Page 151 of The Don’s Omega

His voice is bitter as he continues. “I remember Domenico hugged me and said how sorry he was for my loss.”

“And I’m sure he meant that.”

He laughs bitterly. “Of course you would think that. But he didn’t just express empathy. No, he also whispered to me that Cristiano had known the risks. That he’d willingly taken the deal.”

“That’s all true,” Carlo growls.

Salvatore ignores Carlo. “Your father told me I should be proud of how brave my son was. He assured me his sacrifice wouldn’t be forgotten. Then he left me in my empty house and he went on living and my only son was in the ground.”

A lump forms in my throat as I listen. Even if I’m angry with Salvatore, there’s no denying his raw agony. “I can’t imagine the pain you went through. I even understand why you want to believe it’s my family’s fault that Cristiano died.”

Carlo’s laugh is harsh. “Yeah, only it isn’t the Foschini’s fault Cristiano died. This old fool needs to know that.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of kissing Marcello’s ass, Carlo?” Salvatore jeers. “You think he’d be any more loyal to you than he was to my family? You’re expendable, just like everyone else. We’re all just pawns for the Foschini syndicate.”

I shake my head, frustration rising. “You think you have it all figured out and yet you’re completely off the mark.”

“How so?” Salvatore snaps.

I move closer to him. “My father didn’t strong arm Cristiano into taking Adriano’s place in prison.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re wrong, but I guess you want to believe what you want to believe,” I grate out.

Salvatore curls his lip. “I believe it because it’s how it went down.”

“You’re wrong,” Carlo snarls. “A hundred percent wrong.”

“Yeah?” Salvatore’s eyes bug. “Then why did my son die in prison? Why was he in that hellhole instead of Adriano Foschini? Adriano was the one in trouble with the law, not my son. Domenico sacrificed my son instead of his own. Foschinis don’t care who they hurt or destroy so long as it’s not one of them.”

Carlo advances on Salvatore and grabs him by the front of his shirt. “You’re wrong on all counts. Cristiano wasn’t forced into anything. He volunteered to take Adriano’s place in prison, you fucking moron.”

“Carlo, be quiet,” I snap, but it’s too late.

Salvatore’s stiffens and he shoves Carlo away. “You’re lying,” he shouts, face flushed and eyes wide. “Domenico asked him to take Adriano’s place and he had no choice but to obey. He couldn’t say no.”

Carlo shakes his head. “No, I’m not lying. Cristiano approached Domenico first.”

“He never would have done anything that reckless,” Salvatore rasps, rising to his feet.

Carlo stares at him with pity. “You didn’t even know your own son. Cristiano wanted you to be proud of him.”

“I was proud of him,” Salvatore growls. “And there’s no way he would have offered to take Adriano’s place.”

“You’re wrong. Cristiano was desperate for your approval,” Carlo mutters. “You drilled it into him from the time he was a kid that the Marchettis were every bit as good as the Foschinis, but your family kept getting passed over. Cristiano wanted to do something big. Something that would bring honor to the Marchetti name and prove to you that he was a man worth respecting. The only thing the Foschinis did wrong was keep your son’s fucking secret all these years.”

“No. It’s a lie.”

“Ask your oldest daughter, Annetta,” Carlo says harshly. “She was dating Adriano at the time. She knows everything that happened. Ask her if you don’t believe me.”

“That’s enough, Carlo,” I growl.

Carlo winces and he stops talking.

I glance at Salvatore who’s staring at me. His face has lost all its color, and his eyes are wide. We stare at each other wordlessly for a few moments, then he sits down as if his legs have given out.

I sit in the chair across from him again, unsure what to feel. It’s hard not to pity Salvatore, even while I’m furious with him for touching Elio. My father had never wanted him to know what really happened, or why Cristiano went to prison instead of Adriano. He’d believed the truth would only cause his old friend more pain. Guilt. But after Cristiano died, Salvatore had apparently spent years blaming my family. Had keeping the truth from him made things better or only made them worse for Salvatore? I honestly have no idea.