Chapter 157: I Remember The Blood, The Bodies, The Pain

SANCIA

“Leave Giulia. He’s fucking crazy, go now!” I yelled.

“Signor, what is going on? Are you really–here?” she asked, incredulously, her voice trembling. “Where have you been? How are you alive? You're alive, aren't you? I’m not seeing things right?”

“Sì, Giulia. I’m not dead,” And just like that, Giulia threw away the only thing keeping us safe from the crazy asshole; she leaped into his arms like a koala, hugging him tight, mind you, while I was still under Lorenzo.

The traitor.

I get it, though. I knew how he and Luca were protective of her; they pretty much acted like overbearing protective brothers to her. And it’s clear she’s just so happy to see he’s not dead like we all thought. Lorenzo silently patted her hair and back.

“Can you both lift off of me?” I gritted.

“Oh. Signora, I’m so sorry,” Giulia scrambled back up, sniffling and wiping the tears on her face.

All my irritation with her melted away; I didn’t realize how much Lorenzo’s death and absence affected her until then.

“And you? Are you going to get off me, or are you still intent on killing me?” I said to the man still straddling me. Lorenzo kept his face blank as he smoothly got off me. I stood on my feet as he walked over to where the gun was under the dresser. He picked it up and tucked it into his pants.

“Kill you?” Giulia muttered, unbelievably, “Signora, what are you talking about? Why would he want to kill you?”

But then she seems to remember what the Marchetti family believes, that I was the one who shot Lorenzo, and that lie was the reason he came to finish me off. It’s a price I'm willing to pay, better me than for him or his soldiers to go after Isabella.

“Mama would have never come with you if she believed you killed Signore Lore…,” she said, her voice trailing off when I turned on the lights, and she finally took in the chaotic state I’m in and, of course, the room.

The bedsheets and pillows were haphazardly on the floor, zip ties with my blood on them, the bed lamp I'd knocked off when I first woke up, and the switchblade.

Giulia grabbed my hands, her eyes filled with worry as she looked over the bruises on my wrists. “Signore, I never took you for someone who would hurt a woman, much less your own wife,” she said, her voice trembling with concern.

Is shy Giulia speaking up for me against her capo?

But my shock was nothing compared to Lorenzo’s, who stared at us, his brows furrowed with confusion, then clenched his jaw, revealing a flicker of anger and pain beneath his calm exterior as he fought to control it.

“Giulia, where’s your mother? Where’s Zetta?”

“Mama is hiding in the storage room. When I heard Signora screaming, I grabbed the gun Luca gave me and came here. Mama tried to come, but I told her to take Dario and hide, in case it was enemies that found us.”

“Dario?” he asked, voice hoarse, staring at me like his world had just turned over its ass, those eyes filled with so much emotion I dare not try to understand.

“My son,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Our son.” The weight of this moment was overwhelming; I never thought I’d see this day-Dario seeing his father, and Lorenzo alive to meet his son.

He nodded. “Take me to him,” he muttered, “Take me to my son.”

My fists were clenched, but for once, I decided to let things slide for the sake of Dario, but after what just happened between us, we are far from being okay.

Because this man might look, sound, and act like Lorenzo, but he’s not my Lorenzo. This is the pre-Sancia, Lorenzo.

Even so, one thing that would never change is the knowledge that with or without memories, this is the man who killed my father, and for that, I would never be able to forgive him.

“Giulia, give us a moment, please,” I said, not looking away from diavolo. She nodded, walked out the door, and shut it behind her. I cross my hands on my chest.

“Dario is only two years and three months old, but he’s an inquisitive boy, so we’re going to have to set down some ground rules.” Lorenzo arched that arrogant brow way up, and I guess some things are still the same.

“You’ll keep your weapons or whatever far away from him,” I said, voice hard.

“He’s a Marchetti; whether he sees them now or later, it’s the same; this will be his life, just as it’s our life, but whatever.”

“You know what, I’m not even going to touch on that. The second thing is, I don’t want you cursing or anything around my child.”

“Our child,” he retorts. My brows shot up.

A short laugh escaped me. “Oh wow, look who’s talking, the ten-second dad. Did you forget you were just threatening our son a few minutes ago?”

He grimaced. “To scare you, I don’t hurt children or women, especially my own,” he gritted.

“Well, tell that to the bruises on my wrists, you wanted to kill me, Lorenzo,” I hiss.

“Because I believed you caused my condition, besides, I didn’t know who you were.”

“Now you don’t?”

“I still do, because I do remember. But I realize there are a lot of things that I don't remember, and the people around me have been keeping them from me.”

“Like the fact you’re a fucking liar who killed my family?” A pulse in his jaw ticked wildly. He’s pissed, and I should probably shut up, but I can’t control my impulses when it comes to this man.

“I don’t remember doing that, but if I did, we’re now even.”

Anger made me see red, “Even?” I sneered, “No, Lorenzo, we’re far from being even.”

Tears instantly welled in my eyes. “You killed my Papa. I begged you, I told you my family would never attack Fabio just like that, you ignored me and went ahead and killed them anyway.”

My tears broke free like a faucet: “You might not remember, but I did; I remember finding Papa in his own pool of blood.” The asshole was staring at me with a faraway look in his eyes.

“I remember the blood, the bodies, the pain. I remember everything, Lorenzo! After all this, do you honestly think we’ll ever be even?”

“Fabio didn’t die in an accident?” he asked, then grimaced, “Sancia, Carmello was….”

“Don’t you dare talk about my papa.” I was literally fuming. I wiped away my tears and stormed away before I could do something like reach for that switchblade and stab him.

“Let's just get this over with. Remember what I said: watch your language and keep your gun away from my son, are we clear?” I grabbed the doorknob and twisted. I glanced back when I heard a pained groan.

Lorenzo didn’t move an inch from where he was. Instead, he was clutching his head with his hands, his eyes bloodshot, and then I watched him go down, falling, falling, and falling, just like three years ago, and my heart instantly plummeted to the pit of my stomach. I caught him, but it sent us crashing to the floor.

“Lorenzo, what is wrong with you?” I yelled, shaking him, but he’s already unconscious, and I forget everything except the fear of losing him for the second time.

“Why are you like this? Fucking talk to me!”

“Giulia! Zetta!! Please help me, something is wrong,” I was screaming and slapping his face when they came rushing in.

“What happened to him?” Zetta asked, her voice filled with worry.

“Lorenzo his….I don’t….I don’t know; we need to take him to the hospital.”

“I’m calling the ambulance,” Zetta said, rushing out of the room. I completely broke down.