The Italian's Unexpected Heir

“I was supposed to have been asleep hours ago, but when I heard the shouting and the door slam, I thought something was wrong. In bare feet, I ran down the hall toward my parents’ room. I didn’t have to put my ear against the door because they were talking loud enough to be heard through the closed door.”

He paused as he gathered his thoughts. Part of him wanted to stop here—to shove away the memory that had been troubling him most of his life—but the other part of him needed to say this—to put it out into the universe.

He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his insides. And then, ever so slowly, he blew out the breath. “I heard my mother say she needed to tell us that my father wasn’t the biological father of us all. Some of the words were muffled with her sobs. But then my mother said she’d messed up by having that affair and how guilty she felt.” Enzo paused, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “My father told her she couldn’t tell us—that we were too young to understand. And then she mentioned me and how I wasn’t a little boy any longer. But my father said it wasn’t fair to tell me a secret that I couldn’t tell my sisters.”

Sylvie reached out, placing her hand on his arm. It was a quiet gesture—a caring touch. And it gave him the strength to finish.

“I’m not sure how long I stood there, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. My mother had an affair. And at the time, I was certain I was the illegitimate child. Why else would she have mentioned my name?”

“It must have been such a shock.”

He nodded. “My mind was reeling. I wasn’t a Bartolini. I didn’t belong.”

“Did you approach your parents?”

He shook his head. “I went to bed that night and eventually I fell asleep. In the morning my parents acted totally normal. And being a kid, I was able to convince myself that it was just a dream. But deep inside I knew it was so much more than a dream.”

“And so all of these years you’ve been dealing with that on your own? Without being able to talk to anyone?”

“But it isn’t about me. It’s about my sisters. I was too ashamed—too worried about my own feelings—to speak up. But I should have said something. I should have done something.”

“You were just a kid. That’s a lot to handle.”

He raked his fingers through his hair once more. Frustration over his inaction and anger at his lack of courage twisted his gut up in a knot. “I can’t hide behind that excuse. I had a chance to speak up when my sisters found that journal. And yet, I kept the awful secret to myself. I didn’t think of how it would eat at them—the not knowing.”

Sylvie’s hand slid down his arm until her fingers brushed over his palm. The sensation sent a sizzling sense of awareness zinging up his arm. Her fingers slipped between his as she squeezed

his hand.

“I know your sisters wouldn’t blame you for being shocked when the secret came out. It had been years and you’d convinced yourself that it was a dream.”

“But I should have said something. I was ashamed that I wasn’t a Bartolini. I was scared they wouldn’t look at me as their big brother. I didn’t want our relationship to change. I thought if I sat on the information that I’d have a little longer until the DNA results revealed the inevitable—I wasn’t a biological Bartolini.”

“You’d just lost your parents—you were afraid of losing your sisters.”

“That’s not good enough.” He pulled away from her and stood. His gaze drifted to the floor. “If I was a good brother—if I’d have protected my sisters the way my father had always told me to do—I would have spoken up.”

Sylvie placed her fingers beneath his chin and lifted until their gazes met. “Maybe you should have spoken up sooner, but what you would have told them would have been misinformation. You are a Bartolini by blood. Perhaps it would have been worse for your sisters believing one thing, only to find out it wasn’t the truth.”

“But if I’d have had the courage to speak up all those years ago, my parents could have talked to us. They could have explained their actions. Now we’re left with guessing at their motives.”

“And this is why you’re selling the estate? You don’t feel that you deserve it?”

He shrugged. “My sisters both moved away and started over. It’s time I do the same thing.”

“Have you told your sisters all of this?”

He shook his head. “I can’t.” His sisters were all the family he had in this world. “I can’t risk losing them.”

“Do you really think that will happen? Because I don’t. I know your sisters love you as much as you love them. And nothing will break you apart.”

In her gaze he saw truth and compassion, but it wasn’t enough to change his mind. “I... I can’t do it.”

“If you don’t, I don’t think you’ll ever find that fresh start you’re seeking, no matter how far you move from here.”

He wanted to argue with her. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong. But he didn’t. Sylvie was a smart woman, but the risk of revealing his secret to his sisters was too great. They’d already lost so much—been through so much. And he didn’t want them to look at him like—like he’d let them down.

“You won’t say anything, right?” he asked.