Bloody Heart (Brutal Birthright #4) - Sophie Lark Page 0,44
life back on track,” Tata tells me. His voice is measured, but his face is stiff and stern. He looks at me not with anger . . . just disappointment. “You’ve made some very poor decisions, Simone. It’s time to right the ship.”
I swallow, my mouth dry.
“What do you mean?”
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” my father says. “Your sister is going to adopt the baby, privately and discreetly. She will present the child as her own. She will raise it as her own. You are going to Cambridge for the winter semester. You’ll get your degree. You’ll get a job afterward. You won’t tell anyone about your indiscretion in Chicago. This whole ugly chapter will be put behind us.”
I lay there silently, while those bizarre statements wash over me.
“I want to see my son,” I say at last.
“That’s not happening,” Tata said.
“Where is he?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that.”
“WHERE IS HE?” I shriek.
“He’s already at home with Serwa,” Mama says, trying to calm me. “He’s being very well cared for. You know how good your sister is with children.”
That’s true. Serwa loves children. She practically raised me.
But it doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest. I want to see my baby. I want to see his face.
“I’m not giving him away,” I hiss at my father.
He looks right back at me, his dark eyes matching mine in anger.
“You think you can take care of a child?” he spits. “You don’t have a cent to your name that I don’t give you. How will you feed it? Where will you live? I’m not supporting you in throwing your life away. And what kind of a mother would you be anyway? You’re a child. Look at you. You can barely get out of that bed.”
More gently, Mama says, “Simone . . . I know you care for this baby. More than your own selfish desires. You are not at a time in your life to have a child. Later, yes, but now . . . you’re not ready for that. It wouldn’t be in his best interest. And think of your sister . . .”
“What about her?”
“Serwa will never have another chance to have a baby.”
This is the first thing they say that hits at my heart. All their words up until then had been nothing but dust that I planned to brush aside. But that statement . . . it cuts me.
Mama looks at me with her gentle blue eyes.
“She loves him already,” she says.
“You must give her this,” Tata says. “Let her raise the baby. Let her have that one thing. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. Serwa doesn’t. This is her only chance.”
Of all the angles they used to attack me, this is the one that hits my most vulnerable spot.
Maybe I could have withstood the threats of disowning, or the fear of raising my son alone, in poverty.
“Look,” Mama said.
She holds up her phone.
On the screen is a picture of my sister sitting in a rocking chair, with a little bundle in her lap. I can’t see the baby’s face—he’s wrapped up in a blanket and a knitted cap, his head turned toward her.
But I can see Serwa’s face.
I see her looking down at my son with kindness, love . . . and pure joy. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her look.
And I’m the most miserable I’ve ever been.
In that moment of weakness, still stitched and bleeding from the birth, head still swimming with drugs . . . I agree.
I sign the papers.
I give my son away.
And I fall down, down, down into a dark well. A depression so deep that I think I’ll never climb out of it again.
The sadness lasts for years.
20
Dante
9 Years Later
We’ve started Phase 1 of development down on the South Shore.
This will be a two-billion-dollar project, spread out over the next six years, in four phases.
Phase 1 is commercial real estate. Gallo construction is just finishing our first skyscraper, right on the waterfront. The tallest part of the tower block reaches 1,191 feet in the air. Which means that when it’s completed, it’ll be the third-tallest building in Chicago.
To my eyes, it’s the most beautiful. And not just ‘cause I built it. The twisting, spiral shape is covered with a smooth facade of glass, shading from deep violet at the base, up to pure blue and then a sea-green at the top. Or at least, that’s how it will look when fully completed.