23. Ophelia

Chapter 23

Ophelia

H e's gone. I still can't believe he just up and left.

I don't know what I expected when I played nice the other evening just to steal his key card. Then I felt a lot less brave when I stood in front of a glaring psychopath who took the time to explain, in gruesome detail, all the horrors my father caused both outside and inside the famiglia . He also described, in even more gruesome detail, what a marriage with Dario would have meant for me.

My stomach churned at that moment, and what did he do? He laughed.

"So please, Vargas may be hell-bent on protecting you—to atone for sins that frankly aren't even his to begin with. Go play your little virginal victim act somewhere else because this is not the world for you, little lady." He snorted. "That man loves you like an idiot."

"Why? Do you need to be an idiot to love me?"

He rolled his eyes then. "No, you have to be an idiot to love, full stop." He shook his head, wiping his hand over his face. "You don't know him if you don't realize what a sacrifice it was for him to come to me, to hand me the power. And what do you do? You spit in his fucking face." He snorted. "If I wasn't completely convinced love is a waste of time before, I am now."

I stand there, Lucchese's words weighing on me. The penthouse feels colder, quieter, and infinitely lonelier.

I thought his departure would bring relief, but all it brings is a hollow ache. I told myself I needed space, that his presence was suffocating, but now that he's gone, I feel more lost than ever.

The note I left him was meant to be a final jab, a way to assert control. Now, it feels like a childish act of defiance, hollow and meaningless.

I walk to the window, staring out at the city lights that seem so far away. The world continues to move, indifferent to the confusion in my heart.

Midsummer Petals was almost my undoing. It's so thoughtful, and what he said is the truth—this was my dream. I looked away from him because I didn't want him to see how much I loved the gift and how it meant everything. When my will started to falter, and I wanted to run into his arms, I remembered the necklace he gave me, the most beautiful present that was a tracker, and the boat he pretended was a way to win my father's heart but was actually a way to destroy me. The shame and hurt resurfaced tenfold, and it was not about love anymore.

Love, sacrifice, forgiveness—they all seem so distant, so unattainable. But maybe, just maybe, there's a sliver of truth in Lucchese's harsh words .

Javier does love me like an idiot. And perhaps, somewhere beneath the layers of anger and betrayal, I still love him too.

The thought is terrifying, but as I stand alone in the silence, I realize it's a truth I can't escape.

I settle on the sofa, watching the enormous TV, trying to enjoy the space I always avoided in his presence. I must be tired because all I remember is the first ten minutes of the cheesy rom-com before waking up to the bright sun in the sky and a couple of texts from Derek on my phone.

Derek: Hey, how are you doing?

Derek: Do you want to do something today?

I chew on my bottom lip as I think. Lucchese's words are still playing in my head. Derek has known Javier since they were kids.

Me: Do you mind talking to me about your childhood?

A moment later, my phone buzzes with his reply.

Derek: Sure. Want to grab brunch?

For some reason, I have a hard time imagining Derek in a brunch place, but I would much rather go anywhere with him than stay here and be stuck in my own head.

Me: Give me 30 minutes.

Derek: No problem, I'll come up.

I'm ready on time, and Derek is already waiting for me by the elevator. I feel guilty somehow, having driven Javier away from his home and also taking him away from Derek.

So instead of "hi," the first words that come out of my mouth are, "I didn't mean for him to leave like that, you know."

He nods and jerks his head toward the elevator. "Come on, let's go." Derek is a man of few words, which is usually peaceful but sometimes cranks up my anxiety.

We take the elevator down to the parking garage and get into his car.

As he starts the engine, he continues, "We need to stop at Milo's. I placed an order, but there's no parking there. Do you mind picking it up?"

"Oh, sure. We're coming back here for brunch?" It makes so much more sense.

He shakes his head as we pull out of the garage. "No, we'll go to see Tiago." He winks. "Brunch with the local priest."

I smile, but I feel apprehensive. I'm not sure why, but it seems like involving a churchman in my pathetic drama is a waste of his valuable time.

I think Derek sees that because he squeezes my shoulder. "Tiago needs to be here for this story. It's not only mine."

"What about Javier?"

Derek remains silent for a few minutes as we drive, then he sighs. "You don't listen to Javier, and I'm not blaming you. Contrary to what you may think, he's not inclined to manipulate you, and he probably thinks this story will influence your judgment."

"Will it?"

He stops the car, double-parking outside Milo's. "I don't know, you tell me."

I don't have time to answer, but I keep pondering while picking up the enormous amount of food and joining him back in the car.

"Isn't it a little much for the three of us? "

"Tiago has a rule. If we come and bother him for anything, we need to bring food for ten so he can share with the homeless around the church."

"I love that."

He gives me a half smile. "I know you do. You're one of us."

I'm not sure what he means by that exactly, but I feel it just the same, and I smile, feeling warmth in my chest for the first time in weeks.

We park at the back of the church, and Father Hernandez comes to join us. Dressed in a pair of black jeans and a Henley, he looks nothing like a priest, especially with the tattoos peeking out of the collar.

God, I'm going to end up in hell because my appreciation of the man's physique is anything but holy.

"Nice to see you again, Ophelia," Father Hernandez says as he reaches for the bags in my hands.

"Thank you, Father. Our last meeting wasn't the most glorious. I apologize."

"Don't we all have bad days? And please call me Tiago," he adds over his shoulder as he makes his way back to what I assume is his place. What do you even call a priest's house?

The place is small and sparse, but it's not very far off from the apartment I used to share with my mom. The simplicity of the space makes me more comfortable almost immediately.

"Please, take a seat," he offers, pointing at the square wooden table in the middle of the room. He rests the bags on the counter. "Did you ask for the bacon to be extra crispy?" he asks, rummaging through them.

Derek rolls his eyes, taking the seat across from mine. "Yes," he says, placing the cup holder on the table.

"French toast?"

"Yes."

"Date syrup instead of maple?"

"Y—actually, I forgot."

Tiago's shoulders fall a little. "Man, come on."

I can't help but smile at that. It's quite funny to see a priest defeated by something so trivial.

"Didn't you make a vow of abnegation or something?"

Tiago shakes his head and comes back to the table with plates. "Simplicity doesn't mean letting go of all good things in life. Just help yourself," he adds, pointing at the boxes of food.

I nod and grab a couple of pancakes—the apprehension of this discussion, along with a priest being involved, sparks my anxiety even more.

We start to eat in silence until Derek puts his cutlery down. "So you wanted to know about my childhood."

I look from him to Tiago a couple of times. "I mean, yes, if that's okay. You don't have to—it's just… it's fine."

He gives me a smile, but it doesn't truly reach his eyes. "I do, it's just not the happiest story, but I think it ends up pretty well. Don't you agree, old friend?" he asks Tiago.

Tiago seems to ponder that for a few seconds and nods. "I do. Life can be challenging at times, but it's in those moments of adversity that our true character shines through."

Derek clears his throat. "So, I moved here when I was seven. My mother was following her most recent boyfriend one more time, so I ended up here in East Harlem, starting a new school in the middle of the year as a scrawny kid. It wasn't easy. I was bullied for the first week until the troubled twins showed up." He chuckles, throwing a look at Tiago.

"Yeah. Javier and me," Tiago adds, taking a sip of his coffee. "We're obviously not brothers—well, not by blood at least—but we were both eight, living in the same building. Kids like us needed to rely on each other. I know you think Javier lied to you about his name, and he did, but he always hated the name Alejandro because it was the same as his father's."

Derek nods. "My mother… she wasn't a good person. She used me to pay for her drugs, selling me to her boyfriends. She died when I was nine. Instead of letting me go to a home, Javier sort of took me in. He was only ten, but he made sure I wasn't alone. To pay his dues, his father forced him to do his drug deals for him. Javier's dad was a lowlife small dealer, and he got killed by the Mafia when Javier was twelve. His mom checked out completely and became a drug addict. So Javier took over his father's role, obsessed with avenging his death. He went against the Mafia, but Javier was smart and driven, and he was also obsessed with Tiago's older sister, Paloma."

Tiago's eyes darken slightly. "Paloma was five years older than us. She liked pretty things, and Javier thought if he had money, he could have her too. My sister, God rest her soul, fueled Javier's desire for vengeance, for money, for power until it cost him far more than he could offer. Paloma died, and Javier couldn't even go to her funeral because he was shot too."

A heavy silence fills the room, the weight of their shared history pressing down on all of us. I feel a lump in my throat as I look at Derek and Tiago, understanding so much more about Javier now.

Derek's voice is soft when he continues. "Javier has always been about protecting the people he cares about, even if it means sacrificing himself. That's why he wanted you to say goodbye to your father, Phee. He knows what it's like to not get that chance."

I swallow hard, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "I didn't know everything."

Tiago reaches across the table, placing a comforting hand on mine. "None of us can truly understand the burdens others carry until we see the weight they bear. Javier's actions, misguided as they may be at times, come from a place of deep pain and love."

I take a big, shaky breath.

"He loves you deeply, but his own self-loathing and guilt stop him from seeing the happiness that was at the tip of his fingers," Tiago adds. "A bit like a certain person who is so convinced her father died because of her that she's now refusing to let herself love and be loved."

This one hit me right in the chest. I can't avoid the truth in Tiago's words. For so long, I've been wrapped up in my own pain, my own guilt, believing that I didn't deserve happiness or love because of what happened to my father. It was so much easier to feel rage, to blame everything on Javier, and he took it head-on.

I look at Derek and Tiago, their faces full of understanding and compassion. It's as if they see right through me, into the depths of my struggles and fears, as if they recognize their own struggles in me.

"We all dealt with our childhood wounds so differently. I turned to God and decided to help people like me not lose their way," Tiago says softly.

"I went off the rails for a while, but despite everything, Tiago and Javi were there, and I turned to computers. I had a gift, so I lost myself in the digital world," Derek adds.

Tiago sighs, sitting back in his chair. "And Javier, he lost himself in his grief, his guilt, his desire for retribution. He listened to no one, and I mistakenly thought that this drive was a good thing, that it helped him heal. We sometimes think that revenge will help you heal."

"Except it doesn't. It festers and infests every cell of your body until you don't know if it's them you hate or yourself," Derek continues, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and hugging him.

It feels humbling to sit here with them and see how they still made it through. Despite everything they suffered, they are still actively trying to make the world a better place in their own ways.

I can't stop myself, and I reach across the table for Derek's hand. He flinches but doesn't remove it, and I see the surprise on Tiago's face. Just like the hug the other day, he stiffened but returned it anyway.

"Well, this is our story," Derek says with a nod.

I want to ask. I'm dying to know because even if I manage to get past the betrayal and forgive Javier, I'll have a hard time living in the shadow of a ghost. A ghost he loved so much he went on a fifteen-year vengeance mission. A ghost he has branded on his chest. It's petty, and I know that, yet I'm not sure if I could allow myself to live with the weight of his expectations.

Tiago notices my hesitation and gently speaks up. "Paloma's death changed Javier. It fueled his need for vengeance, but it's important to remember that it was part of his past. You are his present, Ophelia. He chose you. He loves you."

Derek squeezes my hand lightly. "We all have ghosts, Phee. What matters is how we deal with them. Javier's love for Paloma was real, but it's a chapter of his life that's closed. What he feels for you is his future."

"Javier loved Paloma like a boy loves. She was five years older, and as sad as it seems, I don't think she loved him either. He presented the potential of a wealthy future, and he was young enough to be manipulated. I'm not judging. I loved my sister, but the facts are the facts. She used him from the moment she saw the financial potential his intelligence brought to the drug business. There's no competition, real or otherwise. He would have never let anything go for Paloma, but he was willing to do it for you. He just realized it too late, when the damage was already done. He was young and inexperienced; he's not anymore. He loved her as a boy, but he loves you as a man," Tiago adds.

I take a deep breath, trying to absorb their words. "I just don't know if I can see past everything."

"And nobody's asking you to," Derek says quickly. "This is your decision, your life, and you should not do anything you're not comfortable with. Ever. "

I look up at him, and the intensity shining in his blue eyes shows me how much he means this. "I won't."

A beep and a light turns on, and Tiago stands. "Confession time." He grabs his robe from the back of the door. "I'll see you again soon, Ophelia. Derek, call me later."

"See you soon, Fath—Tiago." He winks at me and exits the room.

We stand up and start to make our way back to the car.

"I love him, you know," I let out before thinking.

"Tiago? Yeah, most women do—must be the vestments."

"No, I—" I can't help but laugh, seeing the amusement in his eyes. I sigh. "Thank you."

"I know you do," he replies more seriously now as he starts the car.

"I just don't know who he really is. Is the man I fell in love with the real him, or the facade he used to manipulate me?"

It's good to let that out, but the absence of a reply is a little unnerving. I glance at him as he drives, trying to decipher his face. But that's the thing with him—you can't truly tell.

"What is it?"

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

He glances my way and shakes his head. "No, why would I? I can't give you that answer. Do I know it? Yes, of course I do, but no matter what people will say, you need to figure it out on your own."

"I know." I am defeated and tired all at once. All I want is to crawl into bed and sleep for days. "I think he's going to find a way to let me go," I say as he enters the parking garage. I didn't mean to say it out loud. I also didn't mean to make it sound so pathetic.

"He is, yes."

The pain I feel in the center of my chest is unexpected and surprising, and I hate it. "It's for the best, isn't it?"

"Sure. That's what you want, no?"

I let out a growl of frustration. "You're really annoying when you do that, you know."

"Am I?"

"Argh!"

He chuckles before wrapping an awkward arm around my shoulders. "Hey, it's going to be okay. You're stronger than you think."

I lean into his embrace for a moment, feeling the warmth of his support. "Thanks, Derek."

"Anytime, Phee. Just remember, you're not alone in this."

I get to the penthouse, and it feels so empty until I get to the counter and see an envelope there—"Ophelia" is scrawled at the top in Javier's handwriting.

"Javier," I call, but the place remains silent. I turn toward the closed elevator and can't help but smile.

"Derek, you sneaky little…" I whisper, opening the envelope with shaky fingers.

Sweet Ophelia,

I know you're angry, and you don't want to listen. I can't blame you—I truly can't, and I've faltered more than anyone in this narrative. But I need to speak, and you need to listen… or read, for that matter, so I have to revert to the old-fashioned handwritten letter. It truly is a lost art, and I like it. I hope you read this and the ones that will follow.

I didn't mean to leave like that without a word. That's not me, not us, but I'm not sure what to say or do.

When I first met you, I was a man consumed by vengeance. Your father's actions left scars that ran deep, and my life was defined by my need for retribution. I sacrificed so much to get to him that I didn't care who I destroyed along the way. I became someone I'm not proud of, and I can see now how much I hurt you.

You came into my life like a beacon of light. You made me feel things I didn't think I was capable of feeling again. I tried to ignore it at first, to push you away, because my quest for revenge seemed more important than anything else. But the truth is, you became the redemption I didn't know I was searching for.

You've seen parts of me that I've kept hidden for so long, parts that I'm not proud of. My life has been a series of masks and facades, each one crafted to protect myself and those I care about. But with you, sweetheart, I want to be different. I want to be the man you deserve.

I understand now that love isn't about control or protection to the point of suffocation. It's about trust, about allowing the person you love to be free and to grow.

I'm giving you space, not because I want to, but because I need you to see that my love for you is not about keeping you bound to me. It's about wanting the best for you, even if that means stepping back.

Remember the night you told me about your dreams before entering the golden cage of the Gambinos? You spoke with such hope, such a vision for a future that was bright and boundless. That's the future I want for you, whether or not it includes me.

But I hope it does. I hope you can find it in your heart to see past the mistakes and see the man who loves you more than words can ever express. I'm not perfect—far from it—but I am willing to spend every day proving that my love for you is real and unwavering.

This isn't the end of our story, Ophelia. It's just a pause, a moment for reflection. I will be back, and when I return, I hope we can start anew.

I love you,

Your Javier

My breath hitches as my vision blurs with tears. I rest the letter against my chest. He wants me to be happy, and I want that too. I'm just not sure how right now.

As days go by, I keep receiving letters. After a few days, Derek stops pretending he's not the messenger and just hands it to me every morning.

I wake up excited, just waiting to read what beautiful and raw words Javier will give me today.

Sweet Ophelia,

I'm sitting in a small café in London, waiting for the board meeting to start. The hustle and bustle of the city around me feels so distant, like I'm in a bubble, disconnected from everything except my thoughts of you.

I can't stop thinking about how it would be here with you. I see couples walking hand in hand, sharing moments of quiet intimacy, and all I can imagine is you by my side, your hand in mine. I can picture us exploring the city together, your eyes lighting up with that unique blend of curiosity and wonder that you have.

The Thames at night is a sight to behold, Ophelia. The lights reflecting off the water, the historic buildings standing tall and proud—it's breathtaking. But it feels incomplete without you here to share it with me. I long to see the awe on your face, to hear your thoughts, to experience everything through your eyes.

You once told me about your dream to travel, to see the world beyond the confines of the life you were thrust into. I want to be the one to give you that, to show you the beauty that exists beyond our past and the pain it holds. I want to create new memories with you, ones that are filled with joy and love, not shadows and regret.

And the flower shop—don't deny yourself that dream just because it came from me. The joy and passion you felt for Midsummer Petals are real, and they belong to you. You deserve to live that dream fully, to surround yourself with the beauty and tranquility that flowers bring. Let go of any guilt or hesitation. You are perfection, and you deserve to embrace everything that makes you happy.

I know I've asked for your forgiveness, but I also need to forgive myself. I need to believe that I am capable of change, that I am worthy of the love you've shown me. It's a journey, one that I am committed to because you are worth every step, every struggle, every moment of doubt.

I miss you more than words can express, and a part of me selfishly hopes that you miss me too. Even just a little. The distance between us is a constant reminder of what I've foolishly lost and hope to regain. I dream of the day I can return to you, not just as a man seeking redemption, but as a man who is worthy of a second chance because Ophelia, my sweet love, I will never mess up again.

Until then, know that my thoughts, my heart, and my tattered soul are yours.

With all my love,

Your Javier

Damn, that man knows his way through words and feelings, and every letter just thaws my heart a little more, but every morning when Derek is looking at me expectantly, I just take the letter and thank him, never giving him one of my own.

I don't know what to say, so I just don't say anything, and the letters keep on coming. I look at the calendar—the date of his return is approaching, and I know that I need to make a choice, a decision if there's a future for us. A future that may take work, yes. It will take time to rebuild the trust, to get to know this version of him, but I need to let him know if there's at least a chance.

At least, I thought I did until this morning when Derek handed me the last letter, his face grim.

My Dearest Ophelia,

I am writing to you from Zurich, the final leg of my journey. The return feels bittersweet, for despite how deeply I miss you and yearn to be with you, your silence speaks volumes. It tells me that you don't feel the same and that my return is more of a burden than a joy.

Yesterday, I spoke with Lucchese. He will offer you his protection and grant you the freedom you desire. He will erase all traces of the marriage you never wanted. I say "you" because I do. I do want to be married to you, but not like this—not with you feeling trapped.

Please speak with Derek. Tell him where you wish to go, and he will help you. It's not charity; it's what you deserve. I owe you that and so much more.

You are welcome to stay in the penthouse for as long as you need. I will stay at the hotel. Even in this sorrow, know that I love you deeply and will always be yours, my sweetheart. Thank you for bringing me back to life, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

With all my broken heart,

Your Javier.

My hands tremble as I hold the last letter, the finality of Javier's words sinking in. The pain in my chest is unbearable, an ache that tells me all I need to know. My silence, filled with unspoken words and missed opportunities, has brought us to this point.

I can't let it end like this.

I pick up my phone and dial Derek's number, my heart pounding with each ring. When he answers, his voice is steady, a calm presence in the storm of my emotions.

"Hey, Phee. What's up?"

"Derek, I need your help," I say, my voice breaking slightly as I consider my decision.

"Alright," he replies softly. "I'll be right there."

I hang up, standing by the window, staring out at the city that suddenly feels full of possibilities and uncertainties. The pain in my chest is still there, but it's joined by a spark of something new, something hopeful that maybe this will work.