Bloodlines
1201 Words
Ava’s POV
By late afternoon my office had finally gone quiet. Yesterday had been chaos - Eleanor barging in, Vanessa’s theatrics right after. Today, though, I finally managed to work. I returned calls, signed off on a vendor audit, and met with Claire to prepare for Monday’s preliminary hearing. Preliminary. The word sounded polite. Nothing about it would be.
I stacked the last memos, squared the corners, and checked the time: 3:59. The light outside was turning gold. For the first time all day, my shoulders loosened.
Ethan walked in at four on the dot. He didn’t knock. He rarely does. With Ethan, his presence was a knock. He sat without asking, studying me like he’d rehearsed this moment and still hated it.
“You’re early.” I said. Easier than saying you look like bad news.
“I know.” He leaned forward. “There’s something I need to tell you, and I need you to keep an open mind.”
Suspicion stirred. “Say it.”
He drew a breath. “Five years ago, I was approached by a man who claimed to be our father.”
“Our..father?” I repeated. “Ethan, Mom told us he was dead.”
“I didn’t believe him either. Not at first. But he was persistent. Asked me to meet him, so I went.”
The room shrank around his voice.
“He handed me a stack of photographs,” Ethan said. “Mom. You. Me. Sicily. You were a toddler, I was three. Some in our old apartment, some at the harbor. And the bracelet Mom kept hidden in her drawer was on her wrist in every shot.”
Memory pricked - salt air, a blue door I thought I’d imagined.
“His name is Salvatore Romano,” Ethan said. “He’s the Don. And he told me why Mom ran away.”
The room tilted.
“He said his enemy staged a trap. He was drugged. Mom walked in, believed he was unfaithful. She fled the next morning. Took us. Changed our names. He searched for years.”
I closed my eyes. It explained too much: why Mom never spoke about Italy, why her past was locked away, why grief sometimes looked like rage.
“When he finally found us,” Ethan said softly, “she was gone. He missed her by time, not effort. He said he loved her. He still wears his wedding ring.”
I stared at the edge of my desk until the woodgrain blurred. “And you’ve known this..five years.”
“Yes.”
“You built a relationship with him.”
“I did,” he admitted. “I needed to know if he could be trusted.”
A laugh tore out of me, sharp. “And you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t,” Ethan said. “Because you were drowning in Daniel‘s humiliation. Because Eleanor kept trying to break you. If she learned the Romano name, she would’ve used you - and Salvatore would’ve destroyed them for it. I thought I was protecting you.”
“You had no right.” My voice shook. “No right to keep him from me.”
“I know,” he said, no defense in his tone
The room pressed close, heavy with the truths I hadn’t asked for. “So why now?”
“Because the ground shifted,” he said. “Because the lines were crossed yesterday, and today we act. He asked to see you. He said it’s time.”
The word father sat wrong on my tongue, yet part of me recognized the shape of something missing, like a familiar face in the crowd.
“Dinner,” Ethan said gently. “Tonight. He just wants to speak.”
“What does he want?” I whispered.
“To explain. To apologize. To tell you what he can do now - and what he won’t allow. He’s been watching, Ava. He knows you built Hale Corp. He knows what you’ve endured. He’s proud.”
Tears burned, but I swallowed them. “You should’ve told me. You should’ve given me the choice.”
“I know,” Ethan said. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong. I’m asking you to be angry and still come.”
I stared at my brother - the one who carried me home from the diner after grad classes, who shielded me even when I didn’t notice. The one who kept this from me for five years.
“Say his name,” I demanded. “Out loud.”
“Salvatore Romano,” he said. “Our father.”
The word hung heavy, a stone that could become either a step or a wall.
“And he’s what? Proud of me? From the shadows?”
“He’s proud. And ashamed. And furious for you,” Ethan said. “Those things can coexist.”
I let out a long breath. “What happens after dinner?”
“Nothing you don’t want,” he said. “You meet him. If you never wanna see him again, he’ll respect it.”
“And if I do?”
“Then he becomes what he should’ve been - a father. A shield. Protection you control.”
I thought of Eleanor’s bribes, Vanessa, smug smile, Daniel’s laughter when he thought I was powerless. The idea of a man whose very name was a warning sign slid into place like a lock.
“But I’m still angry with you,” I said.
“I know,” Ethan answered. “And I’ll earn that trust back.”
The clock slid from 4:12 to 4:13. Outside, the towers reflected fire.
“What time?” I asked.
“Seven. I’ll come get you.”
“I can drive myself.”
“I know. I’m still coming.”
I almost smiled. Almost.
“I’ll go,” I said.
Relief loosened his shoulders. He stood. “Between now and then.. don’t make any big moves. No leaks. No fights. Let the day end quiet.”
“You think I’m reckless?”
“I think you’re good at war,” he said. “And for a few hours, it’s better if you’re not the one starting battles.”
I nodded once. “Fine.”
When he left, the room shifted - bigger and smaller at once.
Our father.
The words fit too well, and not at all. I thought of Mom shutting doors, sealing boxes, surviving. I thought of a ring worn by a man who waited for a family he couldn’t find. I thought of being loved by someone I’d never met, and how that knowledge rewrote me in ways I couldn’t stop.
At 6:42 I was in the elevator, leaving the office. At 6:59 my phone lit with Ethan‘s text: Downstairs. I slipped on my coat, checked my keys, and walked through the glass doors. I was still angry. I would be for a while. But anger and motion can coexist. So can hurt and hope. The waiting car idled at the curb. I climbed in.
I would meet him. I would listen. And then, finally, I would decide.
- Writer
