Page 72 of Broken Mafia Bride

In that moment, I loathe them.

Why did I think this time would be any different? That something would finally matter to my father more than the deep hatred that consumes him? Why did I think he’d suddenly become the kind of man who accepts that maybe he’s just as responsible for how his life turned out?

I rise to my feet too fast, and my seat goes clattering to the floor. The two men snap their heads to me, blinking like they forgot I was here. I should be used to feeling like this, but somehow, it still hurts.

The tears well up, fast and unbidden.

“For the first time in a long time, I needed your help,” I tell my father. “I needed you to swoop in and save me for once in my life. But look at you. Look at both of you!”

Papa flinches and tries to speak, but I’m far from done. “My child is out there, taken by some sick bastards, and I have no idea what’s being done to her. I have no idea if she’s even—” I choke on a sob, unable to admit, even to myself, that she might really be gone.

“The past happened,” I tell them. “And I know it hurts—you both lost someone important, a daughter and a wife. But so did I. I lost my mother and my sister.

Maybe if you two had gotten your shit together, they’d still be alive.”

“Child—”

“Don’t call me that!” I snap at Lucio, tears streaming down my face. “It’s too late to get Mama and Val back, but it’s not too late to save Noemi. It’s not too late for both of you to get your heads out of your asses, put your stupid hatred aside for a second, andfor oncedo something that isn’t all about your egos.”

My eyes catch Raffaele’s again, and he looks wrecked, tired. Even though he hasn’t met her yet, I know losing our daughter is hurting him deeply. I know he feels the helplessness, the desperation, and the fear. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for him.

From going out of his mind searching for me to searching for his daughter. He hasn’t caught a break in four years, and I can’t help the guilt I feel over it.

“If something happens to my daughter while you two are busy bickering over who destroyed whose life,” I tell them, “I’ll never forgive you. Never.”

“Giulia—”

I don’t stick around to hear the rest of what my father has to say. I’ve heard enough of his bullshit for one lifetime. I turn on my heels and march out, feeling more hopeless than ever.

22

RAFFAELE

“Iused to think my father was the most despicable excuse for a parent,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence left in Giulia’s wake. “But now I see I gave him too much credit. You two have him beat. You wear your disgrace like it’s some fucking badge of honor,” I sneer.

The two men snap their gazes toward me.

“Excuse me?” Enrico growls.

“You heard me,” I shoot back, well past caring if I might be inciting another war. “At least my father is trying to turn me into his mini-me. And you know what? Even that bastard wouldn’t have just sat around sulking if I went missing. He doesn’t give a damn about me—don’t get me wrong—but he cares about his legacy enough not to let me be the one to ruin it.”

“I care about Giulia,” Enrico snaps. “You think you know everything, but?—”

“I’ve never claimed to know everything,” I say coldly. “The only thing I do know for sure is that Giulia is hurting, and you two idiots—who are supposed to be helping—are too busy bickering like fishwives.”

“How dare you come into my house and insult me?” Lucio’s voice is glacial, each word edged with warning. If I weren’t so furious after seeing Giulia cry, my sense of self-preservation might’ve kicked in and made me back off.

But I’m this close to throwing a fist in both their faces.

I expected it from Enrico—he’s always been a self-absorbed bastard. But I really thought Lucio Sanna was different. Turns out, he’s just another man stuck in the past, too blind to see beyond it. If they’d both just open their damn eyes, they’d realize they lost something once, and fate is offering them another chance.

A chance they don’t deserve.

“Are you going to throw me out or shoot me?” I meet his gaze, daring him. His eyes narrow, but he says nothing.

A dry, humorless laugh escapes me. I glance at Enrico. “You’re about to lose your granddaughter before you even meet her—and still, all you care about is chasing ghosts and fighting battles that ended years ago.”

Then I turn to Lucio. “And you’re going to lose your great-granddaughter because you’re too busy treating her like some consolation prize for what you’ve lost.”