Chapter 52
Chapter fifty-two
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
Poe’s verses, motives, and woe fill my head as I sit in my study, drumming my fingers on my father’s desk.
Darkness fills the majority of the room, except the few shadows that are chased away by the light from the single desk lamp.
An orange glow bleeds through the closed curtains as night approaches.
I don’t know how long I’ve sat here but time seems to stand still.
Doubt fills me.
Have I really been worthy of the title of capo all these years?
For years I’ve been able to eliminate my enemies with ease.
Now when the threat is internal and the chess pieces are stacked against me, I’m folding like an exposed king.
I look down at my father’s desk.
I don’t know what I expected to find by coming here.
Peace? Clarity? Comfort? Answers?
The future of the family hangs in the air and the weight of it crushes down on me.
After the visit to Madeline’s office, Dominic went back to his headquarters to do more digging into where Lucia was hidden.
I returned home to an empty house. Mama, Nonna, and Gigi have gone to the hospital to visit Matteo.
I remember my father sitting at this desk. He always looked so regal and in-charge. Visions of him carrying out meetings, counting money, and making deals fill my head. There’s always a sense of familiarity when I sit here as if his spirit resides within the wood.
I swivel back and forth in the big leather chair.
“Whoever Madeline was working with must have thought she would talk after what happened to Elio and that’s what got her killed,” I mutter aloud.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the desk, and press my fingers to my temples.
The only good part about this day was that Matteo had woken up from his coma and was in stable condition.
However, there’s still no word on where Lucia is.
I pray she’s okay.
I tap the mouse. The computer screen lights up revealing my email with no messages. I glance at my phone. Nothing. No muffled voice giving out warnings or a hint as to where Lucia could be.
Grumbling, I begin to open the drawers and shuffle through organized files, pens, and envelopes. I should be heading back to the hospital where the rest of my family is, but I can’t. I can’t face them knowing I don’t have the answer to calm them.
I’m the boss.
I’m responsible for their well-being.
I need to get answers and find out where Lucia is. I hope she’s okay and not hurt.
I slam one of the drawers. Where could she be?
My fingers slip under the desk and rub across the gritty surface.
I pause.
Something is sticking out. It’s like a piece of the wood has split.
I press against it.
Click.
A hidden panel opens. My hands slip inside and pull out a bundle of letters tied together with a worn navy ribbon. As I lift them out, I see one word scrawled across the top in fancy script.
Francesca
My heart plummets.
My father saved the love letters he wrote to Francesca?
Why would he do that? He married my mother.
I’m hesitant to open them. I’m scared of what I might read, but curiosity gets the better of me.
I untie the knot and open the first letter.
My Love Francesca,
I can no longer hide my feelings for you.
Our friendship must end because I wish it to be more.
Every night I close my eyes and see your face.
You haunt me in the most beautiful way. I want your laughter in my kitchen, your body in my bed, your soul by my side, and your heart in my hands.
The night your hand brushed mine, you looked at me like I wasn’t a failure, and I started to believe again.
My love for you is stitched into my skin and will never be removed.
-Sal
Sal!
My heart drops to my stomach.
It can’t be.
Salvatore.
Why the hell is he writing her a letter?
I flip to the next one.
My Love Francesca,
I beg you with everything in my soul please don’t go with Vincenzo.
He isn’t the right man for you. I know he’s my best friend, but he’s not the best person for you.
Your life will be hell. Your father will never allow it and neither will his.
This will start a war and you may find yourself dead.
Don’t choose him. I love you more than he will ever and I’ll treat you like the queen you deserve and not as the wife of a mafia boss.
You’ll never make it out alive. Take heed of what I say, sweet girl.
-Sal
I thank god it’s not my father who wrote these.
I continue reading.
My Love Francesca,
When this is over, it’ll be you and me. No lies. No sons of mob bosses getting in the way. I’ll find a way to make it right, even if I have to burn for it. I’m not asking you for forgiveness. I’m the right choice to make.
-Sal
My Love Francesca,
I should have known you’d choose him. How could you? Even though we were friends, I believed we would be lovers soon. Instead you chose the son of a rival mob boss over me.
You think his name opens doors that mine can’t.
You chose him over me when I protected you.
I bled for you.
You were mine.
But you chose him.
Now you’ve unleashed a version of me you would have never seen if you stayed. While you’re playing house in the Cipriani compound know that you’ll carry my love like a curse.
You and Vincenzo will pay.
-Sal
My mind spins as I try to make sense of it all.
Salvatore wrote these.
Salvatore was in love with Francesca.
But he and my father were best friends.
What the hell kind of history did they have?
They both fell in love with the same woman.
But Francesca chose my dad and Salvatore vowed revenge.
Yet my dad made him the consigliere of our family.
The computer dings startling me from my thoughts. It’s from Rosa Marconi.
Dear Cipriani,
My neighbor is helping me send this to you. I have attached what you requested. It’s blurry but might be helpful. Take care.
-R
Opening the attachment, I scroll through the assortment of scanned photos. The coloring is faded and some of the pictures are grainy. There are people laughing, hugging, and kissing. Then I flip to a group photo of the whole wedding party.
I freeze.
The picture is blurry but there’s a face I would recognize anywhere.
I press the buttons to zoom in and the photo gets clearer.
Aldo’s daughter stands in the center of the group wearing her wedding gown with a big smile on her face.
On the right side of her stands her father, Aldo.
But on the left side is someone who has been like a second father to me since I was a child.
Bruno!
My eyes are glued to the screen as I feel my blood turning to ice.
Bruno was associated with the Marconi Family?
Clicking on the second attachment reveals the list of guests. I search the names and gasp as the cursive script confirms what I fear most.
Adriano Bruno Marconi - cousin of the bride.
I’m numb.
Any and every emotion I could have ever felt has been sucked from me thanks to the letters and the pictures.
“They did it?” I whisper. “They’re behind all of it?”
No. It can’t be them.
They had been attacked too.
It doesn’t make sense.
They couldn’t have done it.
They are family.
They are second fathers to me.
They looked out for me after Dad died.
I don’t believe it.
I won’t believe it.
Fumbling for my phone, I dial Dominic. It feels like eternity passes between rings.
I snatch up the letters and stumble around Dad’s desk toward the closet to grab my coat.
He doesn’t answer.
It goes to voicemail.
“Dominic, it's me.” I open the closet door and grab my coat. “I need you to come to my house right now. I - I think I know who's behind this, but I don’t know…
A sharp pain cracks through the back of my skull.
The phone slips from my hand. I try to grab it, but my vision is already blurring.
My ears ring and my body slumps forward into someone’s arms.
They pick me up and carry me.
I try to get a look at their face, but darkness swallows me before I can get a glimpse.