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"Darío," Frank says, his voice cracking as he speaks for the first time. "My father never spoke of his involvement. But now that I think about it, there were signs. Secret phone calls, long trips away from home… I never knew what he was hiding."
"Your father is a good man, Frank," Isabella adds softly. "He risked everything to keep me and Leonardo safe, and I will forever be grateful for his sacrifice."
I stand there, trying to process this new information. My mind races with questions and emotions, but above all else, I feel gratitude.
"Why?" I ask. "Why did Frank's father help you?" I try to solve the puzzle. Frank looks just as confused.
"Years ago," my mother explains. "When we were young. I fell in love with a young man. At 16, I got pregnant with his child. My parents wanted me to marry rich, powerful. And so, Luca Bonanno was sent on his way, banned from ever speaking to me. I was locked up until I gave birth.
The baby was taken from my arms, and sent to an orphanage, for me to never hear from again. For two years, I was kept under lock and key and at eighteen, forcibly married to your father."
"Oh mother," I whisper, my heart aching for her.
She wipes away a tear. "Luca Bonanno, your father Frank," she smiles at him, "tried to get me back but to no avail. He promised himself to never feel weak and became the mafia don he is today. We never spoke, but I used to hear rumors of his rise to fame. People called him "Lucky" when in fact, I know it was all his hard work and grit."
"That's father," Frank smiles, proudly.
"When you were around eight, Dario, Luca contacted me. For years, he had searched for our son and promised to never contact me, unless he found him. Leonardo, that's where you come in."
"I was in a ghastly home," Leonardo whispers. "Until father saved me."
"But papa," Frank frowns. "And mama?"
"Your father has always remained loyal to your mother, Frank. Always. But both your parents have helped Leonardo and I. That night, Leonardo had snuck in to meet me and my husband found out. He tried killing us both. Leonardo helped save both our lives and Frank, your father and mother cared for us, healed us. Luca was ready to wage war on the Marchetti, but Leonardo stopped him, saying that someday, the Marchetti sons will wage justice."
"And that is just what happened tonight," Leonardo whispers, proudly.
My mother smiles and holds out her hands. "My three boys, you too Frank. You are as much a son to me, for after everything your parents did for me, just know I am forever indebted to them and you. You're a good lad."
We all pull into a big hug. When done, Frank jokes - "Papa must be waiting to hear all about tonight. Should we go?"
"You carry on," I tell Frank, Leonardo and my mother. Tears blur my vision as the weight of this revelation settles on me. My mother, who I thought was dead for years, has been alive and suffering all this time. And it's all thanks to Frank's father that she and Lorenzo are still alive.
"Your sacrifice is not lost on me, mother," I say, wiping away tears. "And neither is the kindness of Frank's father. He must have loved you deeply to go to such lengths."
"Frank," I look over at my friend, whose eyes are moist with unshed tears. "You have every reason to be proud of your father."
"Thank you, Dario," Frank whispers, his voice laced with pride. "I always knew he was a good man, but I had no idea just how much he did for your family."
I nod. "And now," I declare. "I have to live up to his footsteps and go check on the mother of my future child."
Chapter 47
Confessions
Jasmine
I pace the length of Dario's apartment, my heart pounding in my chest as I anxiously wait for him to return. With the cops and agents descending on the compound, it was vital for Dario to run before he was caught.
I thought he would run right back to his safe place. But he's not here and I'm worried. Has he been caught? Did some vengeful members of his father's guard find him, hurt him or worse? Anguish gnaws at me, making it nearly impossible to sit still. My fingers trace over the smooth surface of his wooden table, and the memory of our first meal together here comes to surface.
I'm still not recovered from the chaos of tonight; police sirens blaring, the screeching of tires piercing the night air and the constant danger we survived.
Correction.
I survived.
"Dammit, Dario," I whisper under my breath as I check my watch, willing him to walk through the door and put an end to this torturous waiting game.
