Page 11 of Secret Passion

My mind raced through memories of my mother. Her warm hugs, her gentle voice singing me to sleep, her eyes brimming with love whenever she looked at me. She had been the center of my world, the calming presence in a life filled with chaos and danger. Losing her had left an emptiness inside me that I could never quite fill. Once she had died, my whole world changed. My father, who I remembered as stern but loving, became cold and heartless toward me. He only ever smiled for David, no matter what I did to outshine my brother.

When Nicholas returned, his face was etched with concern. He handed me the folder of photographs and several CDs and hesitated, as if unsure whether to say more. I took them from him, my hands shaking, and began to flip through the photos slowly.

Each image seemed to confirm what he had told me. There were pictures of my father and mother together, just minutes before her death. In one, my father appeared very angry. I couldn’t reconcile the man I had always thought loved my mother with the person I saw in these photos, and it tore at me like a thousand knives.

“Nicholas,” I said, my voice barely holding together, “he always told me he wasn’t there. That he wished he could’ve been there to save her. But these... these show otherwise.”

The realization that my father had been lying to me all these years hit me like a ton of bricks. I could feel the foundation of my world crumbling beneath me, and I struggled to hold on to some sense of reality.

Nicholas sat down next to me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, cara mia,” he said softly. “I know this must be difficult for you.”

I turned to look at him, my vision blurry with tears. “Why?” I croaked out. “Why would he do this? Why would he lie about something like this?”

Nicholas sighed, his expression pained. “Your father...he’s a complicated man. He does things for his own reasons and often doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

“He knew how much you loved your mother, and if he really killed her, he wouldn’t tell you. And I stress, cara mia, that’s a big if. So far the photos and videos on the CDs have been authenticated but they may not tell the whole story.”

How could I trust my father now, knowing he had lied to me about something so fundamental? And what did that lie mean for our family, for my entire life up until this point?

My heart felt heavy in my chest as I looked back at the photos in my hands. My mother’s smiling face stared back at me, and I wondered if she knew the truth about my father.

“Did she know?” I asked, barely able to get the words out.

“I don’t know for sure,” Nicholas replied honestly. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if she did.”

My mind raced with questions and emotions, but one stood out amongst them all. Grief. The grief of losing my mother all over again, this time knowing that her death could have been prevented.

“What do we do now?” I asked, feeling lost and unsure.

Nicholas hesitated before speaking again. “We wait until we know exactly what happened. Then you decide what happens next. We can face him together, we can go to the police with what we have, or we can do nothing. It’s up to you.”

My heart raced at the thought of facing my father with such damning information. But deep down, I knew it was something that needed to be done.

“Okay,” I said determinedly, wiping away my tears.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Nicholas asked cautiously.

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, I have to know the truth.”

Nicholas placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, his piercing blue eyes filled with concern. “That kind of lie points to Giovanni’s guilt, rather than his innocence,” he said softly. I knew he was trying to be honest with me, but his words only fueled the fire that had ignited within.

“Damn him!” I yelled, anger and frustration bubbling over. I grabbed a vase from the coffee table and hurled it at the wall, shattering it into pieces. The sound echoed through the room, mirroring the chaos in my heart.

“Damn him for lying to me all these years!” I continued, picking up a picture frame and hurling it at the fireplace, glass splintering around me like tiny shards of my broken trust. Tears flowed freely now, mixing with the angry red that clouded my vision.

“Damn him for making me doubt everything I’ve ever known!” My hands found another object to throw, but Nicholas caught my wrist gently, stopping the momentum.

“Enough, Liliana,” he said quietly, pulling me into his strong embrace. His warmth enveloped me as I sobbed into his chest, mourning the loss of the father I thought I’d known. Allowing myself to grieve for the mother I’d lost too soon.

“Shh, cara mia, let it out,” he said, stroking my hair tenderly.

My head rested against Nicholas’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat providing a small comfort amidst my turmoil. He held me close, one hand gently running through my hair, while the other firmly wrapped around my waist. His embrace was both tender and protective, as if he could shield me from the pain with the strength of his arms alone.

“Listen to me, Liliana,” he said softly, his voice resolute yet gentle. “Nothing has been proven yet. I promise you that I will find the truth about your father, whatever it may be. And no matter what we discover, I will always be here for you, every step of the way.”

His words were a balm to my wounded heart. But still, the gnawing uncertainty threatened to consume me. I pulled away slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

“The videos give a much more complete picture of your mother’s last few hours. They stop about ten minutes before the 9-1-1 call so we may never know what exactly happened.

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