Chapter 13 #2
“Sugnu Antonella,” I say to him. “Comu ti chiami?”
“Rosario,” he says. He had my back before, and I’m building a relationship. It’s a strategy. The more of a person I am to them, the less likely they are to turn on me.
“Me and Totò over there—“ he points at the silent man in the back, “Are the capo mandamento he informed, and we were told that you are the most important, to always honour famiglia.”
I squint my eyes slightly. It feels hard to trust right now, because I don’t know any of them.
“And why did he tell you that is?” I ask.
“A word,” he says. “A word given is the law.”
“It is,” I say, nod, and walk over to the silent man called Totò.
“You disapprove,” I say. “Why?”
He considers me for a moment.
“Not necessarily. There are many powerful men waiting to be next in line,” he says in a rather sophisticated English. “I believe the odds are against you.”
“I understand,” I say. “What were the odds of me knocking him out?” I ask and tilt my head to the muscle guy on the floor.
Totò smirks.
I take him in. He is different from the others. He wears a casual suit combined with jeans. Overall, the impression is quite colourful compared to all the others, which are dressed in black or grey.
“What did he mean to you, Giuseppe?” I ask.
“He raised me like a son,” he says. “I have to say, I was astonished he did not consider me. But one day he came to me and said, “Salvatore—“
“Wait, you’re Salvatore?” I ask.
“I am, Totò is merely a nickname.”
My body relaxes slightly because the last entry in my father’s journal has been a name, along with a scribbled note: Salvatore. The only one to be trusted. I don’t know why I trust my father’s words, but it feels right—although I will not lower my guard.
“He did consider you,” I say, and Salvatore raises his eyebrows.
I mouth the word ‘later’.
“Anyone else who questions my authority?” I ask.
No one reacts.
“Good,” I say. “We will clean up this mess here. I’m leaving you in charge, Rosario. I don’t want to see one drop of blood when I come back. I trust you to take care of it,” I say, and Rosario nods at me.
“Salvatore, you are coming with me; we have a meeting to prepare. If anyone has an issue with anything, you come to me directly. I might be young, you might not know me, but I grew up here, and I know and hear many things,” I say as I walk out the door.
One day, this will all come down on me. Lies like this can’t be upheld.
“And tell him to decide whether his loyalties lie with me now or if he needs further convincing when he wakes up,” I add without looking as I step over the man on the floor.
Salvatore follows me.
We walk. I take him to the room I was in before, the one plastered with pictures of me.
“I was told you are the only one I shall trust,” I say after closing the door. Salvatore glances around the room and is visibly taken aback.
“Have you never been in here?” I ask.
“Never, it was out of bounds.”
“Well, it isn’t now. You see, Giuseppe planned this a long time ago. I was instructed to trust you, so I will.”
I won’t trust any of them entirely, because Giuseppe was a lying bastard and a rapist, but for the time being, I’ll pretend to.
Salvatore nods.
“Do you hold a grudge against me?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says.
“Because it should have been you?”
“Yes,” he says again. He seems to be a man of few words.
“Has Giuseppe told you why he didn’t give it to you?”
“Yes,” he says hesitantly. “Because he didn’t see me as a leader, rather as a valuable asset,” he says and walks down a row of photos hanging on the wall.
“What made him think that you are not a leader?”
“I am gay,” he says, quite bitterly. “And apparently a woman as a leader is less appalling than a gay man.”
I almost choke on my own saliva. Because I am the gayest gay from the moment I started thinking about others.
“What makes you so valuable?” I ask to navigate the topic elsewhere.
“I have studied overseas,” he says. “Ivy League, many contracts with relevant positions.”
“You are the international man,” I say, and he seems surprised I know of everything that happens outside of Sicily, but then, he doesn’t know what Kat told me about the organisation.
“I suppose I am,” he says.
“I want you to be my right hand,” I say, because I need his trust, his commitment, his connection. “Meaning, you will be in on everything. I will give you privileges he didn’t give you. Is that something you are willing to do?”
“I am,” he says, turning to me. “I assume there is a condition.”
“There is,” I say. “I am entrusting you with everything. Therefore, your loyalty will lie with me, unconditionally. You will be my eyes and ears, you will not keep anything from me, and you will swear to it with your life.”
I’d make a good villain in a movie, I tell myself in my mind. That act was actually great.
“I swear to my life,” he says.
There is a moment of pause.
“Do you have family, Salvatore?”
“A sister. My mother died, and my father was murdered for his—“ he hesitates. “Misdeeds.”
Suddenly, a shudder runs over my arms with goosebumps spreading over them. I stare at him, and the question comes over my lips without me actively thinking.
“Who is your father?” I ask.
He does not look at me, but stands in front of the massive painting.
“Antonio,” he says, and my entire body clenches. “Antonio Amato. Which makes you my sister, half-sister, but still, you are family.”
A brother, says a voice of longing in my head. A voice I silence. It has no place in me anymore. It is the voice of the woman I was. The person I am now stares at the man in front of her like dead inside.
From an objective perspective, my life should fall apart right now. I should be horrified, have another panic attack, but I feel nothing. Just nothing.
“Who was your mother?” I ask.
“Giuseppe’s sister,” he says, and I blow my cheeks, because my mind finally understands how everything is connected.
“How many siblings are there?” I ask.
“Giuseppe, Rosalia and Domenica,” he says. “Domenica, my mother, died in 2002.”
“The year I was born,” I say.
“Yes. She killed herself because she could not stand knowing Antonio had been made to have another child with another woman.”
“Fuck,” I say with my hand in front of my mouth.
She killed herself because I exist, says the voice in my head.
“It was Giuseppe,” I say. “He made him do it, didn’t he?”
“He did,” he says. “My mother could not bear more children.”
“What a piece of shit,” I say as words slip from my mouth.
Salvatore chuckles and says nothing.
This is such a mess. And I somehow managed to land in the middle of it.
“You know,” I say. “A week ago, I was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, dreaming of a life in London with my best friend, a family, and starting my PhD. Now, I am here, knowing my best friend was a staged actor, after being abducted, tortured, almost killed, with a brother I didn’t know there is, and I was made head of an organisation that generally does not accept women. ”
“Life can be quite ungrateful,” he says.
I want to agree. And yet, I don’t. Thinking back to the life I had, there is no way back to it. I can miss it all the way I want, and it will not change the fact that I can never go back.
I am not Sophie anymore. Sophie is someone from the past, someone like an old friend, who vanished the moment I learned my entire life was a lie.
I lost track of Sophie. Nothing connects me to her anymore. Maybe I was never Sophie. Sophie was a version I hid behind to occlude who I really was.
I am Antonella. Antonella Amato. And I am the Capo.