Chapter 11 - THE TWO FATHERS
I stared at the faded pink embroidery on the yellowed cloth.
For thirty years, she had carried this blanket, loving a daughter she thought was dead, and a son she thought she could never reach.
I slowly stood up from my father’s bedside.
I walked toward the woman who had brought me into the world.
I reached out and touched the soft, worn fabric of the blanket.
Then, I looked up into Evelyn’s eyes. They were the exact same shade of dark brown as my own.
I didn't say anything. I just leaned forward and rested my head against her shoulder.
Evelyn let out a quiet, shattered breath and wrapped her arms around me, holding her daughter for the first time in thirty years.
Two days later, the atmosphere in the hospital was entirely different.
The heavy, suffocating dread of the mafia war had vanished.
My adoptive father, Thomas Mitchell, was sitting up in his bed, eating a bowl of jello.
The door opened, and Damian walked in.
He wasn't wearing a tailored Italian suit. He was wearing jeans and a simple gray sweater. He carried a large bouquet of sunflowers and a box of expensive pastries.
Damian stopped at the foot of the bed.
The mafia boss looked at the retired mechanic who had raised his twin sister.
“Mr. Mitchell,” Damian said respectfully, extending his hand.
My father smiled warmly and shook it. “Call me Tom, son. And thank you for the pastries. Hospital food is going to kill me faster than the heart attack.”
We laughed.
Damian pulled up a chair next to me. He looked at me, a genuine, relaxed smile on his face.
“I brought the estate paperwork,” Damian said, handing me a thick manila envelope. “I’m legally dissolving the Vitelli syndicate. The legitimate businesses—the real estate, the restaurants, the shipping—are being transferred into a trust.”
I opened the envelope.
“A trust for who?” I asked.
Damian pointed to the top line of the document.
It read: The Evelyn Moore Foundation for Children.
“It’s going to fund orphanages, pediatric hospitals, and trade schools,” Damian explained. “And I need a CEO to run it.”
He looked at me.
“I want it to be you, Anna. You know the value of hard work. You know what it means to protect a family. I want you to run the foundation.”
I stared at the paperwork, completely overwhelmed.
“Damian, I’m a housekeeper. I don't know how to run a billion-dollar foundation.”
“You won't be alone,” a voice said from the doorway.
Thomas Russo stood there, leaning heavily on a cane, his arm in a sling. Evelyn was right beside him, supporting his weight.
Thomas smiled at me. “I’ve got twenty-six years of experience running the books. I think I can teach my daughter a few things.”
My father sitting in the bed laughed.
“Well,” Tom Mitchell said, winking at Thomas Russo. “Between the two of us, I think we can keep her out of trouble.”
I looked around the room.
I had two fathers. I had a brother. I had a mother.
I wasn't just the maid anymore.
But as I looked at Evelyn and Thomas, standing close together, I realized there was one piece of the puzzle still missing.
“You know,” I said, looking at Damian. “We have a lot of work to do. But I think there’s something else we need to take care of first.”
Damian raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
May you like
I smiled, pulling a small velvet box from my purse.
“A wedding.”
