Chapter 32: Accidental Doctor Daddy: Chapter 32

I’d always prided myself on composure—working in the ED had taught me how to thrive when chaos raged. I loved being the calm, level headed one in a storm. But as I left work this evening, I couldn’t deny the tension in my shoulders, the solid set of my jaw. Chaos was taking its toll.

My son still wasn’t responding to my messages, and his silence gnawed at me. I’d done what I had to do, telling him about the twins and my relationship with Ella. Honesty was the only way forward. Now, he was holed up in that questionable loft, ignoring every attempt I made.

Fine. If he wouldn’t come to me, I’d go to him. I’d raised that boy. I wasn’t about to let him spiral without at least making an effort.

Traffic moved sluggishly through the city, the orange glow of streetlights illuminating my thoughts. The way he’d stormed out upon learning the truth of the matter…it stung, but I’d known it could happen.

Better face it now than live a lie. Or worse—have him find out on his own.

I parked at the edge of the run-down lot adjacent to his building. Typical. He insisted on living in a half-gentrified neighborhood, citing “vibe” and “artistic atmosphere”, as if that made up for a lack of safety. He had enough in his trust fund to live somewhere better. I was pretty sure he picked this neighborhood to spite me.

I buzzed the metal door at his loft, letting the speaker crackle. No response initially, but I wasn’t leaving without seeing him. After the third try, a static-laced voice barked a terse acknowledgment. The door clicked open. Not exactly a red-carpet invite, but I’ll take it.

Inside, I climbed the rickety stairs, ignoring the stench of stale cigarettes and questionable housekeeping. Tension tightened my gut with each step. His door was half-open, neon light spilling into the corridor. I stepped in, eyes adjusting to the dim interior.

The place was a wreck—beer cans, empty liquor bottles, and the stale odor of a wasted weekend. Some furniture was overturned, or that might have been how he kept things. Crumpled mail sat atop horizontal surfaces with no rhyme or reason. Tall canvases lined the walls. Four of them, each as tall as me, had been painted with various themes and designs. But he’d taken a can of red paint to them, and a slash of crimson ruined the artwork.

Goddamn it, Leonardo.

He sprawled on a battered couch, hair a mess, eyes red-rimmed. A bottle of cheap whiskey perched on the scarred coffee table, full-to-spilling ashtrays scattered around. The sight made my chest tighten, but I kept my expression calm.

This was the kind of chaos that made me lose my calm. “Leonardo.”

“Dad,” he said, voice slurred. “Didn’t expect you to come.”

I scanned the chaos, forcing a steady tone. “You buzzed me in, so here I am. You haven’t answered my calls. I needed to check on you.”

He let out a bitter laugh, fumbling with the whiskey bottle. “Because you’re worried, right? About your new babies, your new…everything else. Thought you’d see if your old son’s still alive?”

“You’re my family,” I said flatly. “That hasn’t changed.”

He swigged from the bottle, dribbling whiskey down his chin. “Oh, sure. Family. Since when, Dad? You’re off playing hero doctor, hooking up with my ex, having babies, and only now you remember you have a son.”

“Stop with the cheap shots. You know that’s not how things are. You’re not a child anymore. I’m here because I care.”

He sneered, eyes darting away. “Care. Right. Where was that care when Mom was coughing up blood?”

The old accusation, but it landed every time he wielded it. “She hid it from me. By the time I knew, it was too late. You know this.”

He lurched upright, unsteady. “You’re a doctor. You should’ve known. Mom died because you were never around. You were always at the hospital. You saved strangers but not her. That tells me what you think of family.”

“I can’t rewrite the past. If I could, I’d have saved your mother a thousand times by now. But I won’t apologize for trying to save lives. I have provided for you and Gina as best I could.”

“Sure. Vacations, toys, all the latest shit. You gave us everything.” He barked a mirthless laugh. “Everything except yourself. We needed you, and you vanished. Now you’ve got new kids—kids with Mariella.”

“She’s the mother of my twins, yes. But that doesn’t change who you are to me.”

“Why did you have to tell me, anyway?”

“How would you have reacted had you found out on your own?”

He snorted derisively but said nothing. He knew I was right.

I sighed. “And because honesty is the only way to keep a family alive. If you’re mother had told me⁠—”

“That’s on you!” he barked, pointing at me. “Don’t lecture me about honesty when it’s your fault she was neglected to death!”

I closed my eyes for a moment. Not to ignore him, but to stop seeing what he had become. A bitter, angry man who hated everyone in the world, including himself.

“Leonardo, you are my son. You will always be my son. I love you⁠—”

He flung the whiskey bottle across the couch, liquid sloshing. “Oh spare me. I told Mariella all about the asshole father who never gave a damn. Guess she’s into older men with hero complexes. Good for you, Dad. Round two of fatherhood. But she’ll realize I wasn’t lying about you soon enough. And then where will you be? A sad old man, all alone.”

Pain twined with irritation. “I’m not here to fight about the past, Leo. I’m here to see if you’re all right.”

He lunged forward, eyes bloodshot, breath reeking of stale liquor. “Go to hell. And take your new babies and my pretty ex with you.”

My jaw clenched, but I refused to lose my temper. “I won’t leave you in this pit. Drink some water, let’s talk.”

“I don’t need your help or your guilt trips. Go play doting daddy with those brats. I’m done.”

A flicker of cold rage pulsed through me at him calling the twins brats, but I reined it in. He was drunk, lashing out. “I won’t beg, but I’m not walking away from you either.”

“Get out,” he repeated, voice cracking. “You should’ve saved Mom, but you didn’t. So don’t pretend you can save me.”

I knew he was hurting. But that didn’t stop the barb from landing. “I did what I could. I’m doing what I can now. Let me help you.”

He muttered a curse, turning his back on me, shoulders sagging with either anger or despair. The neon sign cast harsh pink shadows, emphasizing the hollows under his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not abandoning you. If you need me, call. If you don’t, I’ll still check in.”

He didn’t answer, just huddled on the couch like a wounded animal. I stared a moment longer, lamenting the gulf between us, then turned on my heel and strode out.

No point in lingering. He’s made his choice for tonight.

Outside, night draped the street in murky gloom. I slid into my car, shutting the door with a controlled sigh.

That stung more than I care to admit.

Leonardo’s words echoed in my soul. But I refused to yield to self-pity. I’d spent my life forging a path in medicine, providing for my kids, saving countless lives. I gave people what they needed. That was a doctor’s duty. If my son needed a scapegoat for his pain, I’d be that scapegoat.

Sometimes, fatherhood demanded we step into the line of fire, risking heartbreak and blame. But I’d do it again and again for my children—both the grown one raging in a dingy loft and the newborns who needed me. This was my second chance at a family, and I wouldn’t let them down.

Honesty had come at a stiff price, but I’d pay it, no matter how high.