Chapter 6 - The Letter My Father Never Sent
We found my father’s missing correspondence in the last place Carlo would have expected.
Not a bank.
Not a safe.
Not an attorney’s office.
Inside an old Christmas music box my mother kept in the chapel.
Victoria remembered Lorenzo placing papers beneath the false bottom years earlier. She had assumed they were sentimental letters and never looked.
Enzo lifted the wooden panel.
Six envelopes.
My name appeared on three.
Sophia's on one.
Victoria’s on one.
The final envelope read:
FOR MY GRANDCHILD.
Lily.
I sat in the chapel with Sophia beside me.
Snow continued falling outside the stained-glass windows.
For years, I had believed my father died confident in everything he built.
The first letter destroyed that illusion.
Dominic,
If you are reading this because I finally became brave enough to give it to you, then perhaps I am not as hopeless as your mother thinks. If you are reading it after I am dead, then I was.
I almost smiled.
That sounded like Lorenzo.
Then:
I drove Sophia away because I was afraid she would give you something stronger than loyalty to me. A life you could choose.
My throat tightened.
Sophia took my hand.
I told myself I was protecting you from weakness. The truth is I was protecting my control.
I stopped.
The words were too close to things I had told myself in business.
When I learned she was pregnant, I considered taking the child. I need you to know this because pretending I was better than I was would be another insult. Your mother stopped me. If you forgive her nothing else, forgive her that.
I looked toward Victoria outside the chapel.
She had saved Lily.
Even while stealing years from us.
Two truths could coexist.
I continued.
Carlo knows about the child. That is my fault. I trusted him to administer funds after Vittorio threatened challenges. I later discovered Carlo was stealing from family ventures and hiding debts. I began collecting evidence.
My heart accelerated.
Evidence.
The missing file.
Marcus Vale works for Carlo before he works for us. Do not trust him.
Four years too late.
Then:
If Carlo discovers the trust clause, he will try to keep the child unrecognized until he secures marriage ties with you.
Everything had been predicted.
My father knew exactly how Carlo thought because they were more alike than either wanted to admit.
The next paragraph stopped me.
If Sophia ever believes you abandoned her, understand that I helped create that belief. I told Carlo where she had been relocated when I asked him to secure the trust. I fear he may interfere.
Sophia closed her eyes.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo suspected Carlo would intercept us.
But he died before fixing it.
Cowardice and regret again.
I opened Sophia's envelope.
She hesitated.
“You should.”
“It’s yours.”
“I want you there.”
So I read aloud.
Sophia,
You have every reason to hate my name. I hope you do not teach the child to hate herself for sharing its blood. Dominic is better than I allowed him to become around me. If you ever give him the chance to prove it, judge him by what he chooses when nobody older than him is left to blame.
Sophia cried silently.
Then laughed.
“He was still arrogant.”
“Very.”
“He assumes I would give you a chance.”
“I noticed.”
She leaned her head briefly against my shoulder.
The gesture almost hurt.
We had been apart four years.
No letter could restore that.
I opened the envelope for Lily.
I did not read it.
Not yet.
“That belongs to her.”
Sophia nodded.
“When she's older.”
“Yes.”
We sat quietly.
Then Sophia said:
“I need to tell you something.”
I looked at her.
“I don't know if I can be with you again.”
The sentence hurt.
I forced myself not to react.
“Okay.”
She blinked.
“Okay?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I expected you to argue.”
“I’ve had enough men in this family deciding what women should do because they think their feelings are important.”
Sophia smiled through tears.
“That sounds new.”
“It is.”
She looked down.
“I still love part of you.”
My breathing changed.
“Part?”
“The man I knew.”
“And the man now?”
“I don't know him.”
Fair.
“I want you to know him before you decide.”
She stared.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“No pressure.”
“No.”
“No mansion as leverage.”
“No.”
“No using Lily to keep me near you.”
“Never.”
She nodded slowly.
“Then maybe.”
One word.
It was enough.
At noon, the paternity test arrived.
Sophia had agreed to a rapid legal DNA collection.
Probability of paternity:
99.99%.
I stared at the result.
My daughter.
Not possibility.
Not resemblance.
Not inheritance.
My daughter.
When we told Lily, we kept it simple.
Sophia sat with her near the Christmas tree after the guests were long gone.
“Remember Mr. Dominic?”
Lily nodded.
“Boss.”
I winced.
Sophia smiled.
“He's more than that.”
Lily looked at me.
“What?”
Sophia’s voice trembled.
“He's your daddy.”
Lily stared.
The world stopped.
She looked at me for a very long time.
Then:
“Where you been?”
No adult question could have hurt more.
I crouched.
“I didn't know where you were.”
“Why?”
“Grown-ups made mistakes.”
She considered.
“You make mistakes?”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
Sophia laughed softly.
“Yes,” I admitted.
Lily walked toward me.
I did not move.
She touched my cheek.
Then asked:
“You stay now?”
My vision blurred.
“If you want me.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
Then she hugged me.
Three-year-olds apparently solved emotional crises more efficiently than adults.
I held her carefully.
Sophia cried.
My mother watched from the doorway.
Then a phone rang.
Enzo.
I almost ignored it.
Almost.
He answered.
His expression hardened.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“Isabella never made it home.”
The warmth disappeared.
“What do you mean?”
“Her car was found near the expressway.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone.”
Sophia looked at me.
Then Enzo added:
“Police found her phone.”
One unsent message remained on the screen.
My father knows I gave Dominic the files.
May you like
Carlo had taken his own daughter.
And now there was no question what he was capable of doing to mine.
