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El padre de mis hijos Novel Cover

El padre de mis hijos

After a night of passion with a dangerous stranger, Elena’s life changes forever when she discovers she is pregnant. Years later, her past resurfaces as the powerful mafia leader returns to claim what is his. Caught in a world of violence and betrayal, Elena must protect her children from the shadows of their father's empire. As secrets emerge and enemies close in, she struggles to survive the lethal consequences of their shared history.
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Chapter 4

Lilibeth

Después del anuncio de su compromiso salgo al jardín para tomar un poco de aire y olvidar el amargo sabor de mi boca al ver a mi esposo con esa mujer. Cuando estoy preguntándome que fue exactamente lo que sucedió hace un año, escucho unos pasos. Me giro y veo a Massimo, intento huir de él, pero me es imposible cuando su brazo se enrosca en el mío frenando mi intento de huida.

Cuando pregunta si nos conocemos, no puedo evitar sentir un dolor lacerante en mi corazón que rápidamente oculto. No quiero que se dé cuenta de quien soy hasta que sea seguro para ambos, por lo que niego conocerlo.

También me hace saber que me vio ayer, mientras entraba a la cafetería de Otto. Provocando que mi cuerpo tiemble de miedo. Si él me vio es posible que cualquiera se haya percatado de mi aparición.

Debo salir inmediatamente de aquí para no exponernos frente a todos, pero él no me deja ir tan fácilmente y cuando estoy comenzando a desesperarme aparece Donato y me saca de aquí.

—Señora lo lamento, pero Maritza estaba buscando al señor Massimo. No podía dejar que la viera junto con él —me informa en cuanto salimos de la mansión Salvatore—. Podría haber sido peligroso para usted, recuerde que en este momento no somos los suficientemente fuertes para enfrentarnos a ellos —me recuerda, alternando su mirada entre el camino y mi rostro.

—No te preocupes Donato, hiciste bien. La verdad no quería hablar con Massimo, pero fue él quien me retuvo ahí. Creo que… una parte de él aún me recuerda, aunque no estoy segura. Me di cuenta de que perdió la memoria. No actúa como solía hacerlo antes, ahora parece más dócil hasta cierto punto y el Massimo que yo conozco nunca ha sido así —Nuevas lágrimas afloran de mis ojos al recordar que me pregunto si nos conocíamos.

—Tranquila señora, sé a quién podemos pedir ayuda, así tendremos más hombres. Estuve averiguando algunas cosas y creo que es la mejor opción que tenemos.

Aparca el auto y nos bajamos con otros hombres siguiéndonos de cerca. Ninguno quería compartir la misma casa conmigo dado que me respetan, pero me siento más tranquila estando todos juntos.

Dos días después

Donato me contó algunas cosas sobre Giuseppe Lombardi Il grande capo. Es un hombre muy respetado y era el padre de Renzo Lombardi, quien desgraciadamente murió hace más de un año. Después de la muerte de su hijo se retiró de su puesto, pero aún conserva todos sus negocios, algunos de los cuales se los ha dejado encargados a sus hombres más fieles.

Hoy por la noche iremos a su antro El bajo mundo. Es un lugar donde muchos mafiosos se reúnen para hacer negocios que algunas veces termina en disputas, aunque siempre que se puede tratan de evitarlo, para no molestar a Giuseppe.

Estoy un poco nerviosa esperando que sus hombres me dejen hablar con él. A pesar de haber concretado una reunión, no puedo evitar pensar que tal vez no desee verme y todos mis planes se arruinen. Si bien es cierto que lo conocí hace tiempo, no sé cómo reaccionará al verme frente a él.

—Adelante señora, el señor Lombardi la espera —me informa uno de sus hombres.

Me permiten pasar junto con Donato y antes de poder ingresar nos revisan para ver si traemos algún arma. Como es de esperarse mi hombre trae unas cuantas armas, las cuales le decomisan y le serán devueltas en cuanto salgamos de aquí. Yo por mi parte no tengo ninguna arma. No sé disparar y no me serviría de nada cargar alguna, pero el tipo que me revisa quiere pasarse de listo tratando de revisar mi corsé, a lo que respondo dándole un puñetazo. Sus compañeros al ver que le he abierto parte del pómulo me dejan pasar.

—Están limpios —grita otro de ellos y nos dejan pasar a través de unas puertas dobles al final del pasillo.

En cuanto entramos, puedo ver una enorme oficina con una sala de estar. En ella se encuentra un hombre de unos sesenta y cinco años, canoso, de ojos verdes, barriga prominente y baja estatura. Aunque parece ser un hombre gentil y bondadoso, su mirada es tan astuta como la de un águila.

Es exactamente como lo recuerdo, solo que ahora parece más cansado. Les indica a los hombres detrás de mí que se retiren, me acerco hasta estar lo suficientemente cerca y le extiendo mi mano a modo de saludo, estrechamos nuestras manos y me indica que tome asiento.

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