I gathered Clara into my arms, her small body weightless and frighteningly still. Each breath she took was a fragile whisper, fading more with every second.
“Please, Leonardo,” I choked out, my voice breaking under the weight of terror. “She needs you—our daughter needs you.”
Leonardo’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting between our child and the frail boy standing beside Ariana. Cristian. His son. I saw the turmoil twisting behind his gaze, the silent agony of a man forced to choose between two pieces of his soul.
Then he said it.
“I’m sorry, Luciana.”
The words cut through me like glass.
I shook my head, clutching Clara tighter. “No… you don’t mean that.”
But the look in his eyes told me he did.
He turned to Dr. Prietto. “Save Cristian.”
A broken sound escaped me—a sob that scraped my throat raw. “Leonardo—please—”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look my way.
The room exploded into motion. Doctors rushed to prepare the transfusion, their faces grim. His men stood silently nearby, witnesses to the moment their unshakable leader chose another child over his own.
I pressed my forehead to Clara’s, tears falling freely. “Mommy’s here, baby,” I whispered. “Stay with me.”
But she didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. Her hand slid from mine, and her body went still.
And just like that—everything went dark.
The world spun. Voices blurred. Someone tried to pull her from my arms, and I screamed.
“No! Don’t take her from me!” I thrashed, desperate, my voice breaking into shards.
Leonardo didn’t stop them. He just stood there, one hand resting on Cristian’s shoulder, while my world was ripped apart. And in that moment, I knew—whatever love I had left for him died with our daughter.
I would never forgive him. Not in this lifetime. Not in any other.
---
The funeral was small. Quiet.
Rain poured in thin, cold streams, soaking through my black dress, but I didn’t care. I just stood there, watching as the coffin—so small, too small—was lowered into the earth.
My tears had dried long before. All that remained inside me was emptiness. And hate.
Leonardo stood a few steps away, surrounded by his men like a wall of shadows. He hadn’t spoken a word to me since that night. He didn’t need to. His silence was answer enough.
The priest talked about peace, faith, God’s plan. I wanted to laugh. There was no plan—just loss. Just silence.
Then, movement caught my eye.
Leonardo stepped back, phone pressed to his ear, his expression cold as ever. A moment later, he turned and walked away. Didn’t even wait for the burial to end.
I didn’t need to ask who had called. I already knew. Ariana.
A bitter laugh tried to rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. He had left our daughter’s funeral for her.
I should have screamed. Should have demanded that he stay. But there was nothing left to fight for. So I let him go.
As the final shovel of dirt fell onto the coffin, I made myself a promise: I would never forgive him.
Because Ariana had already taken everything. She’d abandoned Leonardo once, only to crawl back after her husband’s death—and now, she had taken even more.
My husband. My child. My life.
And Leonardo—foolish, blind, heartless Leonardo—had let her.
---
I stayed long after everyone left. The cemetery was silent, save for the wind whispering through the trees. My legs trembled, my body numb, rainwater dripping from my hair, but I couldn’t move.
Memories came for me instead—slow, cruel waves pulling me under.
Leonardo.
He hadn’t always been a monster. Once, he had been the man who would have burned the world for me.
I remembered the night I was taken—ropes cutting into my wrists, the men’s laughter echoing through the dark.
Then came gunfire. Screams.
And him.
He stormed in like a vengeful god, eyes blazing, each bullet finding its mark. When it was over, he dropped his gun and pulled me close, his voice rough with fear.
“Did they hurt you?”
I shook my head, sobbing.
He held me tighter. “I’ll kill anyone who touches you, Luciana. I’ll burn this world down for you.”
A strangled laugh escaped me at the memory. He used to mean that.
Then came another flash—Leonardo lying in a hospital bed, pale and bleeding, his abdomen wrapped in bandages. He could barely stay conscious, yet still reached under his pillow and pulled out a small velvet box.
“Marry me,” he whispered, his lips quirking into that stubborn half-smile.
I gasped. “Leonardo—you were just shot.”
He chuckled weakly. “So you’ll say no to a dying man?”
I laughed through my tears. “You’re not dying, idiot.”
“Then say yes,” he murmured. “Because no matter what happens, you’re mine.”
My knees gave way as I remembered it all. The way he looked at me. The way he held Clara the day she was born, tears glimmering in his usually cold eyes.
“She’s perfect,” he whispered. “My little princess. I’ll protect her with my life.”
Lies. Every single word.
My fingers dug into the wet soil. The memories just kept coming.
Disneyland.
He’d rented out the entire park for Clara’s birthday. No tourists, no cameras—just us.
“Is this all for me, Daddy?” she asked, eyes wide with wonder.
He lifted her into the air, spinning her. “All for you, principessa.”
She giggled, clutching his neck. “Mommy too?”
He smiled. “Always Mommy too.”
That night, fireworks painted the sky. He wrapped his arms around me, murmuring against my ear, “This is my world—her laughter, your smile. You two are everything.”
I let out a hollow laugh. The words that once melted me now tasted like poison.
He had fought for us once. But when it truly mattered—when our daughter needed him most—he didn’t choose her.
He chose her.
Now I stood over Clara’s grave while he was probably in Ariana’s arms.
The fire inside me didn’t hurt anymore. It burned too deep for that.
And as the rain washed the mud from my hands, I realized—
Something inside me had died with her.
And it would never come back.
