At the end of the day, this is all my fault. All my mistakes laid bare.
“What does that mean?”
“Mila’s father is a Vitale, mama,” I finally confess. “He’s a part of one of the biggest mafia organizations in the city. That’s why I ran away the first time.”
She already knew that. Guessed it. But her eyes shutter with pain nonetheless.
“He found me again and then his family used my existence against Ignacio. I’ve been with the Vitales all this while but yesterday they handed me over to my father.”
The last two words still feel foreign anytime they leave my lips. But I have a feeling Ignacio won’t be so patient and amiable if I insist on continuing to call him sir. I need to get used to it.
To the fact that I have a new family. And that I have a father as well.
“Your father?” my mother scoffs. “That man has contributed nothing to your life, you hear me, Liliana. Absolutely nothing!”
“That’s not his fault,” I state
Pain flashes across her face.
“So you think I did wrong? That I was wrong to have taken you away, hidden you and protected you?”
I shake my head, “No, mama. You did the right thing. I know that. I understand better than anyone why you made the choices you made. You were just trying to keep me safe. Ignacio understands too.”
My mother smiles sardonically, “You sound as if you trust that man, Liliana.”
“I don’t.”
That’s certainly the truth. But a part of me is holding out hope that my instincts concerning him are wrong. My mother nods satisfied with that reply.
“What is going to happen now?”
“We’re going to leave here and return to the city. And we’re going to try and be a family.”
“We?”
“Yes. You, me, Mila. I think we’ll be safe with Ignacio. He has promised that he means you no harm and from what I’ve been able to glean he wouldn’t hurt his flesh and blood.”
“You’re being naïve. Ignacio is a dangerous man. If you think we will be safe with him, then I wonder if I raised you to be smart at all.”
The words crack like a whip.
“What do you want me to do, mother!” my voice rises. “I didn’t have much choice. It was either I went with him or Rafaelle. And I would have chosen Rafaelle in a heartbeat! But I can’t very well be with him after hurting him so much by keeping his daughter away from him.”
She cocks her head to the sight, observing my outburst.
“Rafaelle is Mila’s father?”
I don’t reply but my silence is answer enough. She exhales heavily.
"You care about him."
I still don't answer. Because if I do, I really will start crying. How could I even begin to explain what I feel for Rafaelle?
I always thought there were holes in his heart, waiting to be filled. But now that he’s so far out of my reach, I feel like there are screws puncturing my heart, trying to match the state of his.
My mother studies me. Then Mila. Then the armed men outside. And suddenly she looks tired.
Heartbreak in her expression.
