Chapter 48 - Roman Duca Goes to Therapy
Roman hated therapy.
Mostly because Dr. Helen Brooks refused to be intimidated.
“You’re angry,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“You’ve been glaring at that plant for six minutes.”
“The plant is badly maintained.”
“It’s artificial.”
Roman stared at it.
“That explains a great deal.”
Helen laughed.
Roman disliked her immediately.
Which was why Clara liked her.
After Antonio’s kidnapping, Roman had developed habits.
He checked locks repeatedly.
Watched school cameras.
Called Marcus at unreasonable hours.
Followed Clara from room to room without realizing it.
One night Clara turned around.
“Roman.”
“Yes?”
“Why are you standing outside the bathroom?”
“I was passing.”
“For twelve minutes?”
He went to therapy the next morning.
Now Helen asked, “What are you afraid will happen if you stop watching?”
Roman stared at the floor.
“Someone disappears.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
That word surprised even him.
Helen waited.
Roman hated silence.
“Clara.”
He swallowed.
“Sofia. Antonio. Adrian.”
He looked toward the window.
“My mother disappeared. My brother disappeared before I knew him. People betrayed us. People died.”
“And control kept you alive.”
“Yes.”
“But now?”
Roman thought.
“Now control makes everyone tired.”
Helen smiled.
“That sounds like progress.”
“It sounds expensive.”
Meanwhile, Clara had her own problem.
Sofia had started asking questions.
Real ones.
“What did Dad do before Duca Maritime?”
Clara nearly dropped her coffee.
“Business.”
“What business?”
“Complicated business.”
“Grandma Catherine says he scared politicians.”
Catherine, across the room, pretended not to hear.
Sofia continued.
“Kids at school say Dad was mafia.”
Clara sat down.
There it was.
History reaching the next generation.
That evening, she told Roman.
He went silent.
“We move schools.”
“No.”
“Homeschool.”
“No.”
“Private island.”
“Roman.”
He looked miserable.
“I don’t want her carrying this.”
“She already carries our name.”
That night, Roman and Clara sat with Sofia.
Antonio was building a spaceship nearby.
Roman began.
“When I was younger, I did things that were against the law.”
Sofia looked fascinated.
Clara sighed.
“This is not supposed to sound exciting.”
Roman continued.
“Our family was involved in organized crime.”
Sofia frowned.
“Like movies?”
“No.”
“Did you rob banks?”
“No.”
“Did you have secret tunnels?”
Roman glanced away.
Clara stared.
“You are not helping.”
Sofia’s eyes widened.
“You DID.”
Roman rubbed his forehead.
Then he became serious.
“I hurt people.”
Sofia stopped smiling.
“I believed protecting family meant being stronger and scarier than everyone else.”
“Was Grandpa like that?”
“Yes.”
“Are you still?”
Roman looked at Clara.
“No.”
Sofia studied him.
“Why?”
“Because your mother annoyed me into becoming a better person.”
Clara slapped his arm.
Sofia laughed.
Roman smiled.
Then Sofia asked the hardest question.
“Are you a bad person?”
Roman went still.
Clara did not answer for him.
Roman thought for a long time.
“I have done bad things.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
His daughter was too much like Clara.
Roman exhaled.
“I don’t think people are only one thing.”
Sofia nodded slowly.
“That’s what Mom says.”
“Your mother is irritatingly wise.”
Clara smiled.
Sofia moved closer.
“Do you wish you were different?”
Roman looked at her.
“I wish I learned sooner.”
She hugged him.
Roman’s eyes closed.
Antonio noticed.
He abandoned his spaceship and joined.
Clara wrapped her arms around all three.
Later, after the children slept, Roman stood on the terrace.
Clara joined him.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He looked at her.
“That is a strange response.”
“It means you care.”
Roman took her hand.
“I spent my entire childhood believing my father was invincible.”
“And Sofia?”
“She knows I’m flawed.”
“That may be better.”
Roman stared toward the dark gardens.
“What if she stops respecting me?”
Clara leaned against him.
“Then earn it again tomorrow.”
Roman smiled faintly.
Inside, his phone buzzed.
Marcus.
Roman groaned.
“What now?”
He answered.
Marcus sounded amused.
“You’re on television.”
“Why?”
“Sofia’s school essay.”
Roman froze.
“What essay?”
The local station was covering an elementary writing competition.
Sofia’s essay had won.
Title:
THE STRONGEST PERSON I KNOW.
Roman braced himself.
The reporter read one line.
“My dad used to think being strong meant making people afraid. Now he says being strong means staying when running would be easier.”
Roman did not speak.
Clara looked at him.
His eyes were wet.
“Roman?”
He cleared his throat.
“Artificial plants irritate me.”
May you like
Clara laughed.
And Roman Duca, former crime boss, feared by half a city, stood on his terrace crying because an eight-year-old girl believed he had learned how to stay.
