24. Emilio
As I sat in my dimly lit office, the weight of Crino”s words still pressed heavily on my mind. The revelation that the Mancini family had been following orders from a more powerful, unseen force unsettled me to my core.
I had always been prepared for the vicious battles within our world, but to realize that there might be a puppeteer pulling the strings from the shadows was a different kind of fear.
Enzo, my ever-loyal second-in-command, entered the room, his face reflecting the same concern that gnawed at me.
”Emilio,” he began, ”this changes everything. We”ve been fighting for so long, but now it seems like we”ve only been pawns.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair, frustration and helplessness coiling within me. ”I know, Enzo. Crino”s revelation has shaken me to my core. But dwelling on it won”t help us. We need a new plan. We need more information.”
He nodded, leaning against the desk. ”So, what do you intend to do? How do we proceed from here?”
”It”s time to take control of the situation.”
Enzo studied my face, recognizing the determination that fueled my words. ”And how do you plan to do that?”
”I”ll confront my father,” I declared, ”and tell him Crino”s words. It”s a matter of filial piety, a last act of respect before I break these suffocating bonds.”
Enzo”s eyes bore into mine, understanding the gravity of my decision. ”Are you sure about this, Emilio? It”s a dangerous path you”re choosing.”
”I”ve never been more certain,” I affirmed, ”I’ve tried doing this slowly, edging my way to freedom, but this is where I take a stand.”
”You”re not going back to Griselda yet?” Enzo inquired, his voice tinged with concern.
I hesitated, torn between the urgency of addressing the newfound revelation and the longing to be with Griselda. ”I will, Enzo, but I need to speak to my father first.”
Enzo nodded, understanding the conflict within me. ”Do you want me to accompany you, Emilio?”
I appreciated his offer but shook my head. ”There”s no need, Enzo. I must do this alone.”
He furrowed his brows, worry evident in his eyes. ”Are you sure, Emilio? It”s a risky move.”
”I have to face him,” I affirmed, my determination unwavering. ”I need to know the truth, and I need him to know that I”m breaking free from this cycle.”
Enzo regarded me for a moment, then relented. ”Alright, I know you will tread carefully. A lot is riding on this for all of us.”
”I understand,” I assured him, grateful for his unwavering support. ”Before I go, I”ll freshen up.”
“And Emilio?” I turned back, looking into Enzo’s serious, gray eyes. “Take the new car; it might come in handy.” He threw me the key, and I smiled. He always had my back.
I left Enzo and made my way to what I referred to as “my quarters” at the lab. The bathroom mirror reflected a face marked by battles, both seen and unseen. Weariness etched lines into my features, but my resolve remained unbroken. I splashed water on my face, letting it clear my mind.
As I looked at my reflection, memories of the past surged forward, intertwining with the present. My father”s stern teachings, the weight of expectations placed upon us as sons, the struggles of getting Royalty rentals off the ground and building a new future—each fragment of my life seemed to converge in this moment.
The fresh suit I had changed into felt restricting as I made my way through the Fiore family house. Its grandeur bore witness to the centuries-old legacy, a reminder of the expectations that loomed over the males in each generation.
Uncle Luigi, surprised by my unannounced appearance, questioned me as I entered. ”Emilio, is something the matter?”
”I need to speak to Father,” I replied curtly, unwilling to delve into details.
He studied my face, likely detecting my grave determination. ”Very well. He”s in his study.”
I proceeded through the familiar corridors, past portraits of ancestors who had carried the same weight of responsibility. Arriving at my father”s study, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the confrontation ahead.
He glanced up from his desk, surprise momentarily flickering across his slightly wrinkled features before he masked it.
”Emilio,” he greeted, composed as always. ”To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
”I”ve come to discuss a matter of great importance,” I replied, stepping forward but not sitting down.
He leaned back, steepling his fingers. ”I”m listening.”
”I recently had an encounter with Crino Mancini,” I began, scrutinizing his reaction.
He raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. ”Oh? And what happened during this encounter?”
My father, Don Giovanni Fiore, sat across from me in his opulent study. The room exuded power and control, much like the man himself. I took a deep breath, attempting to steady my nerves.
”He revealed something before his demise,” I continued, choosing my words carefully.
”Crino is dead?” The surprise in my father”s voice was palpable, and I could see the initial signs of concern etching across his features.
”Yes,” I confirmed, my voice unwavering.
”How did this happen?” His inquiry was sharp, a demand for details.
He leaned forward, eyes fixed on mine, awaiting an explanation.
”I killed him,” I stated matter-of-factly, suppressing the tide of emotions that threatened to rise within me.
”You killed him?” His frown deepened, and a hint of disapproval laced his voice. ”I expected you to handle this situation discreetly. Nevertheless, continue. Tell me how it unfolded.”
Despite the weight of the moment, a slight tremor coursed through my hands. I fought to maintain a composed exterior.
”Father, what is of paramount importance, more so than the act of killing Crino, are his last words.” I paused, making sure I have my father’s full attention. “He claimed that the Mancini family was merely a pawn in a much larger game, orchestrated by a mastermind obscured in the shadows.”
”A mastermind?” My father repeated, absorbing the gravity of the revelation. ”Did he provide any indication of who this mastermind might be? Or what their motives are?”
I shook my head, the uncertainty of it all gnawing at me. ”No specifics were given. But a force beyond the vendetta between our families is at play. This feud might be part of a larger, more intricate plan.”
He sat back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him, deep in thought. I couldn”t help but wonder what was going through his mind. Was he hiding something?
”What”s going on, Father?” I asked, my voice steady but tinged with urgency. ”Do you have any knowledge of what Crino was hinting at?”
He met my gaze, his eyes steady, and replied, ”No, Emilio. I”m as much in the dark as you are.”
Yet, as he spoke those words, I caught a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a brief moment where fear and uncertainty danced before he masked it again. The realization shook me. He was lying.
When it came down to it, when the Fiore family was facing an opponent that could potentially unravel us, he chose to stay silent, keeping information to himself. My jaw clenched.
I nodded reluctantly. Trapped within a web of secrets, there was nothing left to say. I turned to leave, trepidation filling me. What was my father hiding? What could be so dire that he couldn”t disclose it to me, even at this critical juncture?
I paused at the door, hesitating, but I did not dare to back at my father. The revelation about Crino’s words had opened a Pandora’s box. Our family, once established by a bedrock code of loyalty and honor, now seemed more like a hand of cards, precariously being gambled at a blackjack table.
Unraveling this tangled tapestry of hidden motives and concealed truths was no longer just about my freedom, not even about my possible future with Griselda. I had to get to the truth for my family’s sake.
The path ahead was unclear, but one thing was certain — I couldn”t afford to be naive anymore. I had to immerse myself in the world of the Mafiosi to navigate the shadows of my father”s world and emerge with the truth, no matter the cost.