Gia

After checking my father’s schedule with his assistant, I arranged for us to meet for dinner on Thursday at Del Frisco’s, his favorite steakhouse in the city. I knew he would be at his most relaxed here. The old building was once the home of First Pennsylvania Bank and later renovated into an elegant, upscale restaurant. One thing they left behind was the bank vault, which was now a private dining room encased by glass wine cellars.

I reserved the space so we would have privacy but also so I could catch my father off guard. Angelo and I were already seated at the table when the hostess escorted my dad inside the vault. He smiled when he locked eyes with me. I had to force one in return.

Unlike the last time we met for dinner, I didn’t stand to greet him. Neither did Angelo. Dad didn’t seem to notice or mind and pulled out a chair across the table from Angelo and me.

Angelo and I sat next to each other, with my hand on his thigh and him squeezing me for dear life. He was furious. If Angelo had it his way, he would’ve sunk a few bullets into my father’s skull and been done with it. That was the only way my man knew how to exact his revenge. But I wasn’t like him.

“Where’s Faith? I was hoping to see her tonight.”

“She’s at home with her godfather.”

He nodded. “Sonny’s good with her.”

“He’s great with her. We couldn’t have asked for a better godfather.”

My dad picked up the menu and scanned it, even though he ordered the same steak every time. “So, what are you two getting to eat? Want to share a plate of cheesesteak dumplings with me?”

“I’m not hungry enough for an appetizer,” I shot back, trying to keep my voice level.

My stomach had been in knots all day. For all week, I’d been disgusted by his betrayal and sick over our dinner. But we had to clear the air. I wanted to dine and ditch, not sit down and have a heart-to-heart over a meal. It pained me to think this would be one of the last times I would ever see my father. He would never see Faith again. She would never have the chance to know her grandfather.

“I’ll eat some,” Angelo interjected. Like me, he was doing his best not to strangle my dad.

All I had to do was say the word and Angelo wouldn’t think twice. Angelo would have been happy to kill the man who had my mother murdered. It was hard to see him as my father anymore. Because a father would never do what he did to our family. He wouldn’t intentionally take the woman he supposedly loved from his only child.

Angelo rubbed my hand under the table and looked at my dad. “How’s the campaign?”

It was so hard for me to make small talk when all I wanted to do was confront my dad.

Who the hell cared about eating? I sure as shit didn’t.

Even though I knew he was responsible, I wanted to hear the words come from his mouth. One way or another, he would tell me the truth. Because I deserved it. He owed it to me.

Dad smiled and set the menu down in front of him. “So far, so good. The numbers are in my favor.”

“My dad will be pleased.” Angelo’s voice was devoid of emotion.

The waitress interrupted our conversation to jot down our orders, which was a welcome relief from the awkwardness at the table. After she left, we talked about current events and local sports until our food came. All of it was noise. None of us cared about any of the topics we were wasting our time discussing.

“Now that we’re done eating,” I said to my dad, “we can cut the shit. I asked you to come here for a reason.”

He sipped from his coffee mug, staring at me from beneath his dark brows. “Okay. What’s going on? Are you pregnant again?”

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. I want to hear your side of the story. So, tell me, Dad...” I practically hissed his name. “Why did you have the O’Shea’s kill Mom?”

He cleared his throat and choked on his coffee, setting the cup on the table with a loud bang. “Excuse me? Did you just insinuate I killed your mother?”

I leaned down to remove copies of the papers Sonny and I had found in his office along with my cell phone. As I slid the documents in his direction, I turned on the recording app on my phone and kept it on my thigh. We needed proof of his actions to tie him to her murder.

Dad studied the papers, using the beat that passed between us to buy him some time to come up with a lie. He glanced up at me, his gaze meeting mine. “This proves nothing. Did I have a life insurance policy on your mother? Yes, I did. I have one on you and Faith, too.”

“Why? So you can kill us, too?” My voice rose to a higher octave.

Angelo promised to be quiet and allowed me to talk to my father without his intervention. I also wanted to keep his voice off the recording.

“Honey, I didn’t kill your mother for the life insurance money. That car bomb was meant for me… not for either of you.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” I spat back with so much anger in my tone it shook through me. “The numbers don’t lie, Dad. How dumb can you be? You kept a record of everything you ever did for Angelo Sr. You even have sticky notes inside the folders with dates and times. The one note said O’Shea ten-thirty. That was the same time Mom was murdered. You’ve always been friendly with the O’Shea’s. Connor watched over me for weeks after mom died. You killed her! Admit it, and save me the time. I need to understand why you did it. Tell me and maybe I can, one day, find a way to forgive you.”

The last part was a lie. I never had any intention of forgiving him. My heart was too black and broken for forgiveness.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, stared up at the ceiling, and sighed.

“You can keep the papers if it makes you feel better. Just tell me the truth.” They were copies. I had the originals back at the apartment. “Please, Dad. You owe me this. I need to know why you took my mom away from me.”

When he locked eyes with me, his bottom lids were red-rimmed and glassy. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Because I am. I wish I could take back everything. I should have cut my ties years ago and moved out to the country where your mom always wanted to live. If I could go back in time, I would. I’d redo so many parts of my life. I tried to be a good father. Now you’re a parent you’ll see for yourself.”

“I would never pay someone to kill Angelo for insurance money.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning his head away from me. “I needed the money. I felt like I didn’t have a choice. The company was falling apart, and I was under a lot of pressure from outside sources.”

That was his nice way of saying from Angelo Sr.

Tears streamed down my face, one at a time. “Was it worth it? Are you happier now that you’ve ruined our family?”

“No,” he choked out, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. “I hope you never have to make the kind of choices I made for the sake of survival.” This time, he looked at Angelo. “I hope you never force her to make them.”

“I would never,” Angelo shot back, his voice like a growl.

Dad nodded.

Angelo and I had the kind of love that people write stories about. The only thing which could tear us apart was death, and even then, we would still live inside each other’s hearts. My parents never had what I have with Angelo. Their marriage was strained for years. Mom turned to the bottle, and I was pretty sure my dad turned to his assistant, though I couldn’t prove it.

I tapped the button on the recorder on my phone, satisfied with the evidence he’d provided me. Reaching down to my feet, I lifted my purse onto my lap, slipped the phone inside, and stood. I couldn’t look at him anymore. He made the steak in my stomach turn with each second we spent together.

Angelo rose along with me, removed his wallet from his pocket, and dropped a few hundred dollar bills on the table. My dad attempted to stand, but Angelo held out his hand, ordering him to stay put.

“Gianna, please.” My father begged, and it killed me that I no longer felt a thing for him.

Almost every significant moment in my life involved either my dad or Angelo, and I was turning my back on him forever. He broke my heart along with my trust. How could I ever look at him the same way again?

“I need some time,” I told him, even though it was a lie.

No amount of time or space would help me heal from the gaping hole he’d left in my heart. A void, which could never be filled, would always be there because of him. As I walked out of the vault with Angelo, I contemplated what to do with the information.

Angelo always told me blood demanded blood. I couldn’t do that to my father. But he had to pay for his sins.