27. Catalina

Catalina

T he sun has just begun to peek through the windows of my home when I hear the familiar rumble of the delivery truck. Excitement bubbles in my chest as I rush to answer the door, eagerly awaiting my weekly shipment of fabrics. I had ordered quite a few this time, determined to surprise Claudia with her dream princess dress for her upcoming birthday.

As the driver unloads the large boxes from his truck, I can barely contain my grin. The girls are still sleeping, and Marcello has already left for work, leaving me alone in the quiet house. It's the perfect opportunity to unpack the materials and start planning out the design.

I carry the boxes to my room, eager to see all the different textures and colors. Carefully, I line them up on my bed, arranging them for better visualization. As I make a mental note to throw away the empty boxes later, a small scrap of paper falls out. My first thought is that it might be an invoice, but as I pick it up, I realize it's something much more unsettling.

Don't you want to know who the father of your child is?

My heart races, and I feel a chill run down my spine. Who would leave such a haunting message? Frantically, I search through all the boxes, but there's nothing else inside except this one piece of paper. With trembling hands, I take a seat on my bed, still clutching the note.

No, I can't let this rattle me. Everything is in the past now, and whoever is behind this couldn't possibly know what happened that night. But as hard as I try to push away these thoughts and focus on my work, I can't shake off the feeling of unease that lingers in the air.

I take a while to compose myself. I rip the note into pieces and throw it in the trash. Then, I just focus on my project.

I won't let this bother me.

"Signora Catalina, this came for you." Amelia's voice interrupts my thoughts as she approaches me on my way to breakfast the following day. I frown but take the letter from her. It's written on thick parchment paper, sealed with red wax and a crest that I don't recognize.

I find a secluded spot under the stairs and carefully open the letter. Inside is another note, similar to the one I received yesterday. My fingers tremble as I unfold it, dreading what words will meet my eyes this time.

He's closer than you think.

My heart pounds in my chest as I read those chilling words. Who is doing this? Who is trying so hard to torment me with the worst thing that ever happened to me? The mere thought makes my stomach churn with fear and anger.

Quickly stuffing the note back into its envelope, I ask Amelia to bring breakfast to my room and excuse my absence by saying I am feeling ill. As soon as she leaves, I rush to my room, needing the safety and solitude it offers.

What is happening? I can't make sense of it. I admit that over the years, I have occasionally thought about Claudia's biological father. But not because I wanted to know his identity – it was more out of a desperate need to see if there were any signs of him in my daughter. Thankfully, she has inherited all of her physical characteristics from me – except for her hair.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I refuse to entertain the idea that the note might be right. The thought of my rapist being near me fills me with an overwhelming sense of dread and nausea.

A loud knock on the door startles me. I quickly shove the letter under the mattress, hoping that Marcello won't notice.

"Lina? Are you alright?" His voice is filled with concern as he enters the room. I try to compose myself before he sees me.

"Just a headache, love. Nothing to worry about." I offer him a small smile and reach for his hand, seeking solace in his touch.

But he isn't convinced. He crouches down in front of me, feeling my forehead with the back of his hand.

"You feel warm. Maybe you should rest." His brows furrow with worry.

"It's fine, really. I just needed some water." I try to sound nonchalant, but I can see the doubt in his eyes.

"I can't help but worry about you, Lina. You mean everything to me." His tender words bring tears to my eyes as I wrap my arms around him, holding onto him tightly.

"I love you," I whisper, burying my face in his chest. If only he knew the truth...but I can't bear to tell him.

"I adore you, Lina. Never forget that." He pulls back slightly, his expression still clouded with concern.

Feeling guilty for causing him worry, I hurry him back to the dining room.

"I'm feeling much better now. Let's go together." I stand up and lead him towards the door.

"If you're sure..." He studies me carefully, trying to gauge if I'm telling the truth.

I nod and force a smile onto my face.

He already has enough on his plate. He doesn't need to worry about this too.

The daily barrage of messages is overwhelming. Every morning, like clockwork, a letter arrives at my doorstep. They come in different envelopes with no return address, but I know they're from the same person. It's been a week now, and the notes never fail to taunt me with the secret of Claudia's father's identity.

At first, I tried to open them, hoping for some closure or answers. But after the first few days, I couldn't bear it anymore. The pain of not knowing was too much, so I started burning them instead.

I thought that throwing away the letters would make it all stop. And for two days, there was nothing.

But then, just when I let my guard down, a pop-up appears on my computer screen as I'm browsing the internet in my room. At first, it's blank, but soon words start appearing in the same sentences as the letters I had been receiving.

SILLY GIRL, IF YOU ONLY KNEW.

THE MAN YOU PROFESS TO LOVE – DON'T THINK I HAVEN'T HEARD.

I panic and try to exit out of the window, pressing every key on my keyboard frantically. But it's no use; the pop-up won't go away.

THE MAN WHO RAPED YOU IS CLOSER THAN YOU THINK.

YOU'RE MARRIED TO HIM.

My heart drops as I read those words. My computer suddenly crashes, leaving me staring at a blank screen in shock. Could he be implying that Marcello is the man from that horrific night? The mere thought of it makes me laugh bitterly. This whole charade is just an attempt to make me doubt my husband and tear our marriage apart.

Whoever it was should realize just how far-fetched the idea that Marcello could be Claudia's father is...

I shake my head, determined to put this out of my mind forever.

When dinner is announced, I go downstairs and notice that everyone but Assisi is already at the table. Marcello is deep in conversation with Claudia, and they are discussing some text she'd had to read as part of her homework.

"But it's not very logical," my daughter notes, eyebrows knit together in consternation.

"I think you're just advanced for your grade, Claudia," Marcello nods. "Have you tried telling that to Mrs. Evans?"

"Yes, but she wants me to go the traditional route. She says I shouldn't miss out on a normal education." She sighs, clearly disappointed with her teacher's approach.

"Lina, there you are." Marcello gives me a bright smile as I take my seat. I nod at them, urging them to continue.

As the courses come and go, I can't help but stare at the two of them, looking for any similarities. Damnation! Now that the idea was sown into my head, I can't help but think about it.

There isn't much to go off. The only thing they have in common is their lightly colored hair. In fact, the more I stare, the more I realize that it's the same shade of blonde.

Lord! I must be going crazy.

"Lina?" Marcello calls my name, frowning.

"Yes, sorry I didn't hear you."

"You've been lost in thought for a while now."

"Just thinking about my design," I quickly lie, forcing a smile. Good Lord, if he knew what I've been thinking about...

The next course is served, and I see Marcello looking a little disconcerted.

"Something wrong?" I ask as one of the staff members places a plate in front of me.

"I've given specific instructions to avoid seafood," he notes, picking at his food.

I look down into my plate and see that it's a seafood medley.

"Ew." My daughter makes a face, pushing the plate away from her.

"Why?" I ask, my eyes still on my daughter.

"I have a seafood allergy." He shakes his head, rising to go to the kitchen to inquire further.

"Wow. I have a seafood allergy too," Claudia exclaims. Marcello stops in his tracks and half-turns towards Claudia, his expression inscrutable.

"I'll tell them not to make this mistake again." His voice is tense, and my doubts suddenly double.

Surely it's just a coincidence?

The following days are even worse. I watch Marcello and Claudia even closer, studying their interactions and their behaviors. Suddenly, I see a pattern in everything.

This is getting to me too much. Especially when I search the internet for types of evidence that two people could be related. Short of a DNA test, another far less reliable method is to compare blood types of the parents.

I pause for a second to think. My blood type is O and Claudia's is B. I study some charts and the father can only have a B or AB blood type. Okay, so there's not much to go off. But because I'm so paranoid, I end up asking him late at night in bed.

"Where did this come from?"

"Oh, I've been reading some wellness tips and they take blood type into consideration." The lie rolls easily off my tongue, and I feel a twinge of guilt. I'm going crazy, but if he says O or A, then I can put my worries aside.

"Hmm, that's interesting." He turns towards me, his face mere millimeters away. "It's B, I think."

"Oh." It's all I can say.

"Any tips for me?" He jokes, tugging me closer.

"I'll read up and tell you?"

"Deal." His mouth comes down on mine and I lose track of everything else.

Because this is the man I love.

"Lina, pay attention." Enzo snaps his fingers in front of me.

"Sorry. I've been a little distracted lately."

I'd asked Enzo to meet me at a nearby cafe. I needed someone to confide in, and for all our friendship, I knew Sisi wasn't the best option in this case. Not only because it was her brother I wanted to talk about, but also because she's been too distant lately.

"I see that." He leans back in his seat, studying me.

"Is he mistreating you? You can tell me anything, Lina. I'll make him rue the day he was born if he did anything..."

"No, not at all." I cut him off. "It's not that. He's been nothing but wonderful," I quickly say. I've noticed in the past that Enzo doesn't have the greatest opinion of Marcello, and I have to wonder why.

"You've lost weight, and you look gaunt. What am I to think?" He arches an eyebrow at me and waits for me to talk.

"I..." I start, not even knowing where to begin. "I love him. I love him like I never thought I would." I clutch the cup of coffee in my hands, lowering my gaze. "He's amazing, thoughtful and oh, so kind. He's everything I could have asked for and more."

Enzo snickers at my words, and I raise my head. "Which is why I don't understand why you hate him so much."

"Have you heard anything about his past?"

I shake my head. "Only a little... not much."

"Did he tell you he asked for your hand years back?"

"He did mention that."

"Rocco accepted the match. It was a few weeks before..." He trails off and I know he means the incident. "After that, his father suddenly died and Marcello went missing."

"Why did Papa never say anything?" I frown. I hadn't realized how serious the marriage talk had been.

"It was too late by that point." Enzo grimaces. He means I was already damaged goods by then.

"Is that why you're so against him? Because he left the famiglia?"

"No." Enzo's lips curl around the corner sardonically. "It was because of what he did before he left."

"If you're talking about the orgies, then I've heard about that," I suddenly say.

Enzo blinks twice, taken aback by my comment, but he continues. "The orgies were but a small part. The Lastras were infamous ten years ago. Marcello and his father were always together, engaging in the worst, most debasing practices." Enzo pretends to spit to emphasize just how disgusting he finds those practices.

"I see." I turn to my coffee once more, not knowing how to answer. The man I know and the man he's describing are two different people. But that's the whole point, isn't it? He's a two-faced mafioso.

"Why did you call me here, Lina? And be honest. I can see that something's eating at you."

"I've been getting some harassing messages. At first, it was letters, and then they started showing up on my computer too."

"What does Lastra say about that?"

"I didn't tell him."

"Lina..." Enzo groans, slapping his hand over his forehead. "Why would you not tell your husband? I only agreed to the match because he was supposed to keep you safe."

"Because the messages are about him," I whisper, finally getting to the real reason I'd called him here.

"What do you mean?"

"The messages keep saying he's Claudia's father." I recount from the beginning what each message had contained, and then my ever-increasing doubts and observations.

"So your evidence so far is that they have the same hair, allergy, and blood type?" He's pensive as he asks, and I just nod.

"It's not exactly evidence. That would imply I already believe he is guilty. I just can't help being paranoid. I keep looking at every single thing they have in common, and I have these doubts..."

Enzo is silent, his jaw locked tight.

"It's crazy, right? It's too crazy to even contemplate." I shake my head. I just want Enzo to tell me I'm seeing too much into this. I want him to confirm that I am going off the deep end.

"I don't know if it's too crazy."

My head snaps in his direction, my eyes wide.

"What do you mean?" I ask, almost horrified.

"Lina, I told you he wasn't a good man. The Marcello I knew... the Marcello everyone knew was a monster. Fuck! I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for agreeing to this marriage." He presses his fingers to his temples in a light massage.

"What do you mean by monster?" My words are a mere whisper.

"Every bad thing you could think of, he was guilty of," he says with a sigh.

"But it's just rumors, right? You can't know for sure."

"Lina, there was a time that absolutely no one dared to go against the Lastras. Everyone who wronged them ended up dead – killed in the worst manners possible. When his father died and Marcello went missing, no one mourned them. Like a stain in the five families' history, they were promptly forgotten."

"But... that doesn't mean he'd do something like that to me." I try to explain to him, but even to my ears, it sounds fake. "He wanted to marry me, right? Why would he...?"

Enzo places a cigarette in his mouth and lights it up. He inhales a few times before blowing a cloud of smoke. He shrugs.

"I'm not saying that he did it. I'm only saying he's capable of doing it."

His casual manner doesn't help with my already increasing panic. No, I'm sure Marcello wouldn't do that. I know him, don't I? I know how gentle and how kind he is. How could such a person... I shake my head, not even wanting to go there.

"If you're so preoccupied by what a stranger said, you can always do a DNA test to confirm your doubts."

"That would mean I strongly suspect him."

"No, that would mean you get a result, confirm it's not him, as you clearly believe, and then move on. You're so stressed right now about the possibility that it might be him you can barely function." Enzo aptly points out everything I'd been thinking about, and I have to agree with his line of reasoning.

"You're right. I don't think it's him. But I'll do it just to be sure."

"Good. I'll take care of it. You just need to collect some hair samples from Claudia and your husband. I'll have someone drop by to pick them up."

"I'm scared," I admit for the first time.

"Lina, as much as I don't like your husband, if you believe he didn't do it, then I trust your judgment. It is possible someone is just trying to drive a wedge between the two of you."

"I've thought about that. But I'm still..."

"You need to be certain. I can respect that. I'll make sure you have the results as soon as possible."