Chapter 173 – A Father’s Regret
Chapter 173 – A Father’s Regret
The intensive care wing was quieter than any battlefield.
There were no gunshots.
No explosions.
No shouted commands.
Only the rhythmic beeping of heart monitors and the hushed footsteps of nurses moving through dimly lit corridors.
Yet to Elena…
This silence was far more frightening.
Every sound reminded her that life could disappear in an instant.
Matteo Moretti had survived the surgery.
Barely.
The bullets had missed his heart by centimeters, but they had left devastating damage behind. He had lost too much blood, and the doctors could promise nothing beyond the next few hours.
They had done all they could.
The rest depended on him.
Elena had refused to leave.
For two days, she remained beside his bed.
She barely slept.
She barely ate.
She simply held her father’s hand whenever the nurses allowed it.
Damian stayed close, never asking her to leave.
He knew there were conversations that belonged only to a daughter and her father.
Outside the room, Lucian sat quietly with Malik in the hospital garden.
The little boy had stopped asking when Grandpa Matteo would wake up.
Instead, he drew pictures.
One showed three generations standing together beneath a large olive tree.
Malik looked at it and smiled.
“That’s beautiful.”
Lucian nodded.
“Grandpa promised we’d plant one together.”
His smile faded.
“I hope he remembers.”
Inside the hospital room, the afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains.
Elena had fallen asleep in the chair beside the bed, her hand still resting in Matteo’s.
A faint squeeze woke her.
She opened her eyes immediately.
“Papa?”
Matteo’s eyelids fluttered open.
They were tired.
Clouded with pain.
But unmistakably awake.
A weak smile crossed his face.
“You still call me that.”
he whispered.
Elena’s eyes filled with tears.
“I always will.”
She pressed the call button for the doctors.
Matteo gently stopped her.
“Later.”
he murmured.
“First…”
“I need my daughter.”
Elena nodded.
She sat closer to him.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Words seemed too small for everything that lay between them.
Years of distance.
Misunderstandings.
Silence.
Love left unspoken.
Finally, Matteo broke the silence.
“When you were little…”
he said weakly,
“…you used to hide behind your mother’s dress whenever you were scared.”
A small laugh escaped Elena through her tears.
“You always found me.”
“I always would.”
he replied.
He looked toward the window.
“I thought protecting you meant teaching you to hate.”
His voice trembled.
“I filled your childhood with stories about enemies.”
“I taught you suspicion before trust.”
“I mistook fear for strength.”
Elena shook her head gently.
“You believed you were protecting me.”
“I was protecting my pride.”
Matteo corrected softly.
“And I almost lost my daughter because of it.”
His breathing became labored.
The monitor beside him quickened.
Elena reached for his hand.
“You don’t have to do this now.”
“Yes.”
he answered.
“I’ve delayed this conversation for far too long.”
The door opened quietly.
Damian stepped inside.
He had intended to check on them and leave.
Instead, Matteo looked directly at him.
“Stay.”
he said.
“This concerns you too.”
Damian hesitated before walking to the bedside.
Matteo studied the younger man for several seconds.
“When I first heard your name…”
he began,
“…I hated you before we ever met.”
Damian remained silent.
“I saw your father’s face every time I looked at you.”
Matteo continued.
“I never gave you the chance to become your own man.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“When Elena disappeared…”
“I blamed you.”
“When Lucian was born…”
“I blamed you.”
“When everything fell apart…”
“I blamed you.”
He looked back at Damian.
“The truth…”
“…is that I was angry with myself.”
Damian swallowed hard.
“You don’t owe me an apology.”
“I do.”
Matteo replied.
“I judged you by your surname.”
“I forgot that sons should never inherit their fathers’ sins.”
The words settled heavily over the room.
Elena glanced at Damian.
She saw emotion she had rarely witnessed.
The hard edges around him had disappeared.
He wasn’t standing before an enemy.
He was standing before the father of the woman he loved.
Matteo slowly reached toward Damian.
His trembling hand remained suspended in the air.
Without hesitation, Damian took it.
“I failed your father too.”
Matteo whispered.
“We were brothers once.”
“We should have protected each other.”
A tear escaped the corner of his eye.
“Instead…”
“We buried each other’s children.”
Damian’s own eyes glistened.
“The war stole all of us.”
he said quietly.
“No.”
Matteo replied.
“We allowed it to.”
Silence filled the room again.
Not an uncomfortable silence.
A healing one.
A gentle knock came at the door.
Lucian peeked inside.
“Can I see Grandpa?”
he asked softly.
Elena smiled through her tears.
“Come here.”
Lucian climbed carefully onto the bed beside Matteo.
The old man smiled wider than he had since waking.
“There’s my little lion.”
Lucian held up his drawing.
“I made this.”
Matteo looked at the picture carefully.
There they were.
Elena.
Damian.
Lucian.
And Matteo standing beneath an olive tree.
“You forgot someone.”
Matteo teased gently.
Lucian frowned.
“Who?”
“Your grandma.”
Matteo said with a warm smile.
“She’d be very upset.”
Lucian giggled.
“I’ll draw her too.”
Matteo laughed softly, but the effort made him cough.
Elena immediately steadied him.
He squeezed her hand.
“I’ve wasted too many years.”
he whispered.
“I missed birthdays.”
“I missed your graduation.”
“I missed the day my grandson was born.”
His eyes brimmed with regret.
“I kept waiting for the perfect time to make things right.”
He shook his head weakly.
“There never is one.”
Elena leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
“You still have time.”
she whispered.
“We’ll plant that olive tree.”
“We’ll celebrate birthdays.”
“You’ll tell Lucian embarrassing stories about me.”
A faint smile returned to Matteo’s face.
“I’d like that.”
The heart monitor suddenly emitted a sharp warning tone.
Doctors rushed into the room.
“Nurse!”
“His pressure is dropping.”
Everyone stepped back as the medical team surrounded the bed.
Elena clutched Damian’s hand tightly.
The doctors worked quickly.
Minutes felt like hours.
Finally, the monitor settled into a steadier rhythm.
Dr. Ricci exhaled slowly.
“He’s stable.”
He looked at Elena.
“But only just.”
As the doctors left, Matteo opened his eyes once more.
He looked first at Lucian.
Then at Elena.
Finally at Damian.
“I don’t know…”
he said softly,
“…how much time I have.”
“But hear me now.”
He gathered what little strength remained.
“You are no longer two families.”
He looked at Damian and Elena together.
“You are one.”
His gaze rested on Lucian.
“And he…”
A tired smile spread across his face.
“…is proof that love can succeed where pride failed.”
Outside the room, Salvatore watched through the glass.
Marco joined him.
“Do you think he’ll make it?”
Marco asked.
Salvatore remained silent for a long moment.
“I don’t know.”
he admitted.
“But whether he lives another day…”
“…or another twenty years…”
He looked through the window at the reunited family.
“He finally became the father Elena deserved.”
Far away, in the shadows of his headquarters, Alessandro Vieri received the report that Matteo had regained consciousness.
“He apologized?”
he asked.
“Yes.”
the adviser replied.
Alessandro’s expression darkened.
“How disappointing.”
He turned away from the screen.
“Regret heals wounds.”
he murmured.
“And healed families…”
His cold eyes narrowed.
“…are much harder to destroy.”