Chapter 5 - THE FATHER WHO CROSSED AN OCEAN
Salvatore Vitale arrived in New York the following afternoon.
He came with two attorneys and a small security team.
No dramatic convoy.
No public display.
He went directly to the hospital.
Clara was sitting beside the window when he entered.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Salvatore stopped.
His face changed.
He looked older than she remembered.
His hair had turned almost entirely silver.
The lines around his eyes were deeper.
But his expression was unmistakable.
“Lucia.”
Her eyes filled.
“Papa.”
He crossed the room.
Then stopped a few feet away.
“May I hug you?”
Clara began crying.
She nodded.
Salvatore wrapped his arms around her.
For four years, she'd imagined this moment.
She'd imagined anger.
Accusations.
Commands.
Instead, he held her carefully.
As though she were something precious he'd nearly lost forever.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered.
Clara closed her eyes.
“I missed you.”
His shoulders trembled.
“I missed you every day.”
For a long time, they simply held each other.
Then Salvatore stepped back.
He looked at the bruise on her face.
His jaw tightened.
But he didn't ask for revenge.
He asked:
“What do you need?”
Clara swallowed.
“I need to know I'm not going back to Sicily unless I choose to.”
Salvatore nodded.
“Then you won't.”
She stared.
“Promise?”
He looked into her eyes.
“On my life.”
And for the first time in four years, Lucia Vitale believed she might be able to have both things she'd always wanted.
May you like
Her family.
And her freedom.
