Chapter 2
Sophia glanced down.
“Elena.”
My throat closed.
“My mother’s name.”
“Yes.”
I took one slow breath.
“Can I hold her?”
Sophia didn’t answer immediately.
That hesitation hurt more than if she had said no.
But I understood it.
She studied me for several seconds.
Then she carefully crossed the room.
“Support her head.”
I nearly laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because Sophia had told me the same thing years ago when she made me hold her cousin’s baby at a baptism.
I had been terrified of dropping him.
Now I was terrified of everything.
She placed Elena in my arms.
My daughter weighed almost nothing.
I had held weapons that felt heavier.
Suitcases full of money.
Men’s lives.
Entire companies.
But nothing had ever made my hands tremble like the small sleeping child against my chest.
Her nose was Sophia’s.
Her mouth—
My mouth.
I stared at her.
“Hello,” I whispered.
Elena shifted slightly.
I swallowed.
“I’m your father.”
Sophia looked away.
I felt that.
Of course I did.
Being Elena’s father biologically did not mean I had earned the right to say it with certainty.
Not yet.
Maybe not for a long time.
I lifted my eyes to Sophia.
“What happened?”
She hugged herself.
The nurse moved toward the door.
“I’m going to speak with security. I’ll have them lock this floor.”
I nodded.
Sophia immediately said, “Don’t tell anyone Dominic is here.”
The nurse understood.
“I won’t.”
When she left, silence settled between us.
I sat in the chair by the window, holding Elena.
Sophia remained standing.
As if she needed distance.
I deserved that too.
I looked at the message again.
“Is Luca alive?”
“Yes.”
The answer landed softly.
Almost gently.
And still it changed the shape of my entire life.
“How long have you known?”
“Since July.”
My eyes snapped toward her.
“The day you disappeared?”
“The day before.”
I stared at her.
“Start at the beginning.”
Sophia’s expression hardened slightly.
“That’s what I tried to do four months ago.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The truth I had been avoiding since opening her letter.
I tried to tell you, but you chose to believe him.
“I know,” I said.
“No, Dom. You know the words. That isn’t the same thing.”
I opened my eyes again.
She was looking at me now.
Really looking at me.
For years, people had lowered their voices around me. Chosen their words carefully. Watched my expression before deciding how much truth I was willing to hear.