Page 17 of Freed
I look at Fran. Really look at her. And I nod.
“April,” I say. “That works.”
Fran exhales, like she’s been holding her breath for weeks. Her fingers tighten around mine, tentative but hopeful.
Everyone at the table smiles.
And I tell myself that this is the right decision.
That choosing what’s in front of me over what’s lost is what a Don does. What a father does. What a man who wants to survive his own mistakes must do.
Still… later that night, alone in the dark, I lie awake staring at the ceiling. And I wonder if agreeing to marry Fran is the moment I finally lose Elizabeth forever. Or if it’s the moment I lose myself.
Our wedding day dawns gray and cold, snow falling in soft, steady sheets that blanket the city in something almost gentle.Half of Chicago shows up. Unlike last time, they’re here to celebrate.
But the church is the same one. The same stone walls. The same pews. The same altar where I buried my daughter.
Sienna sits heavy on my chest as I stand there, hands clasped, breathing through memories I don’t want. My sweet girl didn’t deserve the ending she got. If I had been better—if I had been sharper, more ruthless, more careful—she’d still be alive.
She never would’ve liked Fran. I know that. She would’ve seen through the polish and the politics. But she would have loved the idea of being a big sister. She would’ve been thrilled by it.
The thought nearly undoes me.
A darker one follows close behind. A part of me wonders if her death is my punishment. For wanting Elizabeth the moment I saw her. For bringing her into my world instead of leaving her in Kansas City where she was safe. If I had never pulled her closer, Sienna would never have gone to that club in Chicago. She’d still be alive.
My eyes are still burning when the door opens and Federico steps inside, immaculate as always.
“A gift from my daughter,” he says, setting a box wrapped in white paper on the table beside me.
I manage a smile. “I have one for her as well.”
I hand him the box I brought, but he doesn’t take it right away. He studies me instead.
“You made the right choice,” he says finally. “Mistresses come and go. A wife and a family—that’s what matters in our world.”
The smile on my face tightens until it feels like it might crack my jaw.
“Indeed.”
He nods, satisfied. Then he adds, “Did you ever figure out where that girl ran off to?”
My pulse jumps, but I don’t let it show.
“I haven’t looked,” I lie smoothly.
He hums, thoughtful. “Probably for the best. It would be hard to find her in Europe.”
The words hit like a blade sliding between my ribs.
Europe.
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t blink. Because I never told anyone I suspected she’d left the country. And Federico is watching me now, that faint, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’s just slid a blade between my ribs and is waiting to see if I notice the pain.
The warning bells in my head aren’t bells anymore. They’re sirens.
Why does he think Elizabeth is in Europe?
So I do what I’ve done my entire life. What made me a Don. What kept me alive.
