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"I don’t ask for your forgiveness, Willow,” he whispered. “I ask that you simply let me continue to be your father, whether that means I’ll always be the villainous Papa Dearest who fucked up your life or the man who wished to shield you from the true villains who were desperate to make you their puppet. I’ll accept your hate. Your anger. Your ruthlessness. I’ll face it all as long as you let me remain the center of your loathing.”
My tears were next to fall down my cheeks and I dared to laugh.
“Now that just makes me want to forgive you so you’ll suffer more,” I muttered. Glancing back down at him, I stared into his pitiful expression and decided to ask one prime thing.
"Do you still love me as your child?” I had to know. “Despite not having a cock and having a shit ton of flaws and imperfections? Can you still love me even though I’m borderline insane, have at least ten lovers, and have a wolf that just awakened a few months ago? Can you accept that our relationship isn’t going to be smooth just because I’ve finally claimed what you’ve hoped I’d achieve in this lifetime? That you’ll get days where I truly am happy that you exist and other days when I’ll wish to say it fuck it and push you out of my life? Are you ready to face the consequences the trauma you bestowed upon me will bring unexpectedly?”
I bombarded him with the words without a glimpse of hope he’d accept them.
"I still love you, Willow,” he said loud and clear. “You’re still my De Luca. Still my prodigy who made me fucking proud every step of the way. The consequences my actions have made upon your life will haunt me for the rest of mine, but I don’t regret it. I don’t regret being able to witness what you’ve become,” he emphasized. “If I have to face days of turmoil and days of serenity, so be it.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat as he quietly added, “As long as I can continue to be the Papa Dearest you despise.”
"I hate you.” I huffed and worked on wiping away my tears. “Always.”
He managed to smile at that. “You’ve made an old man like me proud.”
“Old my ass,” I muttered. “You can still kneel on your fucking knees. Don’t say shit about being old until you break a hip or something.”
He chuckled then as he lowered his head once more.
“I have one last request.”
“What?” I figured since he was still kneeling, there was something.
“Be easy with your mother.” His voice softened then, and I couldn’t help but peer down at him. “Her dreams for you were far brighter than one could ever envision, and it all went down the drain because of one hopeful agreement with someone she trusted. She may put her role as queen ahead of anything else, but deep within, it breaks her soul that she couldn’t raise you the way she dreamed of.”
He lifted his head to stare up at me.
“Give your mother a chance. Allow her to show you the other side of our world you’ve been shunned from. Then you’re free to make judgment.”
"And to think you’ve convinced the world you’d never love a woman,” I mumbled with a tsk. "Yet you’re protecting the woman I thought was chained up in a dungeon cell.”
He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t expect him to, which was why I turned away.
"Fine. Seeing as I have a glimpse of kindness in my heart, I’ll listen to my papa dearest’s plea and not be cruel to my mother.”
“Thank you.”
"Whatever.”
I swore this probably looked like a shitty way of facing your trauma with your parents, but here I was, feeling a bit better than the explosive rage I’d carried minutes prior.
"You should go,” I finally stated. “I’m about to do my walk.”
"I’ll be in the audience,” he assured me, "watching you make your stance.”
“Hmph,” I dismissed.
“If anyone dares taint your mind, attempts to kill you again, or mocks you publicly, know deep within your mind, heart, and soul that I, Roberto De Luca, will come to your aid and never let the enemy win.”
I bit my lip at those words, remembering them as if they had been spoken to me in that very dungeon as I was but a child staring into the eyes of my father who had to wear the hat of the villain.
“I’d take a bullet for you, Willow,” he whispered. “Understand?”
He didn’t wait for me to reply, his footsteps behind fading away as his words haunted me.
“I understand, Papa.” I quietly spoke the words, wondering if he’d heard them as I quickly wiped away the tears that tried to run down my cheeks for what had to be the third time.
