The Don's Legal Eagle's Baby: An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance

35. Griselda

Istood on the threshold of my childhood home, face to face with my mother, after Emilio had dropped me off. As she opened the door, her eyes met mine, a small, sad smile playing at the corners of her lips. I couldn”t bring myself to smile. Unanswered questions and unresolved emotions weighed down my mind.

Noticing my solemn demeanor, my mother opened the door wider, motioning for me to step inside. The interior of the house enveloped me with a sense of familiarity as I walked through the hall. It had been a while since I had been here, and a lot had happened in the meantime.

I picked up a gentle scent of freshly brewed coffee. The soft, warm hues of the furnishings exuded an air of comfort that did nothing to soothe my nerves.

It was odd to notice how uneasy I felt in my mom’s house.

We made our way into the living room, and I saw two steaming cups of coffee sitting atop the small coffee table. I settled into the couch, clutching a cup in my hands.

Turning to face my mother, I mustered the strength to voice the one demand that had weighed heavily on my mind since the moment I had decided to confront her.

”I”m here,” I began, my voice steady despite the turmoil that churned within. ”So, explain everything.”

My mother’s gaze reflected my nervousness and apprehension.

”I didn”t tell you because I wanted you to be safe,” she admitted, her voice tinged with remorse. ”I never thought he would find us. I wanted you to live your life without the burden of knowing what he did.”

I gripped the cup tighter. ”I”m old enough to make my own decisions,” I asserted. ”I want to know the truth.”

My mother”s eyes held mine, pleading with mine for understanding.

”Your father is Riccardo Esposito,” she began, her voice low and laden with meaning as if I should recognize the name. ”He”s Don of the Esposito family.”

My mind reeled. He was part of the mafia?!

She continued, her voice tinged with sorrow as she recounted the family”s tumultuous history.

”Riccardo was once Riccardo Mancini and was set to inherit the Mancini family,” she explained, her gaze momentarily distant as she delved into the past. ”But everything changed when his trusted friend, Mathias Fiore, betrayed the family.”

Mathias Fiore? As in Emilio’s father?

“The events that followed led him down a path that made him become Don of the Esposito family.”

”What the fuck?” I murmured the words in a reflexive response, shaking my head in disbelief.

My mother continued to explain in a melancholy voice. ”But when Mathias betrayed them, it all went wrong. Your grandfather, who was the don of the Mancini family then, blamed your father for bringing shame to the family. He disowned Riccardo because your grandfather believed that your father was responsible for the loss that Mathias brought upon the Mancini family.”

”Riccardo saw no other option. He toiled tirelessly to establish his faction,” she recounted, her eyes clouded with memories. ”Meanwhile, his younger brother was appointed as the Don of the Mancini family. Tragically, he passed away after only a few years, leaving his son, Crino, to inherit the mantle.”

So Crino Mancini, Emilio’s enemy, was my cousin?! A slight nausea started growing in my belly.

I listened to my mother as she spoke about how the Mancini family declined under Crino”s leadership, casting a shadow over their once-mighty name.

My father, seizing the opportunity presented by the weakened state of the Mancini family, took it upon himself to manipulate his nephew. He painted Mathias Fiore”s betrayal as the root cause of their downfall, using it to sow the seeds of doubt and discord within Crino”s leadership.

My mother interrupted her account, getting up to stand over by the window. With a heavy sigh, she continued.

”Riccardo saw an opportunity to weaken both the Mancini and Fiore families,” she explained, the weight of her words hanging in the air. ”He held onto a deep-seated resentment toward his father for disowning him, blaming him for a betrayal that was not his own. His animosity extended to his brother, whom he believed had failed to bring him back into the fold after their father”s passing.”

The revelation hung in the air, the implications of my father”s calculated actions echoing within the room. The wounds of abandonment and injustice had festered within him, casting a dark shadow over his relationship with the family he had once called his own and the man who had long ago been his friend, Mathias Fiore.

However, he couldn”t bring himself to be the agent of the Mancini family”s destruction. Instead, he had sought to pit the two families against each other, using their resources and ambitions to bring about their downfall.

It was a strategy that would allow him to achieve his goal while keeping his own hands clean, effectively killing two birds with one stone.

My mother”s eyes held a deep tiredness as she continued her narrative, delving into the harrowing chapter of our lives that had unfolded when I was just a year old.

”Riccardo had become consumed by his lust for revenge,” she confessed, her voice quivering under the weight of the past. ”He had descended into a dark abyss, and I grew increasingly fearful for our safety.”

The fear that had gripped her heart ultimately led her to make a decision that would alter the course of our lives. When I was just a year old, she made the heart-wrenching choice to flee from Riccardo, desperate to protect us from the menacing shadow he had become. The journey to escape his reach was not an easy one, marked by a constant vigilance to avoid detection.

Over the years, she had worked tirelessly to erase any trace of our former identities, leaving behind the lives we had known and adopting new ones in their place.

The secrets of our past had been buried beneath layers of deception with a single purpose: to remain hidden from the vengeance of a man who had become unrecognizable in his obsession.

However, the past had resurfaced in the form of Mathias Fiore, who had appeared at her doorstep with palpable anxiety, seeking information about Riccardo. His inquiries had carried a veiled threat, a reminder of the danger that still loomed over our lives.

He had demanded answers, compelling my mother to reveal whether Riccardo was alive or not, under the ominous promise that he would pursue us, his threats extending to me.

The revelation of Mathias Fiore”s involvement in our lives left me dumbfounded. Suddenly, several pieces of the complex puzzle fell into place. I now understood the reason behind my mother”s visceral reaction upon hearing the name Fiore. It wasn”t just a matter of recognizing the name; it was an acknowledgment of the peril that it represented.

The fear in her eyes and the urgency in her voice when she had warned me about my life being in danger all made sense.

Emilio”s father, Mathias Fiore, was at the epicenter of the turmoil that had disrupted our lives. It was a revelation that left me struggling to grasp the depth of his involvement and the complexity of the web that entangled us all.

While understanding his motives provided a semblance of clarity, it didn”t absolve my own father”s actions or the responsibility he bore for his choices.

I found myself contemplating whether Emilio had any knowledge of his father”s past, but I swiftly dismissed the thought. There was no way he could have known. No, he didn”t know.

A heavy silence settled between my mother and me as I absorbed all that she told me. The truths she had shared only added to our burdens.

”This is why I didn”t want to tell you,” my mother murmured, her voice carrying the weight of her past decisions. I nodded, appreciating her reasoning. However, the need for answers still pulsed within me, refusing to be quelled by digging up the skeletons of the past.

”I know,” I replied softly, acknowledging the difficult choices she had made. ”But I needed to know.”

I gazed at her, my eyes searching for reassurance, seeking solace in the shared understanding of the turmoil that had shaped our lives. I couldn”t help but ask the question that had plagued my thoughts for so long.

”Has he ever come close to finding us?” I inquired, the tension lacing my words betraying the fear that still lingered within me.

My mother”s response was measured, her voice a testament to the resilience that had sustained us through the years. She recounted a few close calls that had threatened to expose our carefully guarded sanctuary.

Yet, her resourcefulness and the relationships she had cultivated, even during her time with my father, had served as a shield.

My mind circled back to the unsettling memory of Mathias”s visit, the underlying threat of his inquiries still lingering in the air. I turned to my mother, my brow furrowed with the weight of my questions.

”Why do you think he came, demanding to know about my father?” I asked, the unease evident in my voice.

My mother”s response was tinged with uncertainty, mirroring the bewilderment that had shrouded her during the encounter.

”I”m not sure,” she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of trepidation. ”But the urgency in his tone, the way he spoke... It was as though he was facing problems, and he thought they were because of Riccardo.”

In that poignant moment, I enveloped my mother in a tight embrace, both of us seeking solace in the reassuring presence of the other.

”Thank you for everything,” I murmured, my voice conveying my gratitude and a deep-seated appreciation for the sacrifices she had made. ”I know it couldn”t have been easy, running away with a child.”

Her embrace tightened around me, a silent acknowledgment of the struggles and hurdles we had faced together.

”I”m just happy you”re safe,” she whispered.

My mind raced back to the troubling accounts Emilio had shared regarding the persistent conflicts between the Fiore and Mancini families. I retraced the details my mother had just disclosed, a web of connections and implications knitting themselves together in my mind.

The urgency that had underscored Mathias” inquiries seemed to mirror the very issues that Emilio had highlighted, the continuous onslaughts and hostilities between the two families.

A dawning realization settled over me, the pieces of the intricate puzzle aligning in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. Could it be possible that the persistent attack that Emilio had faced and the escalating tensions were the result of my father”s calculated manipulations?

I thought about all the times my father”s actions had put Emilio in danger. What if one of Crino”s attempts on his life had succeeded? I shuddered at the idea.

How different would my life be right now if that had happened?