Seven Years in a Dream, Awake at Last Chapter 07

Seven Years in a Dream, Awake at Last Chapter 07

Alessandro’s POV 

The word hit me. “What?” 

“I found out a few weeks ago.” She still wasn’t looking at me. “When your family… when they beat me that day, I almost lost it. I was bleeding so much I thought…” Her voice caught. “But the doctors saved it. 

Saved him. Or her.” 

I couldn’t breathe. “Sloane, I didn’t know.” 

“I wasn’t going to tell you.” She turned to face me, “I was going to raise this baby alone and you’d never know. But you saved my life today. You saved everyone in that garage. So I’m telling you now, I’ll let the baby know you. As their father. But that’s all you’ll be.” 

I couldn’t breathe. “Sloane-” 

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because every child deserves to know their father. But you and me? 

We’re done. Forever.” 

“Please.” I reached for her hand. “Please, I can change. 

I can be better.” 

“No.” She pulled her hand away. “You had seven years. You had every chance. And you chose to lie. You chose to hurt me.” 

“I chose wrong.” 

“Yes. You did.” She walked to the door. “Goodbye, 

Alessandro.” 

“Wait.” I tried to get up but the pain stopped me. 

“Sloane, please. I love you.” 

She paused at the door. Maybe she’d turn around. 

But she didn’t. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. I just want you to be happy.” 

“Then let me go. 

The door closed behind her. 

Six months later 

The doctors said my recovery would take years. The knife had damaged more than they’d thought. 

I moved to a clinic in the Swiss Alps. Far away from everything, 

Years passed. 

Sloane sent the baby to see me once a month. A little girl with Sloane’s eyes. Her nanny would bring her, stay for an hour, then take her home. Sloane herself never came. I’d hold my daughter and tell her stories, knowing she was too young to remember any of it. Knowing Sloane was giving me this much only because I’d saved her life. 

I kept a journal. Every day, I wrote about her. About us. About all the moments I should have cherished instead of wasted. 

I collected her news articles. Every interview, every photo, every mention of the Lucchese family. I pressed flowers between the pages. Wind hyacinths. Her favorite. 

On the last page, I wrote: Sloane, all I want is for you. to be happy and safe. Always. 

Then I called my lawyer. 

“When I’m gone,” I told him, “send this to her.” 

“Sir, you’re not-” 

“Just promise me.” 

He promised. 

Sloane’s POV 

It was autumn when the package arrived. 

My secretary brought it to my office. “From Switzerland, ma’am. The sender… he passed away two days ago.” 

I knew before I opened it. Inside was a journal, the cover worn from being held so many times. I opened to the first page. 

News clippings. All of me. Photos from charity events, board meetings, interviews. He’d been following my life. 

Wind hyacinth petals fell out. Dried and pressed. 

I flipped to the last page. 

Sloane, all I want is for you to be happy and safe. 

Always. 

My hands didn’t shake, and my eyes stayed dry. I closed the journal and walked to my desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pushed it all the way to the back before shutting it. 

“Cancel my afternoon meetings,” I told my secretary. 

“I need some air.” 

Outside, the autumn wind was cold, and I pulled my coat tighter as I kept walking. 

I picked up Sofia from kindergarten that afternoon. She ran to me with paint on her hands and a drawing she’d made. 

“Mommy, look! I made a castle!” 

“It’s beautiful, baby.” I took her hand, and we walked to the car. 

“When can I see Daddy again?” Sofia asked as I buckled her in. “I miss him.” 

My chest tightened. The visits had stopped three weeks ago when Alessandro’s condition worsened. 

“Your daddy is… he’s very sick right now, sweetheart.” 

“But I want to show him my castle! He always likes my drawings.” 

I looked at my daughter’s face, Alessandro’s dark eyes, my nose, his stubborn chin. For two years, I’d sent her to see him once a month. Her nanny would take her to Switzerland, and Alessandro would hold her, read to her, tell her stories about stars and mountains. I never went. 

And now I never would. 

“Daddy’s not in the mountains anymore,” I said quietly. 

“Where did he go?” Her voice got smaller. 

“Somewhere he doesn’t hurt anymore.” I brushed her hair back. “Somewhere peaceful.” 

“Will I see him again?” 

“No, baby. But he loved you so much.” My throat felt tight. “He wanted you to know that.” 

Sofia was quiet for a long moment, staring at her drawing. Then she looked up at me. “Did he love you too?” 

The question caught me off guard. “Once. A long time ago.” 

“But not anymore?” 

“It’s complicated, sweetheart.” 

Sofia went quiet for a moment, then held up her drawing. “Can we put this in the castle daddy was building? The one you showed me pictures of?” 

The observatory. Alessandro had finished it before he got too sick to work. It sat on that mountain he’d bought me seven years ago, empty except for the telescope he’d installed for our daughter. 

“Maybe this weekend,” I said. “We can go together.” 

“Will daddy be there?” 

“No, baby. But we can look at the stars for him.” 

His story was over. Mine wasn’t. And Sofia’s was just beginning. 

END