Chapter 88 - There’s Been A Development

Chapter 88 - There’s Been A Development
Dante’s POV

His voice cracked like old paper. Still, it held something familiar. Something warm.

“I wasn’t sure—if you would,” he added. “Lucia said…. you might.”

I stayed near the door for a second, thrown off. I hadn’t expected a smile. Or softness.

“Yeah,” I said, voice low. “I came.”

Antonio looked at me like I was someone he hadn’t seen in years—not the man who’d shattered his life, but maybe the boy he used to know. The corner of his lip lifted again, faint but real.

“You were… always taller, I think,” he murmured, squinting like he was looking through fog. “The tallest of the… of the boys. Or maybe it was your brother…”

He chuckled suddenly, but it died halfway.

“Lucia followed you everywhere. Like a shadow. Or maybe you were hers.”

A beat passed.

“No, you were the shadow. Or—was she?” He blinked, frowning. “She said… you walked like… like you owned… something. The street? Or was it the school?”

He looked up, lost.

“Anyway… she adored you.”

He chuckled again, dry. Like a memory he didn’t mind having.

I blinked. What the hell was he talking about?

Still, I played along.

I smiled. “It’s good to see you’re recovering, though. Where’s Lucia?”

Really? That was what my brain could come up with?

He didn’t answer. Just kept staring past me, like the question never landed. His eyes had gone foggy again, drifting somewhere I couldn’t follow…. like I’d suddenly stopped being real.

“You two… you were always close. Always running off together, weren’t you? I used to worry she’d get her heart—wait, no. That wasn’t you, was it?” His brow furrowed. “No, no… I did worry. I remember that. Guess I was right. Or maybe I was wrong. She doesn’t talk much now.”

I was beyond confused at that point. Where the hell was Lucia?

He went back to flipping the magazine slowly, his fingers trembling over the pages.

“But it’s good you’re here,” he continued, nodding slowly. “You came back. That has to mean something. Doesn’t it?” He looked down at his hands, confused for a second. “Wait… did you say you just got here? Or—no, no, you were always here. I think.”

I took a tentative step closer. “Yes, I came to check on you. How are you?.”

I’d come to check on them to ask for forgiveness, if that was even possible. But how could I, if he didn’t even remember who I was? A part of me wondered if that should feel like mercy. It didn’t.

He ignored my question again, gaze fixed on the window, lost in something I couldn’t see.

“I dreamed about that day again last night,” he murmured. “The robbery. The screaming. My wife… she—she dropped the glass… not the glass, the… what was it?”

He trailed off, brows pinching like the thought had gotten lost halfway out.

Something in me tightened.

No.

“Antonio—”

“I couldn’t wake her,” he whispered, more urgent now. “She wouldn’t move. And Lucia… she was just a baby. Or was it her wedding day? No, wait…”

Then he turned, and his eyes snapped into focus like something inside him clicked back into place.

“You,” he said, voice suddenly hollow. “You were there.”

I stilled.

He sat up straighter, eyes wide now—wild.

“You did this. You brought that hell to my family.” His voice rose, trembling with fury. “I keep relieving that day over and over…. Like a punishment. Every time I close my eyes, it’s there. And it’s you!”

Now, words failed me.
Pain and guilt didn’t even come close. It felt like my heart was being carved open with a thousand dull blades.

I’d wanted Antonio to suffer for stealing from my father, for setting off the fire that destroyed everything. I thought he deserved it.

But seeing him now, frail, confused, nothing like the man he once was, hurt more than I expected. And knowing I caused it… that I was the reason for his pain… it crushed me.

I thought having him fall apart would bring me peace. It did, all those years ago. But now? Now that he’s the father of the woman I love? It felt like hell.

How was Lucia even dealing with this?

“Antonio, please—” 

“You… you did this,” he muttered first, almost unsure—then his voice sharpened. “You brought death to my family.”

His hands trembled, jaw twitching. “I see it—every night, like clockwork. The noise, the blood. Over and over.”

He slapped the tray beside him, a weak, dull sound that made the cut in his voice seem even sharper.

“I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Can’t—” he paused, blinking, confused. “What day is it? Did she visit today? Or was that yesterday?” His breath hitched. “Sometimes I look at her and—” he stopped again, eyes glassy. “I forget her face. My own daughter, and I forget.”

He looked at me again, but it was like looking through me. “And it’s because of you. Because of what you did.”

My throat burned, but I didn’t move. Didn’t defend myself.

He was shaking now, breathing hard.

“I… I’m losing… everything, I think. My memories… they’re slipping away. And it’s… it’s because of you.”

Lucia had once told me he started struggling after the “robbery”. Maybe none of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t stolen from us, but I wasn’t blameless either. And I didn’t say that out loud.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. 

He stared at me like he didn’t even know who I was anymore.

“Get out,” he rasped. “Before I…forget you again and start thinking you’re someone. I can stomach.”

I nodded once and turned away. I closed the door softly behind me, but the sound still felt loud. Like I was shutting away a ghost I’d helped create.

As I stepped into the hallway, Lucia was waiting, her face pale, jaw clenched like she’d heard everything.

“He needs time,” she said quietly. “But I’ll talk to him.”

I gave a slow nod. “And you?” My voice was rough. “Have you forgiven me?”

She looked away, eyes glinting with too many emotions to name. “I don’t know, Dante. I’m trying… but I don’t know.”

I swallowed hard, forcing steadiness into my voice. “You said you needed time. Take it—all the time you need, firefly.”

Even if it kills me. I’ll be waiting.

I hesitated. “Your father, though…” My voice dropped. “He needs more help than he’s being given. That wasn’t just trauma. Something’s… slipping.”

Her face fell, shadows of sadness creeping over her features.

She swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to spill. Her hand brushed her temple, slow and shaky, like she was trying to hold herself together. “I know,” she whispered. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Her smile was too small to be real. It faltered as she turned away.

“Surely,” I replied, my voice low with quiet reassurance.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

I picked up.

A detective’s voice greeted me.. Cool, clipped, precise.

“There’s been a development.”

Silence.

“We’d like you to come in.”