Chapter 7
702words
A graveyard silence fell over the interrogation room. Lorenzo sat frozen. The "true love" he had cherished above all else had played him for a fool and tried to bleed him dry, while the "bastard" he had cast aside was his only flesh and blood in the world.
"I… I…" His mouth opened, but the words stuck in his throat, replaced by a jagged wheeze. "Was I… was I really that much of a goddamn fool?"
He buried his face in his hands and let out a soul-piercing wail. There had been no physical torture, but the truth was tearing his heart apart, piece by agonizing piece.
"I don't believe it. Mia is my daughter? What have I done? I almost killed my own daughter! Elena, this isn't real! You're lying to me, aren't you?"
He went into a frenzy, slamming his head against the table until blood streamed down his forehead.
"It's real," I said, standing up and looking down at him as if at a pathetic creature. "For the sake of a woman who played you like a fiddle, you destroyed the only family who ever truly loved you. Lorenzo, you're nothing but a punchline."
After the interrogation, Lorenzo broke completely. Papa was ready to eliminate him once and for all, but I talked him out of it.
Death would have been a mercy. I wanted him alive; I wanted him to wake up every single morning in a fever dream of regret.
I stripped him of his rank and every asset he owned, then had him thrown out of the Corleone estate like a stray.
But he didn't leave.
From that day on, a ragged figure began lingering outside the Corleone estate. He knelt in the mud day after day, through sun and storm, refusing to leave.
He shouted over and over again across the estate. "Elena! Let me see Mia! I know I was wrong! I'm her Papa!"
But I never paid any attention to him.
…
It took a full month before Mia was finally cleared to leave the hospital.
The doctors recommended she get some fresh air and sunlight, so I finally wheeled her out.
The moment we appeared, Lorenzo—who had been huddled on the ground, emaciated from starvation—bolted toward us as if injected with adrenaline.
"Mia! Mia!"
The Soldati guarding the entrance held him back instantly, but he didn't care. He pressed his face against the gate, tears and snot streaking his face.
"Mia, look at me! It's Papa! I got you your favorite teddy bear. I'm penniless now, but I scraped together enough from collecting bottles and cans just to get this for you."
He fumbled through his rags and pulled out a filthy little bear. It was the only thing he had to his name that entire month.
I stopped in my tracks and didn't let the Soldati drive him away. I wanted him to see the truth.
Mia sat in her wheelchair, clutching a pristine, silk-soft plush toy I had bought her.
At the sound of the shouting, she turned her head toward the frantic man behind the gate.
Lorenzo looked at her with desperate hope. He longed for her to call out "Papa" in that sweet voice she once had, praying that their bond of blood might awaken even the faintest trace of memory in her.
But when Mia looked back at him, there was only the blankness of a stranger and raw fear in her eyes. She recoiled instinctively, her small hands clutching at the hem of my clothes.
"Mama…" she quavered. "Who is that beggar? He looks so creepy… just like the bad guy from that night."
Lorenzo's expression froze. The filthy teddy bear slipped from his fingers, landing in a muddy puddle.
"Mia, what are you saying? It's Papa! I'm the one who used to lift you high in the air!"
He let out a soul-shattering howl, trying to trigger even a spark of recognition.
But his howl only terrified Mia more. She burst into tears, burying her face in my lap. "I don't know him! Let's go, Mama! He's a bad guy! He wanted to crush me to death!"
