Page 36 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

GIULIA

“ A re you coming?” Caterina asks in a soft voice.

I swallow around a throat that feels too raw and tight. “In a minute. Why don’t you go on without me? I’ll be there.”

“Oh. Okay.” There’s something in her voice, like she wants to say more. I tense, waiting for the condolences. I’m so sick of hearing them.

“We’ll be waiting,” she finally says.

I wait for her footsteps to fade before I let my shoulders drop, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to keep the grief inside where it belongs. It’s not just the grief, though—it’s the anger, the injustice, the horror of it all.

I’m standing by the window of the villa, staring out at the garden where Caterina and a few women are preparing for the funeral. I should be out there, helping, but I can’t bring myself to move.

I should feel relieved. Isabella lied—about the pregnancy, about Raffaele, about everything. But all I feel is exhaustion.

I want to hate Isabella, to let the anger carry me through the grief, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. Isabella is gone, and in her final moments, she had been nothing more than a scared, broken girl.

I glance down at my hands and shudder. I can still feel her blood on them, warm and sticky.

Since the dinner at Caterina’s house, every time I’ve tried to sleep, I see her tear-filled eyes—and then her mouth falls open, blood gushing out.

When I look around, I’m suddenly in the dark, drowning in a pool of her blood, my broken screams piercing the night.

Before I can get too lost in the dark memories, I hear the door open behind me, followed by the sound of footsteps.

I know who it is even without turning around. For far too many years of my life, I listened for those footsteps with a gradually dwindling hope, waiting for the day they’d walk toward me instead of past me.

“Giulia,” my father sighs as he steps up beside me.

“What are you doing here?” I fix my gaze out the window, still pretending to be concerned with Caterina and the other women setting up for the funeral. Again, I remind myself that I should be down there with them, but I can’t bring myself to be around anyone right now.

The only person who could possibly understand how I’m feeling left the house at dawn to continue the hunt for whoever’s responsible for taking our daughter. I know a part of it is that he’s running from the realization that Isa is gone. Maybe he didn’t love her, but they weren’t nothing, either.

“I heard about…” Papa trails off with another sigh. “I heard about what she did. What Isabella did.”

“She wasn’t just my cousin,” I tell him. “She was my best friend.”

It still feels so wrong to talk about her in the past tense, and I can’t help but wince as the words leave my mouth.

What kind of best friend was I, anyway? She stuck by me through so much, and I never thought to ask her what was really going on—if she’d fallen for Raffaele along the way.

Instead, I tried my best to avoid her and resented her for being in a position I once occupied.

“I still remember bringing her home to meet you,” he says. “She talked so fucking much, was excited about every single thing—I nearly dumped her in the middle of the highway.”

I turn to look at him, surprised by the thread of sadness in his voice.

He meets my gaze, making no attempt to hide the emotion in his eyes.

The man before me looks weathered, ancient, and tired, like someone who has seen far too much.

He’s always seemed like a giant, unstoppable and unyielding. But now, there’s a fragility about him.

My heart twinges in my chest.

“I didn’t think you’d take to her well.”

“And yet you dumped her on me to avoid spending time with me,” I scoff.

There’s a long beat of silence, and he searches my eyes for something I can’t name. I turn away after a moment, preferring to watch the women move around beneath me.

“She talked so much about getting married in Casa Bianca, about how the gorgeous landscape would be the perfect backdrop for a wedding,” I croak out, tears burning the back of my eyes. “And now she’s being buried here. It’s not fair.”

“She was just a child,” he tells me. “Foolish, reckless—but still a child.”

I lick my lips. “What she did—the lying—I hate her for it, even as she bled out in my arms. I don’t know if I can forgive her, and I can’t just overlook it because she’s gone now and I’m not supposed to fight with the dead, but…”

I look at him. “I think, in the end, she hated herself more. That’s why she confessed. This whole thing had to be eating at her so badly. How the hell did she manage to keep a bubbly attitude through it? Why did she do it?”

There are so many questions, and the only person who can give me the answers is about to be buried six feet under.

“I failed her just as much as I failed you.”

The admission startles me, and I whip my head to the side to stare at him in surprise. His mouth pulls up at one corner in a sad smile. “I’m man enough to admit that much.”

I glance out the window to see if pigs are flying—but alas, I’m only met with the sight of a clear sky.

“I read once that the true measure of a man is his ability to admit when he’s wrong,” he continues. “I haven’t been a man in a long time. I should have protected you, Giulia. Protected you from so much.”

“Papa, I?—”

“I can’t help but think how disappointed your mother would be,” he huffs. “There’s so much I regret. So, so much. When I heard about Isabella, I couldn’t help but think—what if it had been you?”

The tears I’ve been trying so hard to keep at bay start rolling down my cheeks.

“I don’t know if I can just forgive everything and pretend none of it happened. I’m still trying to forgive Isa—and you hurt me far more, and for much longer.”

“I didn’t come here expecting your forgiveness,” he says.

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I were you, either.

I just came to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for neglecting you, for putting everything else in my life above you.

I’ve spent so long fighting for the dead that I forgot who was alive and needed me to fight for them instead. ”

It’s the most words my father has said to me at once. That realization hits me like a freight train.

“I’ll go ahead with whatever you choose to do from here onward,” Papa says. “It’s your choice now, and I’ll respect and support whatever decisions you make.”

I stare at him, trying to detect any hint of a trick, but all I can see is sincerity shining in his eyes.

“You mean that?”

He nods. “Of course I do.”

I eye him carefully. “And what does that mean for Raffaele and me? Will you support us too?”

There’s no hesitation. “Giulia, whatever you choose now, I’ll stand by you through it.”

“You’re the one who arranged the marriage between him and Isa,” I point out accusingly.

“I did it for all the wrong reasons,” he sighs, shaking his head. “And maybe… a part of me didn’t want to lose her to this war. A part of me was desperate to end it too, so I willingly threw her into something I mistakenly thought she didn’t want any part of.”

He glances away.

“The clause for the Montanari and Gagliardi marriage between our families still stands—if that’s what you want, of course.”

“What about Edoardo?”

Papa’s jaw clenches momentarily at the mention of the name. “What about him?”

“What if he doesn’t go along with this?”

“You were going to elope with Raffaele,” he says. “Somehow, I didn’t think you’d be too concerned about a man stuck in a wheelchair.”

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I don’t even know what I want anymore.

There’s so much still unresolved. Noemi is still missing, and with every day that passes without a lead, I feel like more of a failure.

I don’t know who’s behind this—La Rete Rossi?

The Echelon Syndicate? Whoever it is, they’re playing their cards close. ”

My fingers curl into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “How are we supposed to be together when the whole world is on fire around us?”

He rests a hand on my shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. “Take your time, Giulia. Everything will still be waiting when this is over. From what I know now about that Gagliardi boy, he’s not going anywhere. Not without you.”

My eyes widen at that. I want to ask what he means, but I decide it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that—for the first time in decades—my father is standing beside me, remorseful and seemingly ready to do better. I don’t know if I can trust that. He’s manipulated me too many times before, and trusting him now might just be another mistake.

But I’m so damn tired of holding my shield up. I want people I can fall back on. I don’t want to do any of this alone. I want family. I want my daughter to come back to a home surrounded by people who love her.

Speaking of family…

I wipe my wet eyes with the back of my hand, and Papa pulls out a snowy white handkerchief, offering it to me. I take it gratefully and wipe my face.

When I’m done, I meet his gaze. “I have one request. To prove that you truly want to support me.”

“Anything,” he says without hesitation.

I take a deep breath. “You have to make your peace with Lucio.”

I see the argument rise in his throat, the refusal already forming. I tense, bracing for him to shatter the little hope he’s just begun to rebuild inside me. But then, he pauses and exhales slowly.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I swim across the Atlantic?”

I raise an unimpressed brow at him, and a small smile cracks through his grumpy expression.

“If it’ll make you happy, then fine. I’ll talk to Lucio.”

A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away as a smile breaks over my face, the weight on my shoulders lifting just a little. “Thank you.”

“Just be aware: I can try to make peace with him, but he may not want the same.”

That doesn’t matter to me. I’ll deal with my grandfather later. My legs move before my brain can catch up, and the next thing I know, I’m falling into my father’s arms, sobbing.

“It’s all right, Giulia. Everything will be all right.”

I thought I was past the age of needing to be comforted by my father, but turns out—there’s no age limit for that. This doesn’t erase the years of pain, the heartbreak, the resentment, or the betrayal. But it’s a beginning. A good one.

All that’s missing now is my daughter.

With the men no longer at each other’s throats—and the tension between Raffaele and me starting to settle—we can finally work together to find her. For the first time since this nightmare began, I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have three powerful men in my corner now.

“If you’re not the most perfect, loving grandfather to Noemi,” I warn, pulling away slightly, “I’ll never forgive you. I can deal with you messing me up, but I won’t let you do the same to her. Capisci ?”

My father nods. “Your mother would have been so proud of you. So would Valentina.”

A sob catches in my throat, and I’m pulled into his arms again. I cry until my chest aches and my throat is raw—and he never lets go.

It’s what I’ve always wanted.