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"Of course, I will honor the deal."

"You don't have to," I say. "I broke it. I told her when I said I wouldn't. You can keep the money, and you don't have to sell me the hotels.”

“What am I going to do with the hotels? They're yours. I don't want her to think that?—"

"You don't want me to sell you the hotels, do you?" He looks thoughtful. "You don't want her to think that this has anything to do with business."

"It started out as business, but you're right, I couldn't care less about business now. All I care about is her happiness and her feelings." I pause as there's another knock on the door.

"Is that you, Maria?"

"No, it's me, dad. I—" Elisabetta walks in, her face tear-stained. She looks at me in shock. "What are you doing here? You came to tell him that I know?"

I stare at her silently. I know that she hates me, and I understand why.

"I told him not to tell you." Her father sits up and gets out of bed. "I told him that the deal would be over."

"And he cares more about the deal than me? Yay, me!"

"I know that you love him, darling." He touches the side of her face, "And he loves you dearly."

"What?" She blinks rapidly. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not a fool, my love. I may be old, but I’m not an old fool. Have a seat,” he says sitting and patting the bed. “You, too. I think this is something you should both hear."

He stares at Elisabetta and then at me. "From the first time I met your mother, I loved her. I think it was like fate we were meant to be. Quite quickly, I realized that there was something just a little off about her at times. At first, I thought it was because she was fun-loving and maybe had too much to drink, but soon, she was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic and then further developments." He looks sad. "I thought that loving her and helping her and trying to get her on medication would be the best way to help her, but she didn't want to take the medication. She didn't think anything was wrong, and because I loved her, I enabled her. Then we had you, our beautiful darling girl." He grins. "You were the light of our lives."

Elisabetta doesn't say anything. "On the day you were born, I thought I couldn't have been any happier in that moment. But then things got scary for a bit, and your mother and I decided that it was best if she were not the primary caregiver of you. So, we concocted her death, and I remarried to make it seem more true and plausible. I thought your stepmother would be loving and caring to you?—"

“But unfortunately, she sucked," Elisabetta said. "But I guess I got Romeo out of the deal.”

"And he's been a good brother to you?"

"He has," she says. "But why couldn't you have told me when I was a teenager, at least given me the choice to meet her, to love her, to?—"

"Because sometimes there are burdens you don't want to put on your child. Mistakenly, I thought that maybe you were better off. I see now that I was wrong."

"It hurts, Dad, to know that Mom is alive and I've never met her. I want to meet her on one of her good days, please."

He nods. "I have to tell her, of course."

"You think she might not want to meet me?"

"She would love to meet you. You're her daughter," he says softly and strokes her hair. "I'm sorry that I haven't been around. I'm sorry for everything. I've been so focused on your mom that I let the business slip, and just everything has come crashing around me, and?—"

"It's okay, Dad." She touches him lightly on the shoulder. "I understand that you did it for love. It doesn't mean I'm not hurt and heartbroken, but I understand." She takes a deep breath. "I just feel like a piece of me has been missing all this time, and now I realize that it was hidden in plain sight all this time, and I just didn't know."

"I know." He nods. "And I'm sorry for that. Please forgive me, my darling."

"I forgive you. Dad," she says. “I forgive you.”

"And if you can forgive me, then what about—" He nods over to me.

Elisabetta's eyes flutter to me, and she looks at me, anger back on her face as she juts her chin out, stubborn as she is. "I can't forgive him. He never should have kept that from me."

"I'm sorry," I say. "Please."

"I don't care that you're sorry. You chose money and a business deal over me and my truth and my life, and?—"