I tried. For six years, I tried.
It only got worse with time, not better.
I agreed that she could have a child, and a year later, Angelina became pregnant. For the first time in my marriage, your mother was furious-crazy like I had never seen her before. She wanted to have my only children and she didn’t speak to me for three months. We fought. She showed me a side of her I hadn’t seen before. Heartbroken, I worked desperately hard to get my best friend back. I missed her. I missed your mother’s love, and then the unthinkable happened. For the first time ever, I fell in love with your mother. It was a different love to what I had with Angelina, but love, nonetheless.
She deserved better than I gave her.
I don’t know how my life turned out the way it did. I was in love with two women.
My beloved wife and my devoted soul mate.
The three of us suffered, but Angelina ultimately sacrificed the most.
How could fate be so cruel?
The day Giuliano was born, my heart sang with happiness.
The joy that he brought to my Angelina was indescribable.
I gasp as my hand flies over my mouth, Giuliano’s haunted eyes hold mine.
My biggest regret in all of this is that he didn’t get to grow up with his brothers. Enrico, when I look at him, I see you.
Brave, strong, and loyal.
I love you, son…more than you could ever know.
I drop my head as the tears roll down my face.
No.
You may ask why I didn’t tell you any of this, Enrico.
The answer is simple: it changes you. It changes every part of who you think you are. Knowing that your family’s money comes from crime, knowing that your father has committed adultery for all of your life…it’s soul destroying. Trust me, I know first-hand.
I was eleven years old when I found out about the family business. I was eleven years old when I witnessed my first murder. I was eleven years old when Stefano brought his mistresses into my life and paraded them in front of me as if I should be proud. There were multiple women-too many to remember. Sometimes three or four at once. This was his normal. This was how he was brought up. This was how he was going to bring me up.
He had no respect for my mother or me. It changed who I was, and for a long time, I hated him for it.
I vowed that I would never let my sons be tainted and bitter the way I was.
I wanted my sons to be proud of who I was.
I’m not perfect.
I know I loved two women, Enrico. The three of us were victims of circumstance. I know that I am still a Ferrara.
But I hope you remember the good in me, and how much I loved you.
I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears.
This can’t be happening.
Please listen to what I am about to tell you. I know you will be angry, but I have my reasoning.
Giuliano does not know anything about my other life. Like you, I have tried to protect him. He knows me as Papa-his father who worked away for a few days a week. The one who idolized his mother.
My eyes rise to see Giuliano staring at the ground.
Clearly devastated.
Oh…dear God.
Enrico, I need you to be the strong man I raised and step up and look after my beloved Angelina and Giuliano.
They are all alone.
I have taken precautions and they have been guarded up until you find this letter, but they are now in your care.
I have thought long and hard about this, Enrico, and I have made my decision based on personality alone. I have four sons, but only two are strong enough to be leaders. Giuliano is to be your successor, Enrico.
He will one day follow in your footsteps and lead Ferrara.
My eyes widen as the floor spins beneath me.
This can’t be happening.
When Giuliano Ferrara Linden is twenty-one, and not a day before, he will receive a letter similar to the one you are reading now, and he will learn of everything. He will be publicly claimed as my son, and his name will be legally changed to Giuliano Ferrara. He will then hate me, I have no doubt.
I screw up my face in tears and put my hand over my mouth.
I need you to take him under your wing and remind him of how much he was wanted and loved.
My love for his mother has not waned in death, he was my gift to her. Love personified.
Care for him, love him, and teach him what I have had the time to teach you.
Look after my beloved Angelina, and your beautiful mother.
I miss them both dearly.
I love you, my son. More than anything, I love you.
Be brave, be strong, and try to understand my life and why I haven’t always been honest with you. My only goal was to protect your sense of self.
I pray that I have.
All my love,
Papa.
x
The room is silent, tears stream down my face and I drag my eyes up to meet his.
We stare at each other for an extended time and then he comes to me and cups my face in his hand. “I’ve come to say goodbye,” he whispers.
My face distorts as I shake my head. “No.” I push him in the chest. “Don’t you dare say that to me.” I begin to slap him away as I lose control. Don’t touch me, I’m outraged at this terrible lie he’s telling me.
“Baby.” He wrestles me and then takes me into his arms and holds me tight as I cry against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers against my forehead. “I need you to go to Paris.”
I pull out of his arms. “No, I’m not leaving you.”
“You are not safe here. The person who killed Enrico is still here in Italy. I need you to go live with your brother, Andrea.”
“No. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”
He screws up his face and this time it is him fighting tears. “We can never be together, Francesca.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m your brother.”
I step back from him, I need to get away from this hurt.
“Stop it,” I spit. “Stop lying.” I grab the letter and scrunch it in a ball and throw it at him. “I don’t want your stupid fucking letter. Take it away. I hate it,” I cry.
My chest is shaking as I struggle for air and he just stares at me in a detached state.
“I have to go,” he says calmly.
“No.” I reach for him. “Don’t you leave me.”
He kisses my forehead. “Goodbye.” He pulls out of my arms and walks toward the door.
I cry, howl-to-the-moon sobs, this can’t be happening.
He opens the door and Anna is standing there, her face falls as she sees me so upset.
“Francesca,” she whispers.
He brushes past her and walks down the steps, I sob out loud.
“What have you done to her?” my mother yells after him.
“Stay out of my way,” he growls.
“You are not welcome in this house again; do you hear me?” she yells.
Oh no. I run to the top of the stairs.
Giuliano turns back toward her and lifts his chin, as if infuriated. “I believe I own this house, Bianca,” he sneers.