asking you to trust me.”
