Page 165 of The Forbidden Villain
“I have family who loves me, a woman who adores me, and everything this life has to offer is within my reach. Because you protected me from him and taught me all the things that mattered in our short time together.” My fists clench, and I take deep breaths to control my rapidly beating heart. “I couldn’t find your brother Lev. I think he was a mirage, someone you wanted to believe would come and save us both.”
If a powerful mafia man had lost his sister, I would have known him, but there was no one with that name.
I spoke with Aunt Phoenix about it yesterday, and she explained that sometimes, when people are put into unbearable situations, the psyche tries to protect its sanity and creates another reality.
The delusion helps to cope with their horrible circumstances and keeps them going, and I think that’s what Lev was.
Mama waited for a savior, needing to believe there was at least some hope, but instead she birthed a man who would be such a savior to others.
If only I could save my mom, though.
My heart contracts even more. Placing my hand on my heart, I whisper, “Spasibo, Mama.” My mother was ripped away from the life she knew, whatever that might be, only to end up in hell.
She didn’t have to love or accept me, but she did.
My mother did everything she could to give me the best chance, and she filled my heart with love, curiosity, and knowledge as much as she could so I’d never be like him.
His blood might run through my veins, but I’ll always dedicate my life to extinguishing men like him, and if that makes me a monster in the eyes of the world, so be it.
“Ya lublyu tebya,” I whisper and try to put a lid on the emotions threatening to open all the old wounds that shouldn’t have a presence in my life. “I’m sorry you didn’t live long enough to see justice, but it was served in your name. You can rest in peace now.”
That’s when I feel another presence, and I freeze when I see my mom, the one who raised me, sit next to me, and her scent envelops me, the one I always associated with acceptance and safety.
A woman who welcomed me into her family with open arms right away. Who withstood my nightmares, silent treatments, and my hysterics.
A woman who never made me feel unwanted, only deeply loved.
A woman who became my mom.
“Mom,” I say, an odd sense of guilt filling me that maybe she might take it the wrong way. I’m not sure how to explain my emotions to her, but I don’t want her to think I love her any less. One of the reasons I asked Dad not to tell her anything about it. I should have known better, though. They don’t have secrets from each other. “I?—”
“I thought I’d come here to thank your mom for raising such a strong boy who survived long enough for us to find him.” I swallow. The pressure inside me builds, and fuck, it’s so hard to put that lid on all these feelings advancing on me like an inevitable tsunami. “Who filled his heart with love and kindness. A strong woman, and she gave that strength to her son.” She looks at the stone. “Thank you, Anastasia. I hope you know your son is deeply loved, and he wouldn’t be here without you.” She looks at me again and cups my cheek, the softness inher gaze breaking all my walls, and my eyes fill with tears for the first time in forever. “No matter what happens, Levi. You’re your mother’s son and ours. Nothing else matters. I would never want another son, and it’s an honor to share such privilege with your mama.”
At this moment, I understand that Dad told her everything, and she accepts even the darkest parts of me. I was afraid she wouldn’t.
I couldn’t fathom losing another mom.
I wrap my arms around her. “I love you, Mom.”
She hugs me tighter, threading her fingers through my hair, and whispers like she did in my childhood, “Let go, Levi. Let go.”
And I allow myself something I haven’t ever done before.
I let the six-year-old boy in me finally cry for a mother he had in the arms of a mother who raised him.
As tragic as it is, there is also beauty in it.
Because I was so lucky to have two mothers who loved me when some don’t even get one.
So I let myself grieve in their presence and heal the broken parts of me.
For a second, I think I hear Mama’s voice in my ear, whispering, “Bud schastliv, moy lvenochek.”
Be happy, my little lion.
And that’s what I intend to do.
Lev
