Valentino
The meeting stretched well into the night, but there was no urgency to leave. Too much was at stake, with plans unfolding, new alliances being forged, and the satisfaction of solidified control settling in.
When I pull into my driveway, I notice the lights still on at my aunt and uncle's house across the street. Antonio's car is parked out front, along with several others I recognize. I’m sure they’ve gathered after hearing about Marco’s death.
I feel nothing. Why would I, when it was my order that sealed his fate? But I know the show must go on. I’ll have to get Alessia and break the news to my mother, then make an appearance, playing the part of the grieving nephew.
As for my wife—I’m sure she’s learned her lesson after spending the day locked in the basement.
“Get up,” I order.
“Fuck you,” Alessia retorts, still defiant.
“Don’t tempt me.” I grab her arm and pull her to her feet. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time for that right now. We need to collect my mother and go to Aunt Nicki’s.”
She stiffens. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Marco was killed tonight,” I say, my tone flat and rehearsed as if I’m reading a script I’ve prepared in my mind.
Her breath catches. “What? How?”
“He was shot on the way to our meeting.”
“How did anyone get past his guards?” she asks, her disbelief palpable.
“He didn’t have any with him.”
“How could you let him go without guards?” she snaps, her voice rising with frustration.
I whirl on her, irritation flaring. “Stop fucking questioning me.”
She presses her lips together, wisely dropping the subject, and we head for my mother’s house.
When we arrive, I let myself in and find her asleep in my father’s chair. She hasn’t slept in their bed since he died, choosing his chair instead. I find the whole thing ridiculous.
“Domenica,” Alessia says, gently shaking her shoulder.
My mother stirs, blinking up at us. “Alessia? ? What are you both doing here?” she asks, glancing between us with confusion.
Her eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”
“Uncle Marco was shot and killed tonight.” I force my voice to break, just enough to sound sincere.
Her hand flies to her mouth, and her face crumples as tears begin to spill. “Not Marco, too.”
“It’s a tragedy,” I murmur, offering false gravity. “We need to be with the family right now.”
My mother nods, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. “Let’s go,” she manages.
Alessia takes her by the hand, and together, we leave the house and walk next door. Dante’s standing by the door when we arrive. The embodiment of loyalty in the face of tragedy.
Inside, the house is filled with hushed voices. My mother immediately seeks out Nicki, embracing her tightly, both of them overcome by their shared sorrow. I watch the scene unfold before I approach my aunt. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Uncle Marco was a good man and will be greatly missed.”
Tears flow freely down her face, her sorrow raw and unfiltered. “Thank you, .” She dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know,” I reply, my tone low and soothing. “I’ll find out who did this. I promise.”
Moving through the room, quiet words of comfort are offered where needed, reinforcing the image of a strong, compassionate leader.
Antonio steps out of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Vigo. I didn’t expect you tonight.”
“I know the pain you’re feeling right now.” I pause. “And knew I needed to be here.”
A quiet nod follows. "It means a lot."
My hand settles firmly on his shoulder. “Uncle Marco was loyal to both my father and me. I’ll do everything in my power to avenge him.”
Antonio’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening. “I’d like to be the one to handle the guilty party.”
“Of course, cousin.” I meet his gaze with practiced sincerity. “But for now, we need to focus on supporting the family and arranging the funeral.”
“Yes, I do.” His response is clipped. With that, he steps away, moving to sit beside his mother on the sofa.
I stay just long enough to offer a few more words of comfort, each one carefully calculated. Everyone needs to see me not only as the grieving nephew, but also the Capo ready to avenge his uncle’s death. But I can't linger too long.
Turning to Alessia, who’s sitting quietly near my mother, I say, “We’re leaving.”
She hesitates, “This is bringing up memories of losing your father. I want to be here for her.”
“You’re coming with me,” I reply coldly, dismissing her concern.
“, she needs someone tonight,” Alessia insists, her voice soft but pleading.
“My mother will be fine. We’re leaving. Now.”
Not wanting to cause a scene, Alessia swallows her protest.
As we step outside, my facade of grief fades, replaced by the cold, unshakable determination that’s been driving me all along. My plan is in motion, and the pieces are already falling into place. Soon enough, everyone in this organization will be forced to choose where their loyalties lie.
And there will be only one option—me.