Chapter 9: The Sister
“Maria told you about Sophia,” he said.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s all right.”
He turned to face her.
His expression softer than she’d ever seen it.
“Maria has been with my family since before I was born. She loves me in her way. And she’s trying to help you understand me.”
He settled on the sofa.
Gesturing for her to join him.
“What was she like? Your sister?”
A genuine smile touched his lips.
Warming his usually hard eyes.
“Stubborn. Brilliant. Fearless. Even at twelve. Even when she was so sick she could barely stand. She had more courage than most grown men I’ve known.”
He swirled his wine.
His gaze distant with memory.
“She wanted to be a doctor. Used to make me play hospital with her. Bandaging imaginary wounds. Prescribing treatments that usually involved cookies.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She was.”
His expression darkened.
“When she got sick, my father… he couldn’t handle it. Threw himself into his work. His other women. His drinking. Left my mother and me to deal with it alone.”
Anger flashed in his eyes.
Old but still potent.
“I swore then that I would never be that kind of man. That I would never abandon the people who depended on me. No matter how difficult things became.”
“Is that why you reacted so strongly to Marco?”
She asked softly.
“Because he abandoned us?”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Partly. Men who run from their responsibilities.” He shook his head in disgust.
“But it was more than that. When I learned he was planning to use you and Lily against me… to put you both in danger for his own benefit…”
He met her eyes.
“There are few offenses I consider unforgivable.”
“That is one of them.”
I hesitated, then asked the question that had been bothering me.
“The beating, though. Was that really necessary?”
Dante studied me, perhaps measuring how honest he should be.
“In my world, yes,” he said finally.
“Warnings must have consequences or they become meaningless. Marco knew the rules when he approached you at the grocery store. He made his choice.”
I flinched slightly at the coldness in his tone.
So at odds with the gentle man who had carried my sleeping daughter to bed.
Dante noticed my reaction and sighed, setting his wine glass down.
“This is the reality, Elliana. I am not a good man by conventional standards. I’ve done things, ordered things done that would horrify you. I’ve built my power through fear and violence because that was the world I was raised in. The only path I knew.”
“Until now,” I said quietly.
“Until this legitimization you mentioned.”
He nodded, his expression serious.
“Until now.”
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