Caius pushed through the crowd and walked toward the steps.
All the reporters‘ cameras swiveled to him.
“Don Falcieri! How do you respond to these allegations?”
“Are you really abandoning your own
child?”
“Is the Falcieri family facing a succession crisis?”
Caius ignored all of them.
He walked straight up to Livia and looked down at her.
“Enough.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it silenced the entire crowd.
“Are you done with this performance?”
Livia clutched the baby tighter, fear flashing in her eyes.
“Caius, I’m just trying to get our son what he deserves…”
“What he deserves?” Caius sneered. “A child you sired with Silas Romano. Tell me, what claim does his bastard have on my
name?”
The crowd erupted in a wave of gasps and murmurs.
Reporters frantically snapped photos.
The Madre’s face went pale.
“Caius! What are you saying?”
“I’m telling the truth, Madre,” Caius turned to her. “This woman fooled us all.”
“The baby’s father is Silas Romano, our former CFO.”
“I have the DNA report. I have the recordings.”
He waved to his bodyguards.
“Escort them out. Get them out of my sight. Now.”
The reporters tried to ask more questions, but the Falcieri bodyguards had already formed a human wall.
Caius walked into the tower without a backward glance.
Three months later.
Livia sat alone in a run–down apartment, a crying infant in her arms.
Her savings had run out.
Silas had vanished with the money, and she hadn’t heard from him since.
The Falcieri family refused to acknowledge the child, and she had been utterly cast out.
Her landlord was hounding her for rent every day.
The neighbors pointed and whispered.
1/4
The news was still replaying footage of that day, of her pathetic, weeping figure on the steps.
“Mommy will fix this,” she whispered to the crying baby, a wild, manic light in her eyes. “If we can’t have a happy ending,
then no one will.”
She dialed the Madre’s
“Madre Falcieri,” Livia’s
weak and desperate. “I’ve thought it over. I’m willing to leave New York for good.”
“I only ask that Caius see the baby one last time.”
On the other end of the line, the Madre was silent for a few seconds.
“Where are you?”
“Safe house twelve in the old wharf district,” Livia said. “Tell him we’ll be gone tomorrow. We’ll never come back.”
The next evening, Caius drove to the safe house alone.
It was one of the family’s abandoned properties, remote and rarely used.
He pushed open the
rusted iron door. The air inside was dim and damp.
“Livia?” he called into the darkness.
“In here.”
Livia’s voice came from the back.
Caius walked further in and saw her sitting in a corner, the sleeping infant in her arms.
“You came,” she said softly, a strange calm on her face.
“I thought you should see him, even if… even if he isn’t yours.”
Caius moved closer, looking down at the small life.
Even knowing the truth, a complicated emotion stirred in his heart.
“Will he have a good life?”
“He will,” Livia nodded. “Let me pour you a drink. A farewell toast.”
She stood up and took a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from a table.
“It’s your favorite brand.”
Caius took the glass and downed it in one go.
The whiskey had a bitter, chemical aftertaste, but in his grief, he barely noticed.
“Livia,” he said, setting the glass down. “I think I should apologize. We both made mistakes, but…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. A powerful waye of dizziness hit him.
His vision started to blur, and his body swayed.
“You…” he looked at Livia, his eyes wide with shock.
A cold smile spread across Livia’s face.
“A little something to help you sleep. A dose strong enough for a Falcieri.”
Caius collapsed to the floor, his consciousness fading.
“Why…”
