Page 103 of Broken Mafia Bride

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.