Her Godfather (18+)

Chapter 25

(Richard's POV)

The office was dark except for the low flicker of the desk lamp. Shadows danced across the walls, the air thick with silence and stale regret. Richard sat slouched in his chair, beer in hand, staring at nothing. The air smelled like stale alcohol and grief.

In front of him, a photo frame lay face down. He hadn't had the heart to flip it back over.

He didn't need to. He knew exactly what it was—
Ivy, no older than seven, a wide toothless smile, perched on his shoulders, her small arms wrapped around his forehead like she ruled the world from up there.
His world.

Now, all he could see when he closed his eyes was that conversation with Matthew—Ivy's friend, the one who'd grown up in their house, the one who used to call him sir and ask permission before borrowing DVDs.

"There's something you need to know sir. About Ivy and your uhm.. friend, Matteo."

Richard had laughed at first. Ivy and Matteo? As if. Matteo had been there since the beginning—his most trusted friend. Family. The man he'd brought into his circle without question.

Until Matthew showed him the photo.

It was from the night of the party.

Ivy and Matteo, stepping out of a room together. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed. Matteo right behind her, close—too close. His hand brushed the small of her back like it belonged there.

There wasn't a kiss. No bed in the frame.

But there was a look between them.

A look that said everything.

Richard hadn't spoken. He didn't need to. The truth had already set itself on fire inside his chest.

And now, hours—maybe days—later, the ache still sat there. Burning. Festering.

How could she?

How could he?

They'd gone through everything together. Trusted each other with secrets. Shared smokes in bloodied shirts and talked about women and what they'd die for. Matteo had been the man he trusted most in the world.

And Ivy...
She had been the one thing untouchable.

The door creaked open behind him.

"Richard?" his wife's voice was soft. Worn.

He didn't turn around.

She stepped in slowly, her expression tight and tired. The same cardigan she'd been wearing for two days clung to her frame, her face pale and hollow.

"I can't do this anymore," she said quietly. "I want to talk to her."

"No."

"She's our daughter."

"She chose him."

"Maybe she was manipulated," she pushed, coming closer. "He's older. He's charming. He's Matteo. You don't think that matters? She looked up to him her whole life. Maybe she thinks this is love. Maybe she doesn't know any better."

"She's not stupid," Richard snapped, finally looking at her. "You think she just tripped and fell into his bed?"

"She's young."

"She knew what she was doing. He knew what he  was doing."

"She's Ivy," she said, her voice cracking now. "Our Ivy. And she's hurting. I know she is. And whether you want to admit it or not, we raised her to think for herself. You think she'd throw away her whole life, her whole family, for something that meant nothing to her?"

"She threw it away the second she chose him," he muttered. "She picked him over me."

"She picked herself," his wife snapped, stepping forward. "And maybe that pisses you off because you weren't done controlling her, but that doesn't mean she's not our child anymore."

He said nothing.

They stood there, the weight of everything between them pulsing in the silence.

Then—

Ding-dong.

The doorbell.

They both froze.

Richard stood slowly, chest suddenly tight.

"You expecting someone?" she asked, voice thin.

He shook his head.

She followed him to the door, eyes wide, fingers twitching at her sides.

He unlocked it and pulled it open.

Matteo stood there.

Eyes dark and unreadable.

And behind him—
Ivy.

Pale. Silent. Her hand wrapped tight around Matteo's arm like she didn't know how to let go.

Richard didn't speak.

Neither did his wife.

Matteo looked him straight in the eye.

Voice low. Measured.

"We need to talk."

——
Notes
I've published a new book called Princess.
Check it out and let me know what you guys think!

xx