Page 57 of A Touch of Fate

“Then let today be the last day you ever touch alcohol. You need to stop. No exceptions, not even at social functions or meetings with other Underbosses. No exemptions at all. You’re an alcoholic, and you can’t control it.

I don’t want a single drop of alcohol in our house.

I love you, Samuel. I love you so much, but that won’t stop me this time.

” Tears blurred my vision. “I won’t watch alcohol destroy the man that I love.

I won’t stand by and allow it to hurt our baby.

And I won’t be lied to or allow you to endanger me because you think you can control your addiction.

I have fought too hard for this life to allow anyone to destroy it. Not even the man I love.”

“Emma, I swear on everything I hold dear that I won’t drink ever again.

You’re right.” He swallowed hard. “I’m not in control of this.

” He let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I was too strong to become an alcoholic. But I’m not.

I don’t fucking care if everyone finds out about my weakness as long as that means I can keep you. ”

“You’re not weak for admitting you have a problem. You’re taking back control of your life. Fighting your addiction will be the hardest fight of your life, but it’ll make you the strongest version of yourself that you’ve ever been.”

Samuel pushed up to his feet and touched my cheeks. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, and part of me wanted him to, but I knew I needed to keep a certain distance until Samuel made good on his words.

“You can’t win this fight alone.”

“I have you, right? You have fought so many battles and won. You are all I need.”

I touched his cheek. “I’ll be by your side every step of the way, but it’s not enough.”

“You’re right. I’ll ask my father for help.”

I gave him a small smile. “You can do it. I believe in you.”

“For you, I will succeed.”

Emma was supposed to spend the remainder of the night in the hospital to make sure she was okay. Danilo stayed with her. I didn’t like it, but Emma had made it clear that she needed some time to herself. I had fucked up.

If Emma or the baby had gotten seriously hurt, I would have never forgiven myself. Losing my friends would have been nothing in comparison. My pride had almost hurt the person I loved the most.

Dad kept glancing at me on our way home.

Emma had asked me to spend the night with my parents so they could make sure I didn’t drink.

Right this moment, I was still too furious at myself to drink, but I wasn’t sure how long that would last. I couldn’t deny my problem anymore.

I had lied to myself and to Emma for far too long.

Exhaustion caught up with me. It was three in the morning, and I hadn’t slept more than fifteen minutes, but I knew I wouldn’t find peaceful sleep tonight.

“In only two weeks, you’ll take over from me.”

“That won’t change. My ability to do what’s required for the Outfit hasn’t suffered, and it won’t. I won’t admit to my problem in public. I only want the closest family to know. I need to appear strong.”

Dad nodded. “We’ll handle the situation as a family even though I wish we didn’t have to tell your mother. She’ll be worried sick.”

Guilt filled me. Mom had had enough reason to worry over the years. I hated to cause her additional turmoil.

I really didn’t want to see Mom’s reaction to the news—the shock, disappointment, worry, and sadness—but I knew I had to face this problem head-on. I’d ignored it for too long. I wasn’t a fucking coward.

“We have to tell her. I don’t want any more secrets. This problem won’t go away by itself.”

Dad sighed. “You’re right. Your mother is strong, and she’ll turn on her mother-bear mode once she hears about your struggles.”

My struggles. Even now, thinking about alcohol as that made me feel like a pussy. I should have been stronger than the addiction, but I wasn’t.

Mom was still awake when we came home. She wrapped me in a hug, checking the cut on my forehead that I still hadn’t let anyone treat. “How’s Emma?”

“She’s okay, but it could have been far worse.”

“What happened?” Mom asked.

“I lost control of the car,” I said. “I drank too much.”

Mom’s eyes widened. “Samuel! How could you? You know what happened to Emma. And what about the baby?”

“I know, Mom, trust me. I know I messed up, and it won’t happen again.”

Mom shook her head, her concerned eyes locked on mine. I could see the questions in them, questions she didn’t dare ask.

“I’ll have to grab something from the car,” Dad said. I had a feeling he needed a smoke. Maybe I should have picked cigarettes instead of booze to deal with my problems, but it had never been a conscious choice on my part. Addiction had crept up on me like a stealthy enemy I had never seen coming.

Once Dad was outside, I let out a sigh, wondering how to say what I needed to say. “It’s not the first time I was really drunk. I drink a lot. More than I should. More than I can handle. I’m not in control and haven’t been in a while.”

Mom listened with a pained look on her face, but she didn’t seem surprised by my words.

The words I needed to say stuck like glue in my throat, but I spat them out.

“I’m an alcoholic.” Fuck, that admission was a punch in the gut.

An addict. Being an addict felt like something that happened in dark alleys to people who had no future and no choices.

Not to someone like me. Maybe that misconception made alcohol such a dangerous adversary.

Mom pulled me into a hug. I patted her back lightly. “It’s going to be okay, Mom. I’ll deal with it now. I won’t risk losing Emma over this.”

Mom pulled back, tears in her eyes. “I know you’ll beat this. We’ll help you.”

Dad came back in with a cautious look, and Mom narrowed her eyes at him when he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Maybe you too could try to give up on your addiction?”

Dad gave a terse nod. He smelled of smoke. He kissed Mom’s cheek. “Go to bed. It’s late. I’ll take care of Samuel’s wound.”

Mom reluctantly moved upstairs, and I followed Dad into his office, where he kept a first-aid kit.

My eyes landed on the array of liquor bottles in the cabinet.

Usually, I would have had a drink before getting stitched up.

A voice in my head told me that one last sip wouldn’t hurt anyone, but I ignored it.

Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “Will this be a problem?”

I shook my head. “No. Not yet at least.”

Dad nodded slowly as he took out the strips to fix my cut. “Would an enemy be able to tempt you with alcohol under torture?”

“No,” I said firmly. I wasn’t sure of many things right now, but I wouldn’t break under torture because they waved a bottle of wine in front of me.

Dad nodded. “I’m still Underboss for the next two weeks, and I’ll keep a close eye on you to make sure you prove to Emma that you’re serious about becoming sober.”

Becoming sober. I hated how that sounded. But it was the reality of the situation. Fuck .