Chapter 161: I Know Your Memory Is Back

SANCIA

My baby looked up at me for reassurance, his beautiful eyes filled with so much emotion for his little heart. I nodded, smiling softly at him.

He looked at Lorenzo, who waited patiently with his hand outstretched. Honestly, a part of me was expecting him to just straight out tell him ‘I’m Lorenzo, and I'm your father’ or something like that, even though Dario is young.

Instead, his voice dropped when he talked to him; his face was blank, but somehow softer than when he looked at me with all that intensity, and what’s more was the way he was patiently waiting for Dario.

Dario finally stretched his hand; Lorenzo’s face softened another fraction as both father and son shook hands for the first time. Something beautiful spreads through me; it feels like happiness.

“Dario, are these all your toys?” Lorenzo asked, and Dario nodded. “ Do you mind showing them to me? I've never had toys like these.” He glanced at me before looking back and nodding. He moved to his toys, and Lorenzo followed.

I faded into the background. Going back to my seat.

Diavolo just knelt there talking to Dario, who reluctantly answered his questions sometimes with a quick nod or shake of his head, other times verbally, as though he was shy while he showed him his toys.

To be honest, Dario isn't the most trusting child; he's not unfriendly, it just takes him a while to get used to someone he doesn't know and be friendly with them. But I’m so proud of him right now.

“It warms my heart to see these two wonderful souls finally meet each other,” Zetta whispered, dragging my eyes away from them. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, which she quickly wiped off.

While I understand how emotional she is right now, because I feel the same to some extent where Lorenzo was concerned, I can't help but snicker when I realize the other wonderful soul she's referring to is Diavolo.

“The only wonderful soul I see is Dario's,” I replied, “and you forget the devil does not have a soul.”

“Signora,” she chastised.

“It's the truth, Zetta; you don't see it because you already made a deal with the devil.” Zetta gasped, Giulia giggled, then quickly bit her lip when Lorenzo looked our way.

His eyes held mine with an intensity that made goosebumps break over my skin. I look away. But my eyes found him again as he listened, talking and strategically pulling Dario out of his shell. Once or twice, I’d even heard Dario giggle about something.

And that sound alone had my heart warming; Diavolo had grinned proudly as though he’d achieved something great, and maybe he had- who knows. It doesn't matter what’s between us, as long as he’s good to Dario, then I’ll play nice with him.

It was sometimes later that Zetta finally cut through my gawking at them.

“Signora, you should call them to come eat. Dinner is ready,” she said, nodding at them. I rose from my seat and approached them.

Lorenzo had taken off his coat jacket, leaving him in his black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone.

I never thought he was the kind to spend time playing and listening to kids play, but he'd not only played and listened. He'd sat down with Dario on the floor and somehow had even managed to get Dario to share his favorite toys with him.

And Dario is very protective of his toys, especially the ones he deems his favorite. And yet he'd let Lorenzo play with them.

My eyes flick to Dario, who looked more at ease as he showed another one of his treasured toys to his father. It's probably that fated bond between a son and his father that's at work.

“Come, baby, it’s time to put the toys away and have your lunch,” I called as I approached the two.

I sucked in a breath when they both raised their heads at the same time. It will take a while to get used to seeing them in the same place, and even so, I'll always be astonished at their resemblance.

Lorenzo and I help Dario pack his toy set back into the bag.

I went to take the bag, and Diavolo’s hand brushed mine before he grabbed my hand, dragging me closer. My breath hitched, my eyes flicking up to meet his.

“What are you…?”

“Momma, wash hands?” Dario’s voice cut through the tension. I yanked my hand free as I fled towards my son. I dragged him to the sink to wash his hands.

Then we make our way to the dinner table. I placed Dario in the high chair before sitting beside him.

Lorenzo pulled a chair across from me and sat down. His legs were bumping into mine beneath the table. Something I refuse to believe wasn't deliberate.

Dinner was mostly comfortable if you take away the underlying tension between Diavolo and me about the inevitable conversation.

Both of us kept a friendly atmosphere, trying to set a precedent for Dario. No matter what, I don't want his childhood to be built on violence and disputes, no matter how little.

It was an hour later when we finally got the opportunity to talk. Dario had gone to sleep ten minutes ago; he'd started yawning almost as soon as he was done having his dinner.

With his permission, Lorenzo had joined us for our nightly routine. Diavolo had watched me like a hawk while I helped Dario brush his teeth, change into his pajamas, and then tucked him in.

Dario had chatted sleepily through it all, and just as we were about to leave the room, he'd looked at Lorenzo, his eyes so much like his, and asked if he'd come back tomorrow.

“I will, Dario, I'll always be here for you,” Lorenzo replied. With a smile, Dario had shut his eyes and dozed off.

The weight and significance of what Lorenzo said settled between us as we walked back downstairs.

That was until Lorenzo, we were on the last step of the stairs, and I couldn't hold my tongue any longer. I glanced at him and blurted. “You lied to me.”

He turned to face me, hands in his pockets. That dark, perfect brow arched. “What are you talking about?”

I glared at him. “I know your memory is back,” I hissed. “Why the hell would you hide it from me?”

Honestly, I have no proof of whether he'd recover his memories; at this point, suspicion is all I've got.

But there was a moment when we were talking during dinner that I could have sworn he'd call me Mia Tigre, and then he'd quickly clear his throat when I narrowed my eyes at him.

“What makes you think I've regained my memories?” he asked.

He moved closer, deliberately, and I stood my ground even as my throat instantly went dry as a desert. He was so close that he blocked everything out of view.

Lorenzo stroked my cheek with familiar reverence, tracing my jawline with his thumbs before rubbing my lower lip with its pad.

“What?” he murmured, leaning closer.

His eyes hooded when my breath hitched, and I swallowed. “The look in your eyes,” I whispered.

“And?” His hand slipped down to my neck, cupped the back of my head, and tilted my head up.

“You've.” My eyes darted between his dark, hungry eyes. “Changed, no animosity, no hate, only…”

“Only what?” he challenged.

Only raw, unadulterated need that excites me as much as it frightens me. He leans even closer, his lips barely an inch away from mine.

But that part of me that's loyal to Papa wouldn't let me allow myself even a kiss without knowing the truth. I planted my hands on his chest and pushed him back.

“You called me Mia Tigre,” I said, rounding him to stand in the middle of the living room. He turned around and pushed one hand into his pocket.

To my surprise, instead of denying it, he just sighed, scratching the bridge of his nose. “I wasn't hiding it, just delaying it until I decided my next course of action.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “Do you intend to attack my family for what happened back then? And what exactly happened then, because I don't understand anything and nobody would say a single word about it,” I rambled.

“You admitted to shooting Papa right before Isabella shot you? So I'm asking again, "Did you or did you not kill my father.”

Something dark flashed over his eyes, his jaw clenched so hard it made my heart hammer in my chest.

“I didn't kill Carmello, but I did accidentally shoot him,” he replied.

I shake my head, brows creasing with confusion.

“What are you even saying? How can I believe you didn’t attack Papa? You were so blinded by rage that you wouldn't even listen to me.”

“I couldn't kill him because he’s your father,” he growls, shaking my shoulder.

“Because no matter how bad I wanted to avenge Fabio, I wanted your happiness even more. I never want to hurt you in that way.”

I was frozen in place at the raw sincerity in his voice and the blatant love in his eyes.

His voice dropped with a rare show of sadness, “And because Carmello was already dying and not even I kicked a dying man.”

“Don't lie to me; you killed him, butchered him up like cattle,” I screamed. “You are the only sick person who uses a sword to kill people. You hated Papa so you killed him.”

“And that right there is the reason why someone went the extra mile to use a sword on your Papa, so you'll think it's me,” he growled.

“But the truth is I didn't kill Carmello; I would never do that to you? Your father had cancer, Mia Tigre. He told me on his birthday, right after he asked me to divorce you. He was already dying.”

A cold sense of foreboding slid down the length of my spine, my brows furrowed even as I shook my head.

“No! You’re lying, Papa didn’t have cancer; he couldn’t have.” Lorenzo just watched me with a solemn kind of sadness, and something inside me broke.

“Mama would have told me if that were true,” I deny, my voice cracking.

“Not if he stopped her from telling anyone,” he said calmly.