He pauses, choosing words carefully. "Are you happy?"
Here it is.
My heart rate picks up. I hold his eyes.
"Yes," I say. "Papa, I love him."
His face goes very still.
"I know that's not what you want to hear," I continue before he can speak. "I know this is complicated and it's messy, and none of it makes sense on paper. But I love him. Genuinely. He—" I stop, thinking about how to make him understand, how to compress everything the last few months have been into something my father can hold. "He sees me. He actually sees me.Not Don Luca's daughter. Not a problem to be managed. Just me."
My father is quiet, watching my face.
"I'm begging you," I say softly. "Please be okay with this. I need you in my life, and I need him in my life, and I can't keep them in separate rooms, I can't do that, I don't have enough of myself left to—"
"I want to be sure you're happy," he says gruffly. "Before I put a bullet in his brain."
"Papa—"
"He fucking deserves to die."
"Not while I'm alive." My voice comes out steady. Surprising both of us slightly. "That will not happen while I'm alive, do you understand me? You will not touch him, or you will go through me first."
My father stares at me.
"He is the father of your grandchild," I say quietly. "He is the man I love. And whatever history is between the two of you, whatever you feel, you do not get to make that decision."
Silence stretches between us.
Then, slowly, something shifts in my father's face. The jaw unclenches by a fraction. His eyes move over mine like he's reading something written there, and whatever he finds seems to change the calculation he's been running.
"You really love him?”
"With everything I have."
He exhales. Long and slow, like he's been holding it for months.
"I was there," he says finally. "During the attack. I saw him—" He stops, jaw tightening. "He took three bullets, Aurora. Three. And he was still on his feet. Still fighting." Something complicated moves across his face. "The second shot took him to one knee, and he got back up. I've seen men in this life for forty years. Men who are supposed to be hard." He shakes his head slowly. "I've never seen anything like that."
My throat closes.
I know,I think.I was there. I watched every second of it.
"He wasn't protecting his empire," my father says quietly. "He wasn't protecting his territory or his men or his pride." He looks at me. "Every single thing that man did on that ground, he did facing you. Keeping himself between you and every gun pointed in your direction."
I press my hand flat against my sternum and breathe.
"He needs to talk to me," my father says. "Axel and I need to sit down. There are things between us that have to be said before I can give you what you're asking for." His eyes meet mine, direct and serious. "But I'm not making any decisions until after that conversation."
It's not yes. But it's not no.
It's the most I'm going to get right now, and I know it.
I step forward and wrap my arms around him again, less desperate this time, just steady. His arms come around me, and he presses a kiss to the top of my head, the way he's done since before I could remember.
"My little princess," he murmurs into my hair.
"Hi Papa," I whisper back.
