Chapter 8 - THE FATHER WHO WASN'T INVITED
Dante didn't come to the hospital.
He wanted to.
God, he wanted to.
But Miriam had made the boundaries clear.
No surprise visits.
No security entourage.
No attempts to contact Elena directly without permission.
Dante agreed.
He sent flowers.
I returned them.
He sent a diamond bracelet.
I returned that too.
Then he sent something different.
A handwritten letter.
Elena,
I know I have no right to ask you to forgive me.
I know our daughter was born without me because I made our home a place you no longer felt safe.
I will respect your decisions.
I want Isabella to know that she was wanted.
But I understand that wanting a child and being worthy of being her father are not the same thing.
I am working with my attorneys to address the things I should have confronted years ago.
I won't ask you to trust words.
I'll try to become someone whose actions deserve trust.
Dante.
I read it three times.
Then placed it in a drawer.
I didn't answer.
Isabella grew quickly.
She loved being held.
She hated having her feet covered.
She made tiny sounds in her sleep that reminded me of a kitten.
Every day, I discovered something new.
Every day, I felt a little stronger.
But there were difficult nights.
Nights when she cried for hours.
Nights when I was exhausted.
Nights when I wondered whether I had made the right choice.
Then I'd look at her.
And remember that leaving wasn't about punishing Dante.
It was about creating a life where neither of us had to live in fear.
Three months after Isabella's birth, Miriam called.
"Elena, there's been a development."
I sat up.
"What?"
"Salvatore Moretti has been arrested."
My breath caught.
"Where?"
"Outside Providence."
I closed my eyes.
"And Dante?"
Miriam hesitated.
"He's cooperating."
May you like
I looked down at Isabella.
For the first time, I wondered whether the past might finally stop chasing us.
