Chapter 43- The mess of it all.

Resemblance?! 

To Alexander? 

Then that meant Alexander was just as bad as my father was.

Even worse.

"He is. His mother was my father's former secretary. Apparently she is from a high rank clan too."

Uncle Brett nodded solemnly. 

"I could tell he was George's. I'm sorry about that. I'm sure your father kept news of him secret too." 

"I found out after his death. Alex was blackmailing him. He said there's some big family secret that he's going to expose if I don't do as he says."

Uncle Brett sighed. 

"Don't let him hold that against you. You may be a Fontana but your father's secrets are not yours to protect. Live far away from all this and live a full and happy life like your mother would have wanted you to." 

The air felt thick, and the faint scent of antiseptic lingered. I turned to Nicholas who gave me a reassuring nod. 

"Uncle Brett," I said softly, my voice catching as I spoke. "Come with us."

His eyes flickered, and he finally turned, studying me for a moment. There was surprise, but it was tinged with something deeper—fear, resignation.

"When I came here, I came here fully with the intention to bring you home," I said, forcing a smile. "Please, come with us. We can take care of you. I'll protect you, and so will Nicholas."

Uncle Brett's face tightened, and he shook his head slowly. "You don't understand, Cleo. This is my home now. Out there... it's not safe for me."

"But it is safe," I insisted, my voice trembling. "My father is dead. He cannot hurt you. We've prepared everything. Nicholas and I made sure of it. You don't have to stay here, locked away from the world. I know it's hard, but you're not alone. We'll be with you every step of the way."

He looked down, his fingers twisting a frayed piece of fabric on his shirt. "You don't know what it's like, Cleo. In here, the walls... they keep everything out. Out there, everything's louder, faster, years and years of running and I don't think I can live a normal life without looking over my shoulders. I can't handle it." He turned away, his gaze drifting back to the window. "I'm where I belong."

I fought back the tears that were beginning to well up. "Uncle Brett, please... You can start fresh, go to a new country. You don't have to be afraid anymore. You have me, you have Nicholas. We'll make sure nothing happens to you."

But he shook his head again, a slight, sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You have a good heart, Cleo, always trying to fix things. But some things... some things can't be fixed."

The finality in his words hit me like a stone. I reached out, taking his hand in mine, feeling the roughness of his skin, the fragility of his bones. "I just wanted you to be free," I whispered, barely able to hold back my tears.

"Freedom isn't for everyone," he murmured, his voice soft and resigned. "Sometimes, we choose our own cages."

I nodded slowly, pressing his hand one last time. There was nothing left to say, no more arguments to make. I felt Nicholas's arm slip around my shoulders, guiding me gently toward the door. I looked back, hoping for some final reassurance, but Uncle Brett had already turned away, staring out the window, lost once more in a world only he could see.

As Nicholas and I walked down the sterile corridor and out of the building, a sense of finality settled over me.

........

The aroma of roasted coffee beans filled the air, comforting yet somehow making the weight of my thoughts feel even heavier. I sat across from Nicholas, his gaze soft but troubled as he waited for me to speak. I swirled my coffee, watching the steam rise and disappear. My voice felt thick as I finally broke the silence.

"I can't believe it, Nicholas," I said, almost to myself. "All my life, I've looked up to him. I thought my father was this... untouchable figure. An idol. And now? Finding out he forced my mother to marry him... What else am I supposed to uncover?"

Nicholas's hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine, a grounding warmth. "I am also in shock. Your father... I looked up to him. I thought he was a good man. I thought of him as family.... I guess the thirst for power makes people do a lot of things, Cleo. Things that don't make sense to us, maybe, but in their mind... it is justified."

I shook my head, feeling the weight of so many truths I never asked to know. "Nothing justifies what he did to my mother. Or his own brother! Did you see the scars on him? I will never forget that." 

"....But where does the lie end, Nicholas? How much more am I supposed to dig up? Every piece of this makes me feel like I'm losing parts of who I thought I was." My words trembled as I spoke, a flood of anger and hurt colliding within me.

"You don't have to keep digging," he said gently. "Not now. You're allowed to take a break, to let it settle. You don't have to solve it all today. We don't have to keep going on these quests to try and uncover the truth. We can just focus on the present and focus only on kicking your brother out of the company and our lives." 

I let out a shaky breath. The walls of this little coffee shop felt close, as if they too were listening to secrets that had no place here. "I just... I can't reconcile the father I grew up with and this man who could manipulate someone's entire life just to fit his idea of a perfect family."

"Sometimes," Nicholas said, his voice a steady anchor, "we don't really know people until we see them stripped down to their rawest parts. Your father was capable of love, I'm sure of it, but he also was willing to twist that love into something else to get what he wanted. It doesn't make him less of a father, but it does make him... flawed."

My eyes burned, and I looked away, watching strangers come and go outside. They were blissfully unaware of the chaos consuming me, unaware of how much I wished for even a moment of their simplicity. How I wish I wasn't burdened with everything I knew. With everything that I found out. I was exhausted—exhausted from trying to understand, to make sense of things I couldn't change.

Nicholas squeezed my hand. "Come on. Let's get you home. You don't need to carry this all right now. There will be time to make sense of it when you're ready."

I nodded, my heart too heavy to argue. Maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to let it rest, even if I didn't know how. As we stood and stepped back into the world, I realized that, for now, this was enough—to simply have someone willing to stand beside me in the mess of it all.