My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 670

Chapter 670

I did.

I understood exactly what I was doing.

I just didn’t know how to stop.

I saw him before he saw me.

He was sitting alone on one of the stone benches at the edge of the Capone cemetery. His black coat blended into the gray afternoon. His hat rested beside him.

His hands were folded over the top of his cane, though I knew he didn’t need it. He had always carried one when he met other Dons. It was part of the image.

Part of being Don Giovanni Toricelli.

Two Capone soldiers stood several yards behind him.

My feet started moving. Halfway there… I stopped.

Mom.

Her grave was only a few feet away. Fresh flowers still covered the stone. The soil hadn’t even settled yet.

I walked over to her instead. For a long moment, I simply stared at her name carved into the marble.

Hazel Capone.

Beloved Wife. Devoted Mother.

Loved Beyond Death.

It still didn’t feel real. I slowly crouched down. My fingertips brushed one of the white roses, “I’m sorry, Mom. I know you would’ve hated me for reaching out to him but I have to. I’m sorry.”

The words barely escaped my lips. I closed my eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing,” a lump settled in my throat. “I just… I need to know if I’ve been believing the wrong story all these years.”

The wind stirred softly through the cemetery. I stood again, looked at her one last time. Then turned toward the man waiting for me.

My father.

He looked down at his hands, as he spoke, “I looked for you for years. I never stopped. I hired investigators. I paid people who promised they knew where you were. I chased leads across three states.”

He rubbed one hand across his face. He looked toward the Capone estate in the distance.

“If I’d known the Capones were protecting you. I would’ve come years ago. I wasn’t staying away because I didn’t want you. I was staying away because I couldn’t find you. I want you to know that.”

His expression carried something I had never seen before, not authority, not the confidence of a Don. Just my daddy…

He looked older. There were lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there six years ago. His beard carried a little gray.

“I’ve imagined this moment thousands of times. I always thought I’d know what to say. I even imagined I’d spend the first five minutes scolding you for running away,” he let out a quiet breath and shook his head, “But the second I saw you none of those words mattered anymore.”

Without saying anything else, he gently took one of my hands between both of his palms. My fingers were ice cold. He rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand, trying to warm it.

He turned toward me fully, “You’re my daughter. You always have been and I’ve spent six years living with an empty seat at my table. I’ve buried men. I’ve lost friends. I’ve made enemies but none of it,” he shook his head, “. none of it came close to losing you.”

Something inside my chest shifted.

“I never wanted to send you away,” his jaw tightened, “I never wanted another city raising my little girl. You were always supposed to stand beside me. You belong to me. My name. My family. My legacy.”