Children of Redemption (Children of Vice 3)

“Ethan. Wyatt,” our grandmother said, nearly ready to break the glass in her hand in anger. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Meet Fiorello Orsini, aka the son of a bitch who drove me off the goddamn road, left me to die, caused me to lose my unborn daughter and nearly your father!”

“We were at war, us Italians and Irish. I served his grandfather and mother. I thought we let go of the past when the families merged, Evelyn. After all, what I took from you barely touched the surface of what Sedric took from me,” Fiorello said. Grandma got up so quickly the chair nearly fell over, tossing her drink into his face; she shook with rage.

“Till the day I die, I will never forgive you!” She moved to march past Ethan and me, but when he spoke again, she stopped.

“If that is the case, then I can’t trust her with you…shame. If Orlando was alive, hell, if his daughter was alive, they’d be happy with this news,” he said, taking the napkin and dabbing in his face.

“What news?” Ethan asked, only looking toward our grandmother, and she looked ready to smack the hell out of him as if he were the one keeping secrets for years.

“Your daughter!” she hollered.

“His what?” I gasped.

“Papà!”

We all turned as Uncle Declan walked down the stairs with a little girl, maybe four years old, no older than five. She had long curly brown hair and was dressed in red a peacoat; she let go of his hand and ran straight toward Ethan’s legs.

I’d never seen Ethan so terrified and baffled in my whole life. He stared down as if some foreign creature were attacking him.

“Ethan, meet your daughter, Giovanna Siena Orsini-Callahan,” Fiorello said. “Her mother and I just call her Gigi, though.”

I looked down to her and saw she had complete heterochromia; one of her eyes was a light brown and the other the same sharp green as Ethan’s. She looked like him, only with tanner olive-toned skin. She grinned, totally amazed and lovingly at him, and spoke quickly.

“Mamma alla fine disse che potevo venire ma il nonno disse che doveva cavalcare l'edera perché era velenosa” (Mommy finally said I could come, but grandpapa said he had to get rid of the ivy because it was poisonous). When she spoke, we all turned to stare at Fiorello, who had a small but cruel grin on his face. In that moment, I knew we were all thinking the same thing…

He killed Ivy.