Chapter One: Empire Ants

Dreams always originated from innocence. There was no knowledge of the bitterness hidden within unless it was witnessed during moments of brutal failure. Some had fallen off the steps to their dreams, and some walked down halfway, disillusioned by the swift truth.

Leone Abbacchio considered himself lucky. He exited high school with the dream of protecting the people of Naples as a police officer. Soon after, he graduated at the top of his class and was put onto the field.

He initially felt unstoppable.

But corruption and pettiness consumed every corner of the city. Even with its high crime rates, the people were ungrateful for peace. His fellow officers quickly grew lazy, choosing to ignore their ineptness for a handful of loire.

Abbacchio convinced himself every morning that he was different. He wanted to help people. Take every case seriously so families could move on with satisfaction, that was the job of a police officer.

His sense of justice was perfect for the job, so why did he return every night with tears of exhaustion that could only be cured with distractions containing alcohol?

Citizens were so fucking ungrateful. They were always yelling at him for being so slow, lacking any sense of empathy.

Everyone was ruining his dream. His only comfort was going to bars after work without his uniform, sometimes spending a hateful night with a man or woman. That was the only thing that prevented him from feeling alone, or so he thought.

When Edoardo, his partner, bit the bullet instead of him, when all the consequences fell upon him while all the others in his field that committed worse went unscathed, no one could offer solace. No family to help him find a purpose thanks to being orphaned very early in his life.

He drank alone. Even the residents of bars felt judgemental. Abbacchio didn't even know how much money he was spending on alcohol. All he remembered was the heavy gulps he took while sitting in lonely alleyways.

Maybe he wasn't alone. Perhaps something was looking from afar. How else did Bruno Bucciarati know where he would be at night?

Overnight it felt like his life had improved – ignoring the nights where he could feel his alcoholism clawing at his brain and the sadly common nightmares. But he had a job where he surprisingly did help improve the conditions of the streets of Naples and companions that understood him. Well, Fugo just seemed pleased to have work where his skills of violence could be of use. Bruno, however, was a considerate capo that valued Abbacchio.

If his work life was improving, then it may possibly reflect on his personal life.

Life in Passione had its chaotic moments, so it made sense that it would trickle to his time outside of work.

A month and a half after joining Bucciarti's squad, Leone walked back to his apartment, headphones on his head and playing Italian indie music. He didn't even notice the person walking behind him until he turned the keys to his door and he slid the headphones as his ears.

"... Leone? You remember me, right? I know that it's been a few months, but.."

Ah shit, now he felt like a jerk for unknowingly ignoring someone talking to him. Better try to smooth things out now, which would have been easier if a critical detail of the stranger didn't freeze his body.

The passerby was a woman he vaguely recognized – dark brown hair and bright, bold green eyes, and tan skin with a soft facial structure accompanied by freckles across her cheeks – though he could only remember her through brief flashes. His memory wasn't serving him to its best potential at this moment, but he was sure that she didn't have a bugling, almost perfectly geometrically round stomach.

Wait, he was remembering now. He met this woman at a bar and she visited his place after a discussion. They were on a bed together at one point while naked and spent the night…

His detective brain finally made the connections It should have been obvious from the beginning, Abbacchio considered, but there were much more pressing matters needing to be addressed.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Leone?"

"Uhh, sorry about that, Elisabetta," he stumbled, something that was never a common occurrence, but was there any proper reaction to… whatever was happening here? At least he remembered her name

"No, no, it's fine," Elisabetta responded, hand awkwardly rubbing her arm. "There really is no great way to explain this. I just thought… it would be easy to meet you in person rather than explain this in a letter or over the phone, especially since it took me so long to get the courage to do this…"

Abbacchio found it difficult to maintain eye contact, avoiding the reality of the situation. He wasn't prepared for impending parenthood. Hell, he couldn't even comprehend that he knocked up a random woman.

Elisabetta appeared upset about some other aspect of the situation, something she hadn't addressed to Abbacchio yet. They were still outside his apartment, he realized. The stairs weren't the best location to discuss the pregnancy; Abbacchio shuddered just thinking about that word, how he unknowingly inflicted that on Elisabetta.

"Don't worry about it," spoke Abbacchio. "Why don't we discuss this inside my apartment? It would be easier for both of us, and the baby."

He felt his throat clench up saying that last part. How long had they been standing there? Maybe about three or four minutes? Holy fuck this night was turning his world upside down.

"Yes, that sounds good," she responded quickly, eagerly moving up the steps. Abbacchio noticed her slight waddle and tired eyes and decided to put a hand on her back to help her walk better. Elisabetta welcomed the assistance, though her stance appeared perplexed. So this was awkward for both of them.

How could it be anything other than awkward? They had only known one another for one (passionate) night and now they were going to have a child together. Two strangers were going to be parents. Abbacchio felt like he would never comprehend the situation.

"Your place is pretty nice," said Elisabetta as she scanned the apartment.

Even during his alcoholic days, Abbacchio maintained the cleanliness of his apartment. The kitchen, however, was usually covered by patterns of wine stains and food and dishes randomly placed on counters and not put away, with the wine cabinet itself always open. A sturdy lock was on the cabinet, the combination of which Abbacchio could not remember off the top of his head, but it was definitely written on a ripped piece of paper somewhere.

"I try to keep it tidy," he responded. "You can sit on the couch if it will make you more comfortable."

"Thanks," she said with relief, settling on the couch lazily.

Damn, she looks so tired, Abbacchio thought as he watched Elisabetta rub her back with a grimace . If only I had known… Why am I so incapable of helping people?

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said with a shake of her head. "Well, I've been better. I'll get right to the point: once I discovered I was pregnant, I thought I could go through this alone. I'm financially stable right now despite not being in contact much with my family. But these past few months… I've been so tired. My mind isn't motivated even though I want the best for the baby, but she doesn't deserve a moping mother. I don't know how I'll be feeling after the birth, so I thought I would ask you."

"You want me to… you want me to be involved in her life?" Abbacchio questioned with a slight tremble. "I mean, we don't know each other that well, so how can you trust me with raising her?"

Elisabetta sighed and looked away from him, almost as if she was ashamed.

"I really don't know what to think. We were drunk when we were together. From what I remember, you were very considerate and had a passion for helping people. I realize that this might interfere with your cop career and that this may be rather selfish of me, but I do think you could be a good father."

"I-I, uhh… I'm not a cop anymore… But I can still help!"

"Oh, well I assume you're still working? Maybe even better hours?"

"Yeah, I work on more private stuff right now. I'm available more and do get paid a bit better."

Abbacchio attempted not to bite his tongue as he lied to her. She didn't have to know about the dramatics and beyond depressing atmosphere that occurred at the end of his dream career. But she couldn't have ignored his change in appearance; his hair much, much longer but well-maintained and the lack of passion in his sunset eyes.

Lying about Passione was much easier. By carrying his child, Elisabetta already had an association with the criminal organization, albeit unknowingly. With both sides being knowledgeable, there was a much higher risk of danger for both of them. Sure, his work was now protecting Polpo's territories and collecting protection money, which was honorable and paper, but most days involved some bloodshed. The jobs Bruno sometimes assigned them to the request of regular people certainly didn't deesculate the daily level of violence, and Abbacchio had grown indifferent, and occasionally giddy, to the instances of beating up and inflicting torture to others.

"That's great," she said with a pleased nod. "Glad to hear that you're doing so well."

Elisabetta finally appeared relaxed, though Abbacchio could tell that she had more questions to ask. She could be easily swayed through lies, however. But for their second meeting ever to be based almost entirely on falsehoods would not help him rest easy.

"I realize that this is a lot of information I'm dropping on you," continued Elisabetta. "I just wanted to tell you so you could think about whether you want to be involved in her life. We can figure out the specifics later, that is, if you want to."

"Of course I want to be involved in her life," Abbacchio immediately answered without much thought. "I can help raise her. I want to be very present in her life."

His answer felt instinctual, similar to his days near the end of high school where his dreams of becoming a police officer shined bright. Applying his sense of justice to raising his daughter was rather strange, though maybe it was the lack of justice during his own childhood that motivated him.

At six-years-old – parents suddenly deceased and with no other family to take care of their son, moved to an orphanage with a miniscule chance of being adopted, and raised in a Catholic setting that, because of the strict teachers and annoying children, crushed whatever hopes his child-self had – he felt alone, terrified, and angered that fate had targeted him so unfairly. He was a well-behaved kid and his parents were loving, so why did they have to die? Why did everything have to change in the blink of an eye? By barely having any memories of his parents, fate was certainly laughing at him.

And now fate had given his daughter the middle-finger before she was even born. Forcing her to be the product of a one-night-stand between two barely nineteen-year-olds that didn't love one another. Giving her a father that only found happiness when he was on mafia missions with Bucciarati and Fugo, usually involving some violence at a minimum.

Even with Bucciarati's help, Abbacchio was still trapped in the walls of the past. Moody Blues was clear symbolism of that. Looking toward the future was fucking terrifying for him, and he couldn't feel that way while raising a child. So why did he agree to be a major part of her life without hesitation?

The question was rather redundant, as he knew the answer.

His daughter would be born as a person that would need his help and deserved the justice he never received.

"Are you sure?" questioned Elisabetta. "Sorry, I didn't expect you to answer rather quickly."

"I'm absolutely certain."

Elisabetta left his apartment soon after, leaving behind her address and an envelope containing ultrasound pictures of their daughter. Abbacchio sat in his kitchen, releasing a sigh of relief as he leaned back. He glanced at the phone on the counter, preparing to dial the number of the person he trusted the most.

Bucciarati knew the risks of recruiting those at the lowest point in their lives onto his team. Although his Bodyguard Squad was only composed of Fugo and Abbacchio who were incredibly respectful of him, he was aware that one day their flaws would arise and cause panic or their pasts would come out of the shadows with a vengeance.

He didn't think such an occurrence would happen soon, but two months after meeting Abbacchio, he received a phone call from the man with a tone that suggested he was on the verge of a panic attack.

Too considerate and selfless of a leader to complain about helping his crew, Bruno rushed to Abbacchio's apartment, thinking that he probably stumbled across a cop friend and was not taking the reminder of his failure of a police career particularly well. He had already provided verbal comforts at the beginning of the relationship and was prepared to do so again.

Opening the door and seeing Leone heavily sigh before saying "I'm gonna be a dad" was a statement that left Bucciarati in a rare moment of shock.

Well that wasn't the situation he was expecting.

Abbacchio didn't bother to let Bucciarati finish processing the information. His mind was too hot, fuzzy with information to not explain further.

"Before you found me, before I got fired, I was disappointed with my life. I usually went drinking after work and sometimes hooked up with random people. I don't remember a majority of them, but when she approached me today, I immediately recognized her. And I…"

The words failed to reach his mouth. His explanation was rather straightforward – at least to him, and Bucciarati's nodding seemed to confirm that – but verbally admitting his morals after such trauma was inflicted on them, morals that Bucciarati was well aware of, made him tie his tongue.

"Leone, it's fine," Bucciarati finally spoke, rubbing Abbacchio's arm and guiding him toward the couch. "Take your time. I understand that this is a lot to take in."

"... She needs my help. She looks like she's been going through depression as a result of the pregnancy. I put her in that situation, Bruno. We fucked one night and left her like that. She asked for my help and I can't deny her that."

The first aspect of Leone Abbacchio that Bucciarati discovered was his sense of justice. If someone was in distress, Abbacchio would be there with a solution. Although he was now discouraged from such missions; his current mindset made him wonder how people could pursue justice despite the brutal odds, but Bucciarati knew that his moral compass was still present, whether Abbacchio noticed or not.

With this confession, perhaps Abbacchio was beginning to realize.

"So you agreed to help her," said Bucciarati. "Don't fret about not helping before, you didn't know she was pregnant, and at least you know now and you want to help. That's very honorable, Leone."

Abbacchio sighed before continuing. "The child needs my help too. Her parents are two teenagers that only know one another cause they had sex. And her mother said that she can't raise her alone. I'm worried that she may get postpartum depression after the birth, so I'll have to, and will, assist both of them.

"I'm scared shitless, I'll admit that, but she doesn't deserve the childhood that I had. She needs parents that are willing to raise her. Neither of them, however, can have any connections to Passione. They don't deserve that either."

"Of course," Bucciarati responded with a nod. "I'll make sure that they have no written connections to you. If anyone is aware and cannot be trusted, then I can take care of them. I can handle that if necessary while making sure that you focus on your daughter."

Nothing could have prepared him for this conversation today. As a leader of his own squad, Bucciarati knew to expect the unexpected. Impending fatherhood was not on that list, however, He was lucky that he could be instinctually altruistic and not stumble over his comforts to Abbacchio.

"Thanks, Bruno, I really…"

Abbacchio froze mid-sentence. His head was already leaned forward, so Bucciarati couldn't determine his emotions.

"Leone?" he asked, panic rising in his voice. "Leone, what's wrong?"

Abbacchio reached for the envelope on the table in front of him, opening the contents with confident hands. Inside were several ultrasound pictures. He normally would have considered such pictures as blurry and confusing, but Abbacchio clearly noted the presence of a baby. His baby.

"A daughter," Abbacchio answered with the lift of his lead, revealing the joyous tears and smile on his face. "I was told she was a girl since Elisabetta first told me, but it hasn't… it didn't reach me until now… I'm really going to have a baby girl. I'm going to be her father."

Bruno gave a bright smile of his own.

"Indeed you are. She's lucky to have you as her father. You'll be amazing at raising her."

A joint-custody parenting situation was agreed upon soon after their meeting, with it becoming legally binding once their daughter was born. Elisabetta gave consistent updates through phone calls and letters and answering whatever questions Abbacchio asked. She requested that he not appear during her appointments, which Abbacchio followed through with. He was disappointed that he would not be seeing live updates, he understood that the relationship between him and Elisabetta was different and would definitely feel awkward if it was mentioned during an appointment, and Abbacchio didn't want her to be more uncomfortable than she already was.

In the corner of Abbacchio's room stood a cradle with a changing table and dresser against the walls. It felt rather strange to have unused nursery furniture in his bedroom, though it was replaced by giddiness as the due date drew closer.

Bucciarati followed through with his preparation plans as well, ensuring that Passione was not aware of Elisabetta and the baby. Abbacchio would be listed as the father, but Bucciarati secured that information as difficult to discover through the use of contacts. He even helped with some nursery purchases and often conversed with Abbacchio about his feeling of fatherhood after work.

Fugo was reasonably disinterested, which Abbacchio didn't blame him for feeling. They had only known and worked with one another for two months before receiving the news that the older man would be becoming a father. Being fourteen-years-old and disowned probably disconnected him from the concept of family. Though he did gift Abbacchio with some baby clothing.

The week before the predicted due date, the Bodyguard Squad was assigned to travel to Milan to punish some thugs that stole from Polpo's territory. Abbacchio was deeply committed to his work, no matter how violent it escalated, but was nervous for the wellbeing of Elisabetta and their daughter, especially since it would be more challenging to contact him. But Elisabetta convinced him that she would be fine and inform him if anything was wrong, and Bucciarati stated his acceptance of Abbacchio leaving early if necessary. The team went on the mission with Abbacchio accepting it with a foreign feeling of reluctance.

He was incredibly relieved when he returned and Elisabetta confirmed that she and the baby were safe.

So now he sat in the kitchen in the late afternoon, drinking a glass of tea while reading the newspaper, letting himself relax after returning home the day before. He sighed in annoyance when the doorbell rang as he stood up to answer the day.

Abbacchio hated snotty kids and was ready to accuse them of bothering him when he opened the door and saw no one in sight. Before he could raise his voice, his foot was intercepted by an unknown object below him. He looked down and his eyes went wide.

At his feet laid a baby wearing a pink onesie sleeping peacefully in a carrier. A bag with an envelope sticking out stood next to it.

There were only a few hairs on the baby's head, but Abbacchio noticed that the wisps on her head were colored platinum.

Holy fuck.

"When did… when did this…" Abbacchio tried to speak but his mind was growing hot. It was definitely his daughter, but why did she decide to make an early appearance? And where was her mother?

Wait, if the doorbell had just rung, then Elisabetta had to be nearby. Perhaps she ran away as soon as she rang the bell, but if she was recovering from labor, she might have been too sore to do so.

"Elisabetta!" Abbacchio yelled out into the street while remaining at the entrance. "Elisabetta! Where are you?"

The baby at his feet shifted, making him grunt in suspense of a cry. He knew that babies did not favor loud noises, so his yelling probably disturbed her slumber. Holding his breath in preparation for a wail, he was surprised to see his daughter stretch within the confines of her carrier with a yawn.

Abbacchio looked back up and scanned the street. If Elisabetta did hear him, she was choosing to ignore him. The note in the bag would speak for her instead.

She wasn't coming back.

Deciding it would be better to inspect the contents of the bag and envelope from inside his apartment, he lifted the carrier and bag before heading inside.

He settled the carrier next to him on the couch, glad that his daughter was unbothered by the movement. Inside the bag was a pack of diapers, a container of formula, and a purple onesie. Did Elisabetta think that he didn't have all the necessary baby materials? Well, he did have a bit less clothes because he expected their joint custody agreement. Maybe she gave them to him, just in case.

Shuffling around the contents of the bag, he saw no birth certificate or any record of her birth. Such papers must have been in the envelope, though Abbacchio suspected that it contained a letter, and the envelope was light in weight and rather thin.

Leone,

I apologize for not contacting you when she was born. It happened rather quickly, and I didn't want to interrupt your work, though I was always afraid if you were there, cause I always planned to give her up.

When I discovered I was pregnant with her, I thought I could handle it. But as the months dragged on, I became more and more depressed and struggled bonding with her. Looking back, I really never liked children and motherhood was never appealing. I don't know why I lied to myself. Maybe I thought I could not be alone if she was with me, but with a mother that doesn't know how to bond with her, does she really deserve me?

During our brief conversation nine months ago, I remember you mentioning your passion for justice and desire to help, so I thought that maybe you would help me. And when I finally told you about the baby and you immediately agreed to be a present father, I realized that there was a parent that would be there for her.

Sorry if I am assuming. I know that we are both very young and that you might not feel prepared for parenthood, but I am confident that I would not be good for her. She deserves someone caring like you.

If you are able, please take care of her.

Elisabetta

"Holy shit…"

She was planning to leave their daughter in his care the whole time? She really believed that he was capable? If she knew the truth about his life, would she have chosen differently?

Abbacchio glanced toward his daughter when he heard a small whimper. Her face was scrunched up, displeased at… something. He was going to have to pick her up and hold her to calm her down, wasn't he? Abbacchio gulped nervously.

She was a light as he imagined a newborn would be. He didn't know if his cradling arm position was proper or not, but the baby stopped her complaints and leaned her head against his chest with contentment. Despite the world feeling like it was shaking, at least he was making a good first impression.

He diverted his focus back to the envelope, expecting to find her birth certificate and any information about her provided by the hospital. But there was nothing else. The letter was the only document.

There was nothing defining her date and time of birth, weight and height, or even her name.

Wait, how was he supposed to care for her if he didn't have important information about her? If she was underweight, then wouldn't he have to give her the proper diet? Only a doctor or nurse could give him information like that. And he needed a record of her birth so people would know she exists and that he was her father.

His detective mindset was turning gears. The ultrasound pictures listed the hospital where the procedure took place. If Elisabetta and her child were patients there, then the birth probably took place there? They must have had a physician he could talk to.

Despite holding his daughter in his arms, he knew that the reality of fatherhood would slap him once he laid eyes on her birth certificate. Maybe he could invite Bucciarati so he could have someone to keep him calm.

Abbacchio wasn't rather fond of hospitals, especially after he joined Passione. Now the worry that people would discover that he had a growing criminal record. He probably went to the academy with some of the security guards.

Normally he would have gone to Bucciarati or some shady medical "expert" recommended by Passione. His nameless daughter needed information that would be necessary, however, and only a hospital provided them.

Talking to random people also wasn't a hobby of his, so he really wasn't prepared to enter. He only did so for his daughter. Luckily, a doctor recognized the little bundle sleeping in her carrier and escorted him into her office.

"I was wondering where she went," the doctor said to him. "I left early this morning and planned to give Signorina Marzipana a final visit at night, as she was scheduled to leave by then. But I got a call from one of the nurses freaking out… Wait, I should have introduced myself first."

She turned to face him and held out her hand. "I'm Malata. I was Elizabetta Marzipana's obstetrician throughout her pregnancy."

"I'm Leone Abbacchio, the father of her child," he answered, shaking her hand. "She was dropped off on my doorstep about thirty minutes ago. I didn't get any information about her birth, so I just wanted to make sure she's okay. I also don't have her birth certificate."

"Well you don't have to worry about her health," Malata answered as she sat down at her desk. "She was born a few days earlier than expected, sometime around noon on May 23rd. The labor was close to being precipitous, as it lasted for a little over four hours. She has an average birth weight, though it's on the heavier side, but she should be fine soon enough. I can get the specifics for you."

"That would be great," Abbacchio said, looking down at his sleeping daughter instead of the doctor. She looked like an average baby, but Abbacchio couldn't help but consider that she was slightly premature, mixed with the fact that he was drinking more than usual during her conception.

Was she truly healthy? Did he forever ruin her wellbeing just because he was dissatisfied with his life? Would a labor that fast create more issues?

"I wouldn't worry, Signore Abbacchio," Malata reassured. "There have been no issues with your daughter. She has a good height and she's very responsive. Cried right away after she came out; absolutely no problems with her despite the quick labor. She's perfectly healthy.

Elisabetta, however," she paused for a moment, pursing her lips. "The early labor and speed probably didn't do well for her mentally. Precipitous labor usually has those side effects. I know that she expressed issues with depression before, but she said she had it under control, and it appeared like it. Abandonment, though… If she left the baby on your doorstep, then she gave up custody. Unless you think that she will come back…"

"She's not coming back," Abbacchio interrupted, trying not to sound bitter. "She told me in a letter. I'll be raising her alone."

When he read the letter, Abbacchio recognized that he would be a single father, but saying it out loud… Fuck, he turned nineteen two months ago, and now he has to raise his daughter by himself.

He couldn't blame Elisabetta. She was struggling with her mental health and perhaps thought, genuinely, that she was not fit for motherhood. She was thinking about the welfare of her daughter. Abbacchio couldn't be mad at her for doing what she thought was right.

"I can get her birth certificate together," spoke Malata, seemingly studying his face. "Elisabetta left before it could be put together. All you will need to do is sign your name and pick out a name for her, though you can take your time with the latter."

Abbacchio felt like he could only nod. Choosing a name for someone to live with for the rest of their life was a harrowing task. His daughter decided to make him avoid the conflict; she released a hefty whine, her face turning red, definitely a step away from crying.

"I don't know the last time she's been fed," Abbacchio said as he lifted her into his arms. "Do you possibly have…"

"Of course we do," she answered with a giggle. "It's a hospital. I'll get a bottle for her and drop it off here before I get her health information and birth certificate prepared."

"Okay, thanks."

Abbacchio really hated snotty kids. His years at the orphanage didn't help (probably a factor in not having many friends). If he wasn't holding his flesh and blood, then he wouldn't have picked her up. Seeing his daughter so pitiful, desperately in need of someone to care for her after one parent left, Abbacchio couldn't help his unfamiliar flutter of love and unwavering protection in his heart.

"Hey, it's alright," he cooed to her, hoping that his tone didn't appear to be trembling like his mind was. "You'll be fed soon. I've got you."

The baby quieted her whining, though she was still distressed. She leaned her head into his chest like she did when he first held her. This time, she finally opened her eyes and pouted her bottom lip. Dammit, she was so cute.

Pity prevented him from gasping at her eyes. He didn't know much about newborn babies, but he remembered the nuns mentioning that a majority of babies were born with blue eyes that eventually settled. Neither of her parents had blue eyes, so hers would definitely settle. Based on the extremely dark blue of her eyes at the moment, Abbacchio knew that her irises would be the same shade of purple on the lower half of his own eyes.

At this point, there was no denying that he was her father.

"Leone."

Abbacchio turned his head. Bucciarati stood in the doorway, trying to close the door while holding a milk-filled bottle and a wool hat. Was the hospital already familiar with him? Perhaps Bruno already had the trust of some of the workers.

"The doctor passed by when I arrived," he explained as he approached father and daughter. "Told me that she was hungry and wanted the bottle dropped off as quickly as possible while she got the birth certificate. Also gave me a hat in case she might be cold."

"Thanks," Abbacchio whispered.

He grabbed the bottle and gently moved it to his daughter's lips, hoping that she would have no issues latching on. The small noise of her suckling with content filled his ears. A sound so peaceful it made Abbacchio sigh in relief.

Bucciarati was not afraid to smile at the baby. He did not have much experience with children and thought that Abbacchio's daughter looked very much like an average newborn, but there was something about her presence that was beautiful. Maybe it was the way she made her father so calm. Looking at Abbacchio's gaze, his sunset eyes no longer contained the despair and emptiness that Bucciarati had sadly grown accustomed to. An aura of love consumed his form.

"Leone, are you okay?"

"I uhhh…" Abbacchio didn't know what to think.

Less than an hour ago he was panicking at the prospect of single fatherhood. Yet as he sat with his infant in his arms, stroking her plump cheek as she drank, he felt strangely whole. He hadn't felt that way since the beginning of his police career, the desire to protect people and sense of justice giving him purpose.

Holding her, he could feel those same values trying to enter his heart after a long absence.

"I think I'll be okay," he finally answered. "I realize that raising her alone is gonna be really fucking hard and that I'm so young, but she deserves at least one parent in her life. She deserves at least some biological connection… something I didn't have when I was a kid. She needs me, Bruno, and I can't rob her of that."

"She lucky to have you," said Bucciarati, leaning in to get a better view of the baby, smiling wider once he noticed her silverly hair and dark eyes. "And you really won't be alone. You work for me, so I want to make sure that you're safe and secure, and that includes her. Plus, I know that you still need to get some stuff for her nursery."

Abbacchio let out a giddy laugh. "I'll hold you to it. Thank you so much, Bruno. Really, I mean it."

"I know you do."

Abbacchio diverted his focus once again to his daughter, almost finished with her meal. He couldn't believe that during the worst moments of his life, when he took bribes and heavily drank his sarrows away, he created something so pure… so innocent.

"Liliana," he said, indifferent to Bucciarati's confused eyebrow raise. "Her name is Liliana."

A smile returned to Bucciarati's face.

"That's a beautiful name, Leone."

Maybe Abbacchio's heart could return to its former self after all.