CHAPTER II #2
As the gates opened with a soft creak, we drove along the winding stone driveway that curved through a landscaped courtyard filled with colorful flowers and neatly trimmed hedges.
The car stopped in front of the grand entrance, where two guards stood before an elaborate door embellished with intricate carvings and elegant wall sconces.
“Remember,” Dante began, “don’t go off the rails. Alphonse won’t hesitate to kill you.”
I smirked, unfazed by the man who waited for me behind those castle walls.
The driver opened the door with a practiced gesture, guiding us to the threshold. One by one, we climbed out and followed Tony up the steps toward the front doors.
“Ciao,” an older woman greeted us with a warm smile as they swung open.
“Ciao,” we replied. She stepped aside, allowing us to enter.
We followed Tony down a long hallway to a pair of glass doors, monitored by two guards.
Beyond the doors, the room welcomed us with tall windows that framed a view of the mountains.
A grand piano stood in the corner of the room, its polished surface gleaming under the soft light.
A violin rested beside it. My heart ached at the sight, memories of my angel flooding my mind.
“Dante.” The deep, resonant voice pulled me away from my thoughts.
Alphonse Gambino stood before us, taller than I had imagined, his presence commanding in a fitted navy sweater and tan slacks. What captured my attention most were his amber-colored eyes, glowing like warm honey, just like Gigi’s. And he was staring at Dante as if he’d seen a ghost.
His jaw went slack, and the blood drained from his face. He took a stumbling step back. “Dante?” The name was a mere whisper.
“Hello, Al.” Dante replied.
“How are you alive?” Alphonse breathed.
“I never died, Al.”
Alphonse shook his head. “No. No, you are dead. You didn’t survive…”
“Al, why would you think I was dead? Did someone tell you that?” Dante pressed, his brow furrowing.
“I mourned you, Dante. The day you left…you died. How the fuck are you standing in my house?”
Dante took a tentative step forward. “Al, what happened after we left Italy?”
Alphonse’s face twisted in pain. “I lost everything that day.” Before Dante could respond, Alphonse closed the distance between them, enveloping Dante in a fierce embrace.
“It’s so good to see you, my friend,” he murmured, patting Dante on the back.
“Same here,” Dante replied.
Alphonse shifted his gaze to me as he pulled away from Dante. “Nico Moretti.”
“The one and only,” I responded.
“And who’s your friend?” He tipped his chin toward Luca, who stood slightly behind me.
“I’m Luca. Nico’s cousin,” he replied, unflinching under Alphonse’s scrutiny.
“Hmm.” He nodded before shifting his focus to Dante.
“Why does it seem this isn’t a friendly visit?
If my supposedly dead friend brought the Chicago don to my doorstep, it means things cannot be good.
” His expression tightened, furrows carving into his forehead.
“I hope you’re not bringing his bullshit into my home. ”
Dante exhaled slowly. “We need your help, but I need you to keep your head.”
“Don’t talk to me like I need training wheels.” The muscles in his jaw tightened as if he was fighting to keep his temper in check. The air crackled with tension with the potential for an explosion. “You know me better than that.”
Dante swallowed hard, the tension coiling tighter in the room. “It’s about Angelica.”
“What about her?” Alphonse’s features hardened into a mask of stone.
Dante took a shallow breath. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but…she’s dead, Al.”
“I’m aware of that,” he stated firmly, gathering his composure as if recalling a painful memory that was too hard to bear.
We all froze at his words.
“Wait. What? You knew?” Dante questioned.
“Yes,” Alphonse replied, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. “As you may recalled, I orchestrated a decoy, involving four of my most loyal men, believing it would draw the attention away from her father, but it didn’t work.
” Alphonse shook his head. “Her father’s men.
..were ready and killed them all. She never had the chance to escape. ”
Dante stared, his brow furrowed. “Is that why you never contacted me with updates? Because you thought she was dead?” he asked.
Alphonse nodded. “Not only that, but I thought you and your brother were also dead.”
“No, Al. You were given misinformation,” Dante insisted.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Alphonse shot back. “Just spit out whatever the hell you were going to say.”
“She lived, Al.”
“You lie,” he accused, his voice rising.
Dante held his gaze, his expression solemn. “I would never lie to you Al. Not about this. Not about her.”
Alphonse’s chest heaved. “But the decoy...” he whispered. “None of my men survived to tell me if you, Malik and Angelica made it out safely.”
“The decoy worked,” Dante stated.
Alphonse’s breath hitched. “What are you saying?”
“We had a secondary contingency in place,” Dante explained. “Your men noticed several of her father’s guards following the decoys, so at the last minute, Malik arranged a more secure, less obvious route for them to take. That diversion was just the trick to throw the guards off their trail.”
“She was alive?” Alphonse’s tone turned frigid, demanding.
“Yes. Angelica… she made a life for herself in Canada just like you wanted.”
“What happened to her?” Alphonse hissed.
Dante stepped back. “They found her, Al. And they…” He choked on the final words, tears welling in his eyes. “She was murdered this past spring. I’m so sorry, Al. I’m so sorry.”
Alphonse reared back, his expression shifting as if the ground beneath him had crumbled. It was clear that Gigi’s mother had meant everything to him, and losing her had carved a deep wound that would never truly heal.
In an explosive movement, Alphonse lunged at Dante, gripping him viciously around the collar. “Why didn’t you keep her safe?” he bellowed. “I trusted you and your brother to protect her!” His chest heaved, the intensity of his rage palpable.
“I know you did, and we did everything we could,” Dante tried to explain, but Alphonse wasn’t listening. His fury engulfed him like a raging fire. An emotion I knew deeply, one that resonated painfully within me.
“If she was alive this entire time… where the hell is Malik?” Alphonse spat.
“I don’t know. He disappeared a few weeks ago,” Dante choked out.
Alphonse shoved Dante back, the force sending him stumbling.
Alphonse turned away, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
He approached the fireplace, leaning his arms on the mantelpiece, his head lowered as if the world's burdens were bearing down on him. The heat from the flames matched the volcanic anger boiling within me at the thought of living in a world where Gigi didn’t exist. He must have felt the same at the thought of existing in a world without Angelica.
“How?” Alphonse’s voice emerged, hoarse, barely a whisper against the crackling fire.
“Don’t do this to yourself. The details don’t matter,” Dante said, his lips turned downward.
“You let me make that decision,” Alphonse demanded, a haunting plea. “Tell me.”
Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Alphonse slowly turned, his brown eyes locking onto Dante’s, a storm brewing within them.
“We don’t know who exactly,” Dante began. “All I know is that they beat her and…stabbed her.”
Jesus, fuck.
“And her daughter saw it all,” Dante concluded.
Alphonse’s eyes widened. “Daughter?”
Dante gave a solemn nod, his expression grave. “Yes.”
Alphonse froze, his gaze locked onto Dante as if trying to unravel the weight of that revelation.
“She was pregnant when she left Italy.” Dante took a deep breath before adding, “You have a daughter, Al.”
“A daughter?” Alphonse shook his head. “No. She would’ve told me. My bellissima would’ve told me.”
“She wanted to tell you, but she was terrified of breaking your heart, knowing you had a daughter out there that you couldn’t be with. Angelica thought she was doing the right thing by keeping it from you.”
A whirlwind of emotions played out on Alphonse’s face—grief, hurt, regret, love, and a simmering anger that threatened to boil over. “Where is my daughter now?”
“We aren’t sure, but that’s why we’re here,” Dante replied.
“Don’t you fucking tell me my daughter is dead, Dante. Don’t you even think about saying those words to me!” Alphonse’s voice thundered through the room, each syllable dripping with fury so raw it felt like it could rip the walls apart. His hands balled into fists.
“Why the hell are you here, Dante?” he spat, his breath ragged. “What does this have to do with my baby girl?” The question hung in the air, heavy and charged, like a loaded gun waiting to fire. One wrong word, one slip of the tongue, and Alphonse would pull the trigger.