Chapter 12 - THE FATHER LORENZO NEVER KNEW
Daniel Caruso lived under the name David Cross.
Sixty-four years old.
Former prosecutor.
Former federal witness.
Alive.
Vivian waited outside the cabin.
This reunion belonged to Lorenzo.
He entered alone.
Three hours later, he returned with red eyes.
Vivian did not ask what happened.
Lorenzo volunteered.
“He knew I existed.”
“That must hurt.”
“He tried to take me.”
“When?”
“When I was four.”
Vittorio threatened to kill Sofia if Daniel came near them again.
Daniel entered witness protection.
For years, he sent letters through intermediaries.
Vittorio intercepted them.
Lorenzo never saw one.
“He thought I hated him,” Lorenzo said.
Vivian looked toward the lake.
“A lot of people in your family made decisions for other people.”
“Yes.”
“You did too.”
“Yes.”
No defensiveness.
That still mattered.
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
For once, Lorenzo was comfortable saying it.
They spent the afternoon walking.
No guards.
No black cars.
No phones ringing every five minutes.
At sunset, Vivian stopped near the dock.
“Why did you buy my ring before our engagement?”
Lorenzo smiled sadly.
“I wondered when you’d ask.”
“Antonio found the receipt.”
“I know.”
“You wanted to marry me before our fathers’ treaty?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“Your father told me no.”
“You listened?”
“For almost two years.”
“That’s remarkably restrained.”
“I was younger.”
She laughed.
Then stopped.
“What did Dad say?”
“That if I wanted you, I needed to become a man who wouldn’t turn you into part of his world.”
Vivian looked at him.
“And you failed.”
“Completely.”
The honesty hurt.
Lorenzo continued.
“Then your father died. Vittorio proposed the marriage alliance. I told myself it gave me what I wanted.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“But you never told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was ashamed that some part of me was grateful Nathan wasn’t there to stop it.”
Vivian absorbed that.
Ugly.
Human.
Honest.
Then Lorenzo said:
“I loved you before I married you.”
She looked down.
“I loved you while I was cruel to you.”
“Love doesn’t excuse cruelty.”
“I know.”
“And that night?”
His face tightened.
“I was terrified Marcello would kill you.”
“You still chose to wound me first.”
“Yes.”
Vivian stepped closer.
“Do you love me now?”
“More carefully.”
That answer nearly undid her.
She did not kiss him.
Not yet.
Instead:
“Come to dinner Sunday.”
His eyes widened.
“With me?”
“With my mother.”
Fear crossed his face.
Vivian laughed.
“Prison was easier?”
“Significantly.”
Sunday became another.
Then Wednesday coffee.
Then walks.
Months.
Lorenzo found work consulting for a legal freight company that knew exactly who he was.
No hidden ownership.
No crime.
No empire.
He rented a one-bedroom apartment.
Paid his own bills.
Went to therapy every Thursday.
Vivian learned because he canceled dinner once rather than skip the appointment.
That impressed her more than flowers would have.
Then, eight months after his release, Vivian discovered something.
Not about Lorenzo.
About herself.
She had missed two periods.
At thirty-two, she knew exactly what that might mean.
One test.
Positive.
Her hands began shaking.
She and Lorenzo had slept together exactly once since reconnecting.
A month earlier.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Without promises.
She took another test.
Positive.
Then a third.
Positive.
Vivian sat on her bathroom floor.
History seemed to press against her chest.
Another Falcone pregnancy.
Another child.
Another chance for fear to make every decision.
Then her phone rang.
Lorenzo.
She almost ignored it.
Instead:
“Hello?”
“Vivian?”
“Can you come over?”
His voice changed instantly.
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad.”
A pause.
“I think.”
Two hours later, Lorenzo stood in her kitchen staring at three pregnancy tests.
He began crying.
Vivian stared.
“Say something.”
He wiped his face.
May you like
“I don’t know what I’m allowed to want.”
That was exactly the right answer.
