Chapter 8 - MY FATHER GOT HIS NAME BACK AFTER HE WAS TOO DEAD TO HEAR IT
The press conference happened on a Tuesday.
Vitali Group’s independent board committee released its findings.
They acknowledged that the company’s twelve-year-old public statements about Daniel Monroe had relied on compromised evidence.
The company formally withdrew its accusation that my father had stolen foundation funds.
Then Vittorio made his own statement.
Not Alessandro.
Vittorio.
He needed to.
He stood at a podium with one hand braced against a cane.
“I failed Daniel Monroe.”
Simple.
Then:
“I allowed loyalty to my family to become disloyalty to the truth.”
I watched from my apartment.
Liam sat beside me.
Alessandro was across the room.
I cried before Vittorio finished.
Dad was still dead.
Mom was still dead.
No press release gave them those years back.
No apology restored friends who abandoned them.
No corrected headline could reach a cemetery.
That night, I drove to my parents’ grave.
Alessandro came.
Waited near the car until I asked him closer.
I placed the printed board report against Dad’s headstone.
Stupid.
Paper in the wind.
Symbolic nonsense.
I needed it.
“Dad.”
My voice broke.
“You were right.”
Then I remembered his letter.
Do not spend your life trying to clear my name.
I laughed through tears.
“Sorry.”
Alessandro stood beside me.
Did not touch me until I reached for his hand.
Choice.
Always.
Then I placed my other hand against my stomach.
Fourteen weeks.
The baby had started becoming real beyond nausea and fear.
Alessandro whispered:
“Whatever happens with us…”
I looked at him.
“I want to be her father.”
“Her?”
He smiled.
“I have a feeling.”
“You’re statistically reckless.”
“Fine.”
“His father.”
I laughed.
Then became serious.
“You don’t get to use money to control decisions.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get automatic access to me because I’m carrying your child.”
“I know.”
“And if we don’t become a couple—”
“I still show up.”
Good.
May you like
That was the answer.
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