Chapter 110 Decisions
GIOVANNI’S POV
"That's it." Enzo's arm came around my shoulders, supporting my weight. "Everyone, give us some space. Gio, come on. Let's get you upstairs."
I let him guide me because my legs weren't working properly anymore.
"My child," I kept saying. "Enzo, my child is out there."
He squeezed my arm. "I know. We'll find them. Both of them."
We reached my room and he steered me toward the bed. I collapsed onto it, my head in my hands.
"But Claire is right, the probability of finding her after this long-“ he broke off, shaking his head.
"Jo." I looked up at him. "Don't tell me it's impossible."
"I was going to say it's slim," he said quietly. "Very slim.”
"She has my child inside her!" The words came out as a roar. "I don't care how slim the odds are. We will find her and bring her home. Whatever it takes."
Enzo studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. We'll expand the search and bring in more resources. I’ll make sure we visit hospitals, clinics, anywhere a pregnant woman might need care."
"Thank you," I managed.
"But Gio,” he paused, running his tongue along his teeth. “You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that even if we find her, she might not want to come back."
The thought was a knife to the gut. "She has to. She's carrying my-"
"She ran away from you once already while pregnant.” He whispered. “That tells you how bad things were."
"I know." The admission felt like choking. "I know what I did.”
Enzo's hand squeezed my shoulder. "We'll find them and you'll have a chance to make this right."
"What if it's too late?" I whispered.
A sigh left his mouth. "Then you'll spend the rest of your life trying anyway." He moved toward the door. "Get some rest. I'll start making calls."
After he left, I just sat there, staring at my bloody hand.
My child was growing inside Arya, and I didn't even know if they were safe.
I stood to my feet and started pacing, unable to stay still.
What if she tried to terminate the pregnancy? What if she was sick and had no one to help her?
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I sighed.
"Come in," I said without stopping my pacing.
Jasmine entered, carrying a first aid kit. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she had a gentle smile on her face.
"Your hand," she said simply. "It needs proper care."
I looked down at the cut across my palm, still seeping blood. I had forgotten about it.
"I'm fine." Came my disgruntled response.
She gave me a hard stare. "Sit down, Giovanni." Her tone left no room for argument. "Please."
I sat on the edge of the bed while she pulled up a chair. Her hands were steady as she cleaned the wound, applied antiseptic, ans wrapped it in gauze.
"She has a strong spirit, you know," Jasmine said quietly, not looking up from her work. "Arya. I saw it the first time I met her."
I didn't trust myself to speak.
"That kind of spirit is resilient and it survives." She tied off the bandage. "But it can also be broken. And the worst thing someone can do is break that kind of spirit deliberately."
I knew what she was implying and it was working. But I kept my mouth sealed shut.
"She trusted you," Jasmine continued, finally meeting my eyes. "Even when everyone else had turned against her, she still looked at you like you hung the moon. And you…"
"I broke her," I finished hoarsely. "I know. I know what I did."
She smiled tightly. "Then you know what you have to do now." She stood, gathering the first aid supplies. "Find her and spend every day for the rest of your life proving that you can be the man she believed you were."
I shook my head. "What if I can't?
"Then you try anyway." She moved toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "That baby didn't ask to be brought into this world. Neither did Arya ask to fall in love with you. But both of those things happened so you figure out how to be worthy of them."
She left, closing the door softly behind her and the silence pressed down on me.
I fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling through blurred vision.
When had I become this person? This monster who hurt the people he loved?
A sob caught in my throat, then another and I tried to hold them back, but it was useless.
The dam had broken, and everything I had been holding back for two months came pouring out.
I cried for Arya and the man I used to be, before revenge and hatred consumed everything good inside me. I cried for my mother and father, whose deaths had set all of this in motion.
But mostly, I cried for what I had destroyed with my own hands.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the empty room. "I'm so fucking sorry."
The words came again and again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Outside my door, I heard footsteps pause, then move away quietly but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I curled onto my side, the bandaged hand pressed against my chest, and let the tears come until there was nothing left inside me but emptiness and the desperate need to find her.
If it wasn't already too late.
Please, I prayed to a God I wasn't sure I believed in anymore. Please let me have one more chance to make this right.
The room offered no answers and I realized that I couldn't blame her.
I could only hope that somehow, I would get the chance to prove I could be better and that I could be the father this child deserved.
"I'll find you," I promised the silence. "I'll find you both and I'll spend the rest of my life making this right."
Even if she never forgave me. I would make sure our child was safe, cared for, and loved.
It was the least I could do after everything I took from them.