Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
The truth was, until further proof, I was travelling with the enemy.
My father’s unread email came to mind and I decided to read it.
One of the flight attendants came over with refreshments and appetizers. I pushed my glasses up to sit on the top of my head. I wasn't hungry and was about to decline, but when I glimpsed the appetizing-looking finger sandwiches and accepted a plate, I took a bite of a smoked salmon sandwich, wiped my hands, and opened my laptop. My hands were shaking as I navigated to my inbox and clicked on his familiar personal email address. In it he furnished me with another email address and told me that password to access that email was the answer to the question:
“Who saved you on your 16th birthday?”
My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “What?” I said out loud.
“Is everything okay?” Dante asked.
I thought he was asleep, but he was looking at me with such alertness he could not possibly have been sleeping.
“Yes,” I whispered, and he closed his eyes again.
I almost couldn’t look, the grief was crippling, but I followed Papa’s instructions. Using Dante’s name as the password I entered my father’s secret email inbox. There was only one item in it. It was a letter addressed to me. It bore the date of my sixteenth birthday.
I took a deep breath, lowered my head and began to read my father’s email to me from beyond the grave.
Chapter 19
Dante
Iremembered that first night I met her. Her father had warned me beforehand that it would not be a pleasant meeting.
“It’s not that she’s grumpy,” he had said. “She’s just a little bit upset at me for stepping out on her birthday. We were baking a cake together before I had to go pick you up.”
I had nodded, still uncertain of the man who had appeared out of nowhere to fight for me. His daughter and whether or not she would be friendly was not even an issue. I was fighting for my life.
Until I met her.
Until I saw her pale still face against the tiles.
I could recall that night as vividly as if it happened yesterday. My heart had been pounding so hard as I began to administer CPR.
When her father had rushed over, he pushed me aside and took over. He seemed surprisingly calm as he worked on her until he turned to me and roared at me to grab his phone and call 911. When I returned, she was coughing out spurts of water.
Her father was crooning something unintelligible to her over and over again. With fascination, I watched him. It was as if I was seeing into his very soul. He loved that girl so deeply he couldn’t, wouldn’t accept losing her. I knew that day he would give up his life for her. I knew no one like that. No one who loved like that.
“Have you called them?” he yelled again, holding her in his arms.
“They’re almost here,” I replied.
He kissed her forehead and cheeks. “You’ll be alright sweetheart. You’ll be alright.”
I might as well not have existed.
She was rushed to the hospital and I remained in that unfamiliar house waiting for him to return. I called him once to ask if he needed me at the hospital but he refused.
“You can’t be out and about. Stay in the house and be safe. I’ve instructed the staff not to let anyone in. If there’s anything at all that makes you suspicious, call the cops immediately. Zola is okay. She’ll be fine. Thank you, Dante. Thank you. For as long as I live, I will never forget what you have done for me. Perhaps one day, I will be lucky enough to have the opportunity to pay back this debt.”
The next morning, she returned and for the next few days, I saw what it meant for a father to completely pamper his child. It had endeared me so much to that man. I held him in reverence and was almost jealous of her. I’d have given anything to have a father like that. Our relationship grew deeper.
But the way my trial was going indicated Ugo was going to lose, and I knew him well enough to know he would definitely lash out when he lost. I became terrified that my presence in Marco Leone’s home would bring harm to him and his beloved daughter.
I left one night and never went back … until a few months back when Marco began to follow and ingratiate himself into my legal troubles.
Now here I was; suddenly shaken awake by his daughter’s troubled voice. I kept my eyes closed, but I knew something was not right. I cracked my eyes open to slits and watched her surreptitiously. She seemed oddly restless and distressed.
Then she buried her face in her hands and began to sob softly.