“I just want to speak to Sabrina. And see Elly. You can’t forbid a father from seeing his child—or his wife.”
I stepped into view. “Ava, I’ll take it from here.”
She turned, gave me a look that was equal parts warning and support, then squeezed my hand before walking off. “I’ll be close,”
she whispered.
Then we were alone.
Archie looked like hell.
No designer clothes. No polished charm. His shirt was wrinkled and stained. His face unshaven. Hair unwashed and wild. He
looked nothing like the man who once ruled New York’s mafia world with a smirk and a Rolex.
“What do you want?” I asked flatly. “I think I was very clear in my last message. Elly and I are no longer your worries.”
He blinked, like the words stung. Maybe they did. But not enough.
He opened his mouth–angry, not apologetic. “So what, your sister told you to leave? That’s how you’re raised, Sabrina? Just run
without saying goodbye?”
He stepped closer. “Elly is still my daughter. I’m her father. I have rights. I deserve to know where she is.”
His next words were a command, not a request. “Come home with me. I’ll let it go this time. But don’t think I’ll be this generous
every time you act like this.”
I almost laughed. He really thought I was the one who owed him.
When he reached for my hand, I slapped it away. Hard.
“You must’ve forgotten where you’re standing,” I said, my voice low and laced with venom. “This is my family’s ground. And Archie Valez? You’re just a trespasser.”
“If I gave the word, the guards would be dragging you back to the airport with broken ribs. So unless you plan to bleed on Marcellus soil, I suggest you watch your tone.”
He stared at me, stunned. Like he’d never imagined I could look at him like this–with nothing in my eyes but disgust.
“If you’re done,” I said coolly, “you can leave.”
“I…” he faltered, then drew in a breath. “Please. I came to apologize.”
His voice dropped to something softer. Almost pitiful. “I… I went too far. With Betty. With everything. You were right to be angry.
I just please, Sabrina, forgive me. Come home. I’ll never make the same mistake again.”
3/43
10
I looked at him. Really looked. And I almost laughed.
The audacity. The delusion.
