Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 142640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 713(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 475(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 713(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 475(@300wpm)
She stares at the photo and puts it down onto the counter. “No.”
“No what?”
“Lorenzo is not your father.”
My nostrils flare as I try to hold in the tears. “What do you mean? How could this photo….” Words fail me.
“This was taken at the public library; your father and I had split up for good and I was friends with Lorenzo. Not wanting to go alone, I asked Lorenzo to take me to an art show, when we got there we ran into Giuliano and Angelina.”
My heart drops as I stare at her.
“I saw them, not a second later a photographer asked us to stand together and smile, not wanting to cause a scene we did.”
“But….” My eyes well with tears.
“Sweetheart.” She cups my face in her hand. “Is this to do with Giuliano junior?”
I drop my head in sadness.
“You’re in love with him?”
My eyes rise to meet hers.
“I see the way you look at each other, I can feel the love between you. I know that you fell in love with each other before you knew who his father was. Why do you think that Enrico was so determined to keep you apart?”
I get a lump in my throat as I remember him going crazy when he found us together in the library all those years ago. “He knew?”
“Yes, he knew.” She nods. “I’m so sorry, darling. The truth is, your father was a womanizer and I loved him. Time and time again I fell for his charm and into his bed. I was pregnant with his child when he left me for her. Lorenzo is a dear man who picked up the pieces and saved me. Trust me, more than anything, I wish you were Lorenzo’s daughter. He doesn’t have any children of his own, he gave up that privilege to be with me. If I could have given him that gift it would have made my life complete.”
Her silhouette blurs as I stare at her.
She takes my hands in hers. “You cannot love Giuliano, sweetheart. He is your brother. You have to let him go.”
The tears break the dam and roll down my face. “I wanted it to be true,” I whisper.
She smiles sadly and wipes my tears. “Me too. I wish I could give you this.”
“But …I love him.” I whisper.
“I know. But there isn’t enough love in the world that can fix this problem. You need to let him go.”
* * *
I sit in my old bedroom of my mother’s house and cry and cry and cry.
All my hopes and dreams are shattered and I need to get it out before I face the guards…and him.
I imagine Giuliano’s face when I tell him and I cry harder.
He deserves a happy ending and damn it, I wanted to be the one who gave it to him.
But Mother’s right.
There is no easy way around this.
We can play pretend in each other’s arms all we want, but it will never fix this problem.
If I want him to be happy, really happy. He needs to have children of his own to carry on the Ferrara name, and I know that…I need to let him go, he needs to move on and meet someone that can give him a family life, the one that he deserves.
I get into the shower in my bathroom and slide down the tiles to sit on the floor under the hot water.
Once I pull myself together, I’ll go home and pull my world apart.
Again.
Three hours later, I open the door to my apartment and I can immediately feel that Giuliano is here.
His presence is overwhelming and as I turn the corner he rushes me. “What did she say?”
I put my keys onto the side table and turn toward him. “You were wrong.” I shrug, “It was….” I pause. “It happened just as Lorenzo explained.”
“Bullshit.”
I throw my hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“You’re sorry?” He frowns. “What does that mean?”
“It means I know how much you want this to be true.”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes…and no.”
“No?” he snaps. “Why, no?”
“Unlike you, Giuliano, I loved my father, the thought that I wasn’t his….” My voice trails off.
“Wasn’t what?” he barks. “Worth it?”
I brush past him and walk into the kitchen, he follows me like the Hulk.
“What did she say?” he demands.
“That Lorenzo and she were friends and she went to the art gallery with him and Dad was there with your mother and throwing it in her face.”
He narrows his eyes. “And you believed her?”
“My mother wouldn’t lie to me,” I snap.
“She was not angry in that photo, I saw it with my own eyes and she lied to you your whole fucking life, Francesca,” he yells. “Did you know about me?” He hits his chest. “Did you know that Daddy dearest was giving it to another woman every day? Did you know he had another family? Did you know he was a murdering fucking prick?”