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And watched his father slowly die in front of him.
Why, dammit, why?
"I'm so, so sorry."
It was only when his wife shakily reached up to wipe his tears that he realized he was crying.
"He's a monster," Lorenzo said tightly. "There's nothing to be sorry about."
"He was also your father, Renzo. And no person would ever want to kill their father."
"That's also what people say about fathers who have killed their own sons," he pointed out bitterly. "But do you really think that's also true for him?"
"You're right, of course," she whispered. "I can't say the same thing about your father. But that's only because he was no longer in his right mind the moment he hurt your mother—-"
"He raped her, Gazelle!"
"I know."
"That fuck!"
"I'm sorry, Lorenzo."
Her arms slowly wrapped around him, and as he buried his face against her neck, his tears flowed fucking freely like he was a little boy again.
"I'm so, so sorry this had to happen to you," his wife said brokenly. "But you can't keep forcing yourself to hate him."
So this is why.
"Forgive him, Lorenzo."
And as his wife cried with him—-
"Forgive him. And start living again. Please."
He finally understood he had it all wrong.
All this time, he had always believed that Potenziana Marchetti had secretly arranged for his pardon for Gazelle's sake.
All this time, he had believed that the old woman only saw Lorenzo as her sacrificial lamb to use, in case war broke out, and she needed someone who would give up his life to protect his granddaughter.
But now he knew it was the other way around.
And instead of him saving Gazelle—-
Potenziana had chosen him because she knew it was his granddaughter alone who could save his soul.
Journal Entry
Mafia monstera, n.
A rare species of famiglia that's capable of erubescence
"I'LL DRIVE YOU TO SCHOOL," Lorenzo says quite casually after breakfast.
It's only been a week since I came to live with my husband, and if not for Giancarlo still missing, this could've easily been the best week of my life.
Every day with my beast is a revelation, and I just never know what to expect from him. He's gentle one moment, ravenous the next. He makes me laugh without trying, but he can also make me cry just by being himself. The only constant thing about Lorenzo is his need for me. He can't seem to help touching me. And I wouldn't want it any other way, which is why I hate the fact that it's time for me to go back to school.
