Page 13 of Until It Ends

Just as I'm lost in my thoughts, startled by a knock on the door, I turn to face it. It's one of the housemaids, the same one who had brought me some clothes earlier. She asks if I'm dressed and ready, and informs me that Mr. Cipriano is waiting outside the hallway and wishes to come in. I hesitate for a moment, my mind racing with possibilities, but eventually, I nod.

"Yes, I'm ready," I reply, my voice steady but filled with a hint of caution.

The maid gives me a polite smile and opens the door, allowing Polo to enter.

As he steps into the room, a mix of curiosity and wariness fills my gaze.

I couldn't help but admire his crisp white polo that was so crisp it had the appearance of having been ironed, and that was lined with thin navy stripes at the collar and sleeves. His salt and pepper hair reminds me of Marcos'. Both brothers were similar in looks and stature, taking after their own father who used to be a lieutenant for the same mob. He was strongly built, with broad shoulders and thick wrists. His brooding eyes reminded her of the darkness in the woods at night.

Polo's eyes meet mine, his expression unreadable. "Valeria," he says, his voice tinged with a combination of formality and intrigue.

"Is it true?"

The question bursts from my lips as if I'm flinging open a door to a dark secret. His eyes glimmer with an inner knowledge, and he smiles knowingly. "Yes," he says softly, staring into me so deeply that it's like he can see the hidden chambers of my heart. I bite my lip nervously, wondering just what truths he has uncovered.

"I hope you're settling in well," he says, "I've been hoping for this meeting for a very, very long time. I have a few personal matters to discuss with you. Shall we?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the challenges ahead. "Yes," I respond, my tone measured. "I'm ready to hear what you have to say about all of this."

Twelve

Valeria

The ambiance in the outdoor eating area is surprisingly stifling as I sit across from Polo. The ambiance in the outdoor eating area is surprisingly stifling. I sit across from Polo and cannot decide if it's my mounting suspicions or my own nerves that are causing me to feel a little out of sorts.

"The dinner looks nice," I say, "But I'm not hungry and I'm not in the mood for beating around the bush. I want explanations now. I want to know why I was never informed."

Polo, calm and composed, takes a sip of wine before locking eyes with me. He seems surprised at my frankness. "Well....if you say so."

"It all seems too good to be true," I say.

"I understand your doubts, but I assure you, I am your father. I can prove it to you."

My mind whirls with a flood of questions and emotions. I want answers, I want to uncover the truth that has been hidden from me for so long. Yet, a part of me remains cautious, wary of falling into another web of deceit.

"You expect me to believe you just like that?" My voice trembles. "How can I trust anyone in this twisted game you've all played?"

Polo puts down his fork and lifts his linen napkin off his lap and places it on the table. "Valeria, I need you to understand something crucial. You were never meant to be Marco's bargaining chip. You were never meant to be sold. I can't erase the lies that have been woven around you, but I can offer you the truth."

I narrow my eyes as I study Polo's face, searching for any signs of deception. I want to believe him, but I can't let my guard down so easily.

"Prove it then," I demand, my voice laced with a hint of defiance. "Show me something concrete, something that can't be denied."

Polo nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I expected this, Valeria. That's why I've come prepared."

"What are you saying?" I whisper, my voice trembling.

Polo leans forward, his expression earnest. "You can take my word for it, or we can undergo a DNA test to prove it conclusively. But believe me when I say, I know my own blood. I see myself in you, Valeria. My only regret is that I didn't end it sooner...that I didn't come for you sooner."

Tears well up in my eyes as a rush of conflicting emotions washes over me. I wish I could hold back my emotions but I can't. The truth I yearned for is both liberating and overwhelming.

"So, what you're telling me is that my entire life has been a lie?" My voice trembles with a mixture of anger, sadness, and confusion.

"Unfortunately yes. We had a long history with your mother before he forced her into marriage."

"Forced?" I shake my head. "My mother never told me she was forced."

"Would she though? Would she tell you the story of how she loved two brothers and then decided to pick one over the other?"

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