Chapter 95

Lisa’s POV

The moment I stepped back into the house, the weight of everything crashed down on me again . So suffocating. The walls, now felt like they were closing in, trapping me in a reality I wasn’t ready to face. Each breath I took carried the familiar scent of home even though father maltreated me, yet it no longer felt like home. It felt foreign to me.

The run through the woods should have helped. I had hoped it would clear my mind, let me make sense of the chaos unraveling around me. But it hadn’t. If anything, it had only drained me further, leaving me raw, exposed.

And yet, nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for what was waiting for me inside.

Mike stood near the staircase, his face grim. His usual confident stance was replaced by something uncertain, something fragile. The moment our eyes met, I knew something was wrong.

"Mike?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t help it.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Lisa... it's Dad."

Something cold slithered through my veins. "What about him?"

Mike exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "He's dead."

The room spun.

"No," she whispered.

Luke emerged from the hallway, his expression just as grave. "It happened not long after you left. He was weak, Lisa. He barely had the strength to speak, but he mange to write."

She didn’t want to hear it.

She shook her head, stepping back, away from them. Her body refused to process the words. He couldn’t be dead. Not now. Not after everything.

Mike held up a folded piece of paper. "He left this for you."

The paper in Mike’s hand felt heavier than it should. My fingers refused to move, my feet stayed rooted to the floor.

"Lisa," Mike’s voice was softer now, cautious. "You should read it."

I shook my head. "No."

His brows furrowed. "Lisa—"

"I said no!" My voice cracked, my breath uneven.

Luke shifted uncomfortably beside Mike, his gaze flickering between me and the letter. "He wanted you to know—"

"I don’t care what he wanted," I cut him off, my voice shaking. "He’s dead. There’s nothing left to say."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Mike exhaled through his nose and looked down at the letter. "He asked for your forgiveness, Lisa."

I let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a broken sob. "Forgiveness?" My eyes burned as I met his. "He spent his whole life lying, ruining everything he touched, and now—now that he’s dead—I’m just supposed to... what? Forgive him? Let him rest in peace?" I collected the letter to see what he wrote .

His handwriting was weak, shaky. As if writing this had drained him of the last of his strength.

\---

My daughter, my blood,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I ask for it anyway. Not for me, but for you. Holding onto hatred will only burn you from the inside. I don’t want that for you.

I have made mistakes—terrible mistakes. But I have always loved you.

Hunter, my son. I wronged you before you were even born. I abandoned your mother, and I abandoned you. I don’t expect you to call me father, but I hope one day, you will find peace in knowing that my regret was real. If I could turn back time, I would have done things differently.

Lisa, I named you after your mother because she was the greatest love of my life. But I betrayed her too. If she were here, I know she would tell you to choose love over pain. I hope you listen to her memory more than you listen to the mistakes I made.

I am sorry.

\---

My chest heaved, my breath coming too fast.

Hunter stepped forward, his voice low, steady. "Lisa, take a breath."

I shot him a glare. "Don’t."

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue.

Mike sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn’t for him, Lisa. It’s for you."

"Me?" I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, that’s rich. He destroyed everything, and now I have to be the bigger person? The better person?"

Luke’s expression was unreadable. "Holding onto this anger won’t change what happened."

I turned away from them, squeezing my eyes shut. But that was a mistake. Because all I saw was him. The man I had spent my entire life trying to understand. The man who had stolen my choices, my future, my love.

The man who was now gone.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and faced them again. "Where is he?"

Mike hesitated.

"Where?" I repeated, voice hoarse.

"In his room," Luke finally answered.

I forced my feet forward, ignoring the way my body screamed at me to stop.

The hallway felt endless. Each step echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls, filling the empty spaces he had left behind.

When I reached his door, I hesitated. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle.

The door creaked open.

And there he was.

Giovanni lay still, his face pale, his body unmoving. He looked... smaller. As if death had stolen more than just his life, but his presence, too.

I took a shaky step inside.

My father. My tormentor. My betrayer.

And now, just a lifeless body.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

"Why now?" My voice was barely a whisper.

No answer. Of course not.

Tears burned the back of my eyes. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to leave me with all this mess and just—just die."

My hands trembled as I reached out, then stopped short.

I didn’t know what I was expecting. Maybe for him to wake up, to explain, to make it right. But there was nothing left to fix.

A shaky breath left my lips. "You don’t deserve forgiveness."

My voice wavered.

I hated him. I should hate him.

But looking at him now—so still, so empty—hate didn’t feel like enough.

"You were supposed to be my father," I whispered. "You were supposed to protect me. Not... this. Not this."

The weight in my chest was unbearable.

A warm presence filled the doorway behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Hunter.

"Lisa."

Just my name. Just that.

I inhaled sharply, trying to steady myself. But when I spoke, my voice betrayed me.

"He wanted your forgiveness too," I said, staring at Giovanni’s unmoving form. "For abandoning you. For leaving your mother alone."

Hunter stepped into the room, his movements careful, deliberate.

His voice was quiet. "He wasn’t a father to me."

I turned to face him. "Then why are you here?"

His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something deep, something that made my breath hitch.

"Because he was still a part of my story," Hunter murmured. "Whether I like it or not."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. "And what? You think standing here will bring you closure?"

He exhaled. "I think standing here reminds me that I’m not him."

The words hit harder than I expected.

Hunter wasn’t Giovanni. He wasn’t the man who had left destruction in his wake. He wasn’t a liar, a coward, a betrayer.

And neither was I.

I looked back at Giovanni one last time.

Then I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

"Goodbye, Dad."

Not "I forgive you." Not "I understand." Just... goodbye.

I turned and walked past Hunter. And for the first time since I had stepped into that house, I felt like I could breathe again.