Page 96 of A Diamond Deal
His son.
He wasn’t alone on the island.
Tentacles slithered. He didn’t cut them down at the root. He let them drop him to his knees. Let them squeeze out whatever air remained in his lungs. And on his knees, Konstantinos remained. Looking at the white headstone. At his name.
Isaak Ariti.
The pain in his gut doubled him over.
Pain. It followed him. It was his punishment. For letting his mother die. And sothey—the gods, the fates, whatever stood jury and executioner above him in a world he could not see, but knew was there—had taken Isaak to punish him. And in turn he had hurt her.
Konstantinos didn’t fight it. He lay down on the neat grass. Lay down with him. His son. He touched the tiny flowers placed in the vase. Wild flowers. Pink. Purple. Blue.
He’d failed them all, because however hard he’d tried to protect them, he hadn’t been able to.
‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed heavily. He reached out—traced the gold-embossed letters. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.’
It hit him.Grief.Thick and overwhelming, it cloaked him. A visceral darkness that pummelled his every sense. It was everything he remembered, this grief. It choked him, as it had the day he’d held his mother in his arms…
Konstantinos let it take him.
Emotions—so many of them—thumped at his skin—his body.
This grief, it was real.
Isaak…
He was real.
A tear slipped free.
Konstantinos let it fall.
His son deserved his tears.
He deserved his father to recognise him.
Because denying his grief—it was denying his existence.
‘I waited for you to breathe,’ he told his son. ‘I didn’t believe them. I did not believe you could be given to me and taken away before I had time to do it right. Protect you. Raise you.Love you.’
His chest split in half. ‘I pretended I didn’t care. I pretended I had not touched your small toes. Your fingers. I pretended the box I carried here was empty. I am sorry I denied you. You are my son, Isaak. My first born…’
He sat up. Kissed the white stone. ‘I am sorry I did not grieve for you. I love you,’ he whispered. ‘And your mother, she—she loves you.’
He closed his eyes.
God, forgive him.
What had he done?
He’d denied his grief. He had not let her have hers. Because he had told her their baby—his death—was nothing. He had denied her grief. He had denied her love. And why? For control?
His chest caught fire. And he knew what burnt inside him. It was ferocious, so hot did it burn. It hurt him. He knew why it hurt now. Why it had hurt when she’d disappeared. Why he’d stopped everything to find her. Why he’d demanded she stay. Why he’d played all those games to keep her. It was not for his image. Or his reputation.
He loved his wife.
Konstantinos understood it now.
