Page 34 of Fractured Empire

Instead of dreaming of my ideal reality where I got to see the world before my death, I dreamed that I would die before she could force me into the marriage that would give her everything she’s been wishing for. I thought it would be unfair and rotten for her to get everything she’s ever wanted while I lived a lie for her. She didn’t feel guilty, not at all. She blamed me, even. Said it was my fault that I had to lie to a future family about my condition, since I didn’t get it from her. I didn’t get it from anyone, even. My disease was caused by a new mutation during conception—making me the first of the family to have it.

An inherited lethal disease that I inherited from no one.

How fucked up is that?

It’s rare, so rare that they aren’t sure if it’s 1, 2, or 3 percent of cases.

But enough about that. This letter isn’t about how awful my parents were, or how poor ole me won the gold medal in shitty genetic mutations. This letter is about us, or really the lack of us. You’ve known about my death sentence for a few weeks now, and I’ve never seen you so frazzled. Your hair is a mess, and your suits are wrinkly, and you have circles under your eyes like you aren’t sleeping well. Honestly, it’s disturbing to see the Moretti golden boy so…frayed.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your heart was breaking. But we both know it isn’t, not for me. You’re worried about our boys, and I can’t blame you. I worry about them too, more than anything as you well know. It’s odd, thinking about the fact that I never wanted to be a mother, and it turned out to be my favorite thing about being alive. I love Bastian and Leo with all my heart, and they’re the only people I’ve ever felt pure, undying love for. I would do anything for them, and if I could live for them, I would.

But I can’t.

I’m going to die, and you’re going to adjust.

Did you know that I used to have a crush on your father?

Odd thing to bring up, I know. But I promise, I’m getting somewhere with it.

Dante Moretti, every young woman in our world had heard of the man. Handsome, powerful, rich, and above all, kind. Oh, don’t get me wrong, there were tales of his ruthlessness, especially when paired with his brother. He could make a man regret ever taking their first breath, but he also never hid his moral compass. He cared for women, and so a part of me wished my parents aimed higher than his Underboss son.

Maybe I resented you, at first, for being my match when your father would have changed my life for the better. He wouldn’t want or need any children from me, and I doubt he would want to fall in love with me, given my age. I think I would have told him about my condition as soon as we were married. He would have given me money and protection to enjoy the final years of my life. Sending me to beautiful places all around the globe, and making sure I take my medicine in the meantime.

I almost told him before marrying you, you know? He was alone in my parents’ house, drinking at our bar while waiting for paperwork to be finalized, and I almost ran up to him and confessed everything. I almost begged him to take me away from there and to let me live in peace before it was too late.

I didn’t, of course.

I can say all I like that perhaps I would have told him if we were matched, but maybe I wouldn’t have been brave enough. It’s difficult to speak up when you’ve spent a decade having your voice smothered out.

Maybe I just spent too much time describing what marrying your father would have been like, but I’m trying to make a point. Several points, really.

I never wanted to be married.

I never saw myself becoming a mother.

And all I ever wanted was to live as much life as I could before it was taken away from me.

Marrying you wasn’t my choice, and we both know I was a terrible wife to you. But I don’t regret it for even a second. Marrying you gave me Bastian, and eventually gave me Leo too. Being pregnant, and giving birth to our boy, it showed me that there was never anything wrong with me, but there had always been something profoundly wrong with my mother.

I worried for Bastian’s health the moment it was confirmed he was in my stomach. I worried that he would have JHD, and not because that would expose my secret, but because it would mean his life wouldn’t be full.

He was my baby, unborn or not, and I already loved him more than my mother ever loved me. I knew nothing about him, and I knew I would die for him. I didn’t even know if he was a him yet. I actually pictured him as a girl first, you know? I wasn’t disappointed, of course, when we learned his sex. I think it was simply because I always liked the name Chiara, and thought it would be a nice name for a baby.

That was my grandmother’s name, you know? She died before my diagnosis, from a stroke. She was another person that I always wondered if she was around, would she try to help me? I liked to think she would, but I hardly knew her. Do you really know anyone at only nine years old?

But I’m getting off topic, again. My point is, if I married anyone other than you, Leon Moretti, I would never know that I wasn’t the problem. I would die thinking that I was a burden my mother and father couldn’t bear, and that loving me was a task. You made me a mother, and you showed me that only a sociopath wouldn’t care for their babies the way we care for ours. We’re good parents, Leon. Excellent ones, even.

Our children love us, and we love them.

They’re such smart boys, with such kind hearts and we did that.

Bastian is so soft-spoken and shy, but brave at the same time. And our Leo, he could make it feel like the sun is shining in a tsunami.

I know I didn’t give you a chance to love me, and I certainly didn’t give myself any opportunity to fall in love with you either, and you can hate me for eternity for that. I won’t be angry if you do. But I don’t want you to live the rest of your life thinking it was your fault that I didn’t want you. I don’t want you to go on, thinking there’s something wrong with you, like I thought there was something wrong with me for years.

You’re a good man, and I think falling in love with you could have been easy—far too easy. And frankly, Leon, you didn’t deserve to fall for a woman lying to your face. You don’t deserve to mourn me with a broken heart, and you don’t deserve to know the loss of a wife who you cherished. When Isobel died, it only further cemented my decision to keep you at arm’s length. I know it’s not fair, and I made this decision for you, but I refused to put you through what Cassio had to experience.

No one deserves to feel that kind of loss.