Evelina

(xviii)

Draven

My daughter sat in front of me, her eyes fixed on me, waiting for something. I wanted to tell her everything, but the words wouldn't come. After what felt like an eternity, I finally cleared my throat, trying to steady my shaking voice.

"Evelina," I began, using the name she had taken after she left us. "You've grown into an extraordinary woman. I know my words may not mean much to you, but I need you to know that I mean every single one." I paused, letting the weight of what I was about to say settle between us. "You were the first mafia princess in our family in generations, and because of that, I had no idea how to raise you, how to treat you. I'm not trying to excuse my actions, but... I'm asking for your forgiveness."

A lone tear escaped down my cheek, but her face remained cold, unreadable. I had no idea if my words were reaching her.

"Eve," I continued, feeling desperation claw at my chest, "I know you're married now. I'm not going to force you to marry Klaus. You've found happiness with Antonio, and I can see that. But please... don't leave this family entirely. Don't blame your brothers—they tried to stop me. They begged me to treat you like the little princess you were, but I didn't listen. I thought I was following tradition, doing what was expected. My father, my grandfather, all of us went through that test. And I believed that having emotions made you weak in this world."

More tears fell as the memories I had buried for years rushed to the surface. "When your mother died, and then my parents, it took everything out of me. I didn't know how to feel. I shut down, became the Don, and forgot what it meant to be your father. When you left after the test... I thought you'd come back. I kept waiting, but when you didn't return after that first night, I sent out search parties. I looked for you everywhere, every corner I could think of."

I choked on my own words, my voice breaking. "In focusing on finding you, I almost lost Dante. He was hurt the most by your leaving. The night before the test, he came to me, begging—begging me not to put you through it. He told me you were too innocent, that it would destroy you. I should have listened to him."

I broke down then, the years of guilt and regret pouring out in uncontrollable sobs. "I'm so sorry, Eve. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, please do. But if you can't, don't hate your brothers because of my mistakes. They loved you, they cared for you, and they tried to protect you."

When I finally stopped, I heard her sigh—a deep, measured sigh. I looked up to see her holding out a tissue box.

"Here," she said, her voice cold but steady. "Wipe your tears and listen carefully."

I took the tissues from her, wiping my face, as she crossed her legs and arms, fixing me with a piercing gaze.

"Mr. Morri—scratch that. Dad," she began, her voice firm but calm. "I don't know if I can forgive you yet. But I will try. I will try to forgive you, and I will try to accept my brothers. Just don't expect it to happen anytime soon. For years, the people closest to being brothers to me were my brothers-in-law. As for the marriage to Klaus, I'm glad you've had second thoughts. If it's about breaking some ridiculous contract, I can help you with that."

She paused, her voice softening just a little as she asked, "One more thing. Where is Mom's grave?"

Her question took me by surprise, but I managed a faint smile through the remnants of my tears. "It's in the backyard," I replied quietly, "in her favorite garden."

For the first time, her expression softened, and she gave me a small, almost tentative smile. "Thank you, Dad."

That smile—it was everything I had hoped to see for years.

Evelina left the room, her steps steady as she closed the door behind her, leaving me with a smile on my face that I hadn't worn in years. For the first time, hope didn't feel so distant. Maybe—just maybe—there was a chance to heal the wounds I had inflicted on my family.

I stood up, preparing to leave my office, when my phone rang. The sharp tone broke through the peaceful silence that had settled over me. Without bothering to glance at the screen, I answered it, my voice still touched with the warmth of the moment.

"Hello?"

"Hello, my brother."

The thick, unmistakable German accent on the other end of the line immediately soured my mood. Johann Schmitt.

"What do you want, Johann?" I asked, my voice hardening.

"I heard you found your daughter." His tone dripped with smugness, as if he thought he held some kind of leverage.

"And?" I growled, my good mood rapidly evaporating.

"I trust you haven't forgotten our deal. We'll be arriving today. No further discussion. I need my son married—fast—so he can take his rightful place and run the mafia."

The audacity of the man was almost laughable. Almost. Before I could respond, before I could tear into him for daring to speak of Evelina as if she were some pawn, he cut the call, leaving me with nothing but the dead air and the burning anger that had ignited inside me.

I clenched my fist around the phone, my mind racing. Johann and his son Klaus—the very people responsible for so much of Evelina's suffering—were coming here, today, to force a marriage that would never happen.

Not if I had anything to say about it.