How terrified must my son have been in his final moments? Holding back the lump in my throat, I sat beside my boy and gently asked, "Nico, how have your mother and your nonna been treating you lately?"
He replied with a bright, innocent smile, "They've been really good to me, Papa."
I paused momentarily before continuing, "And the man who watches over you? How does he treat you?"
"He's great! He takes good care of me at the safehouse!" His response was natural and straightforward, his small face glowing with happiness. He was the whole future of the Falcone bloodline, and he didn't know it, and that was the mercy of him.
Then he blinked his big, bright eyes, looking confused. "Papa, I don't feel sick today. Why aren't we going?"
I stroked his soft cheek, my heart aching. "Because Papa can't bear to be apart from you."
In my past life, delivering him into the handler's care that day had led to his mysterious drowning. This time, I wouldn't let anything happen to him. After breakfast, my son sat in the front room, watching cartoons while I cleared the table and washed the dishes. Halfway through, my phone rang. It was the handler. "Signor Falcone, why hasn't your boy come in today? Is he unwell?"
My heart clenched when I heard the exact words as in my previous life. Walking toward the front room, I responded politely, "Forgive me, Salvatore. Nico isn't feeling well today. I was just about to call and let you know ..."
My voice caught in my throat. The couch where my son had been just moments ago was empty. He was gone. A surge of panic overwhelmed me. I pressed my thumb hard into the center of my left palm, that phantom ache of iron rising, and I hung up and frantically searched the house. I called his name over and over, looking in every possible hiding spot.
Alas, the house was silent. He was nowhere to be found. No one answered me. Terror gripped my heart. The memories of my past life came rushing back like a nightmare, making my legs weak and my vision blur.
With trembling hands, I hastily dialed for help. Just like before, they found my son's body in the pond near the estate. I ran to the water like a madman, watching in disbelief as they pulled my lifeless child from it. No soldier at the gate had moved to stop it. The whole world had stood aside and let it happen again.
Just minutes ago, he had been smiling so sweetly at me. Now, he was cold and pale, a motionless thing. I felt like I had fallen into an icy abyss, unable to breathe. My legs gave out and I stumbled forward, clutching his tiny body.
I held him tightly, desperately trying to warm his freezing skin with my own body heat. I choked out his name between sobs, begging him to wake up. Unfortunately, no matter how much I called, no matter how tightly I held him, my son never opened his eyes.
Realizing that he was gone once again, an unbearable pain tore through me. Why? Why had I done everything differently this time, fought to keep him at my side and still failed to save him? Why, no matter what I did, couldn't I protect my own child?
The agony consumed me, draining me of even the strength to cry. Carmela and Serafina arrived in a panic after hearing the news. When they saw my son lying lifeless in my arms, Carmela let out a gut-wrenching wail.
She rushed forward, shoving me aside and clutching him tightly in her embrace, one hand still white-knuckled around the crucifix at her throat. "Nico, my sweet grandson. I was only gone a little while to see the doctor. How could this happen?"
Tears streamed down Serafina's face as she trembled uncontrollably, twisting the wedding band around her finger without knowing she did it. "Nico! Wake up, baby. Please don't scare Mama like this. Are you angry with Mama for not taking you today? Please, wake up. I'm sorry! I'll do anything, just please, open your eyes!"
