Page 206 of This Life of Mine

My father’s gaze flicks to me. “You’re wrong.”

“I doubt that,” I say flatly.

Something tight passes through my father’s expression.

“He named his son after you,” he says.

The words don’t land right away.

“What?”

“Alessandro,” he repeats. “Six years old. Nico’s firstborn.”

My chest locks.

“Did he know I was alive?” I ask.

“No,” my father agrees. “He didn’t.”

A quiet moment exists between us, heavy and charged.

“I told him after the attempt,” he continues. “When it became clear that the ground beneath us was no longer stable. When lies stopped being protection and started being liabilities.”

I stare at him. “You let him believe I was dead.”

My father doesn’t argue. “I let him believe you were gone. That there was no way back.”

“And how did that go over once you told him the truth?”

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“He was furious,” he admits. “Not at you. At me. For taking the choice away from him. For letting him grieve someone who was never actually lost.”

This space seems more cramped now.

“He wants to see you,” my father says. “Very much.”

“After everything—you expect me to believe—“

“I expect you to understand blood,” he cuts in. “Even when it’s complicated. Even when it’s broken.”

He studies me carefully. “He didn’t ask for the life I built. He’s been trying to survive it the way you did—by doing what he thinks is right.”

I glance down at Lina again. At the quiet strength in her presence. At the life I’ve chosen.

“Someone in the family has been operating outside my authority,” he continues. “Running…businessI did not sanction.”

That word lands wrong. Business.

“What kind of business?” I ask.

He hesitates.

Just a fraction too long.

“Discreet,” he says. “Off-books. Transactions that don’t pass through the usual channels. Payments that move too cleanly for legitimate work.”

His mouth hardens.