Chapter 35 Charlie
Charlie
From the shadows of the alleyway, a fragile older woman appears.
She looks just like me. My heart skips a beat while I stare at my mother; Caterina.
The woman Luciano told me was gone. So how is it possible that she’s standing before my eyes?
Beside her, Vince’s soldier shoves her forward roughly, each step forced.
Tears pool in her eyes as they glisten with pain.
“My baby, Charlotte,” she sobs, her voice trembling with a sorrow that twists my gut. She takes a step forward and reaches her arms out like she wants to touch me to make sure I’m real, but Vince tugs on the chains at her wrists, pulling her back to his side.
“What the fuck?” the words escape me, disbelief crashing over like a hurricane.
This woman is a mirror of me, yet she doesn’t carry the fire and ruthlessness from the stories everyone has told me.
She appears to be shattered, broken in ways I can barely comprehend.
My heart aches for her. What did they do to her? How long has she been with Vince?
I spin on Luciano, my voice shaking with rage and betrayal. “Did you know… she was alive?”
His piercing blue eyes meet mine, cold and guilt-filled. His silence cuts deep, confirming he knew all along. Doubt starts to gnaw at me about the brothers I began to trust, about my own loyalty, and most painfully, about Luciano. How could he do this to me? How could he be this merciless?
A cruel chuckle breaks the tension. Vince. The brothers have now emerged from their places, their faces etched with helplessness and uncertainty, unsure what they should do or how to help Caterina. My mother.
My eyes snap to Vince. “What have you done to her?”
His grin is vile as he grabs my mother by the chin, yanking her face toward him. “I found her,” he sneers, squeezing her jaw to make her look at him. “I was in Dallas for business when I saw her wandering the streets. She looked so lost, barely recognized me."
Caterina acts stiff, lifeless in his grip. She has become a shadow of the woman she used to be. Her obedience to him sends a chill down my spine. He leans down, pressing a forceful kiss to her lips. My stomach twists watching his cruelty.
“Release her to me, now,” I tell him.
“No.” He pushes her down like a rag doll.
She sits at his feet obediently while Vince undoes his pants, pulling out his dick and starts pissing on her.
I’m frozen on the spot. I can hear the rumbles coming from Luciano and the brothers, but I raise my hand in the air to signal for them and our soldiers to stand down.
The horror of what she must have endured churns my insides.
She pleads softly, voice breaking, but Vince’s response is cruel.
A vicious knee to her face sends her sprawling.
I glance around the docks. Vince’s soldiers laugh, while my soldiers recoil in disgust, shifting uneasily. “What do you want? My turf? Take it. Just release my mother,” I say.
“Like I said, it’s not yours to give,” Vince says. “I made her my wife.”
The weight of the truth crashes over me. If she’s his wife, then by law, the estate and everything we have would half belong to him, not me.
I’m dragged out of my thoughts by bullets erupting around us, chaos now unleashed.
“Stop!” I scream, desperately waving my hands out at our soldiers. “Don’t shoot, you might hit Caterina!”
Stefano grabs me around the waist, pulling me back, but I claw at him, begging him to let me go. Tears stream down my face as I watch from the sidelines, helpless. “We need you safe, Charlie,” he urges.
“She’s my only family. She’s my mother!” I cry out.
“We are your family too,” he replies, but I can’t risk it.
I may not personally know this woman, but she is my mother, my blood.
I’ve already lost my father, and if there’s a chance I can get my mother back, then I will.
I let the anger build up in me and use the training movements Carlo has taught me and break free, leaving Stefano stunned.
“Charlie!” he yells as I run back into the midst of the chaos.
Out the corner of my eye, I spot Vince dragging my mother down the alleyway she came from, her body barely moving, her knees scraping the ground. Her eyes find mine from across the yard. “Mother!” I scream, pulling my gun out of the back of my pants, running after them.
“Follow her!” Luciano commands. Mattia and Rocco bolt after me. I round the corner to see Caterina on her knees in front of Vince, his gun pressed to her temple. I freeze, my heart shattering instantly. I have a feeling what’s about to happen.
“Please,” I beg, my voice full of emotion. “She is all I have left.”
“Drop the guns,” Vince commands, grinning with sadistic satisfaction. I instantly drop my gun to the ground, kicking it away from me, anything to prove that I will obey. I just want my mother. I just want to get to know her.
Vince looks over to Rocco and Mattia. “Drop the guns,” he says again, but they hesitate.
“Do it,” I order, and they finally obey.
Terror roots me in place as I watch Vince. “The Cosa Nostra will be mine,” he declares, pulling the trigger.
“NOOO!” I scream as Caterina collapses before me.
“Fuck!” Mattia yells behind me, punching the nearby container.
Vince lets my mother’s body drop to the ground and marches away down the alley. His cruel laughter echoes off the containers. I fall to the ground, my eyes fixated on my mother’s dead body in front of me.
I crawl over to her, slowly hoping that this is just a sick game, it’s just red paint and she’ll wake up.
But she doesn’t. She doesn’t move. I clutch her lifeless body, rocking her back and forth, tears now blurring my vision.
“It’s okay, Mommy. Daddy’s waiting for you,” I whisper.
I pull back and brush my palm over her face, closing her eyes.
Mattia starts to pull at me. “We have to go, Charlie.”
“No. I’m not leaving her here.” I refuse to move.
“Move,” he insists, lifting her gently. Her body slumps against him.
Rocco pulls me up, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, a quiet reassurance that he’s got me.
And for once, I’m glad he’s here. I follow Mattia, my heart heavy with the pain of losing my only other blood family.
Our men bow their heads as we pass, a silent acknowledgment of the pain, the loss of their Donna.
I want her back, whole and unharmed, but I know that will never happen.
I can see the marks of torture Vince has left on her, and it fuels the storm inside me.
Luciano knew she was alive. He kept this truth from me. Everything has now changed.
Our car roars to life in seconds. I watch as Mattia carefully lays Caterina down in the backseat.
I storm over to the brothers, deep in conversation.
My fist finds Luciano’s face before anyone can stop me, a hard, furious punch that has our men frozen in shock.
“This is your fault!” I scream, striking his chest.
He stands there, unflinching, letting me unleash my anger onto him. “She was broken after your dad died. She needed the space,” he finally yells back at me.
“I don’t give a damn,” I shout through burning tears. “She should never have been left alone. Why were there no soldiers with her?”
His cold voice cuts through me. “It was her orders, Charlie, not mine.”
“I don’t want to see your face at the house tonight. If I do, I’ll kill you myself.” I turn to Carlo. “Search the bodies. If any of Vince’s men are still breathing, get them to the bunker. No one touches them but me.”
“Yes, Charlie.”
I glance over the fallen, some clutching wounds, others lifeless. The weight of it presses down. I bow my head, then move toward our other car with Rocco and Mattia behind me.
Mattia slips his hand into mine as we sit in the back of the car, his lips brushing my knuckles gently. “Charlie, I’m here. Always. Whatever you need.”
My walls crumble the moment Rocco pulls the car away from the dock.
Memories flood in: months of lies, betrayal, the mother I never got to know.
Tears stream down my face endlessly. Mattia pulls me onto his lap, his big arms wrap around me as I weep for the woman I thought my mother was, for the cold truth Luciano hid, for the family I lost before I even had it.
Exhaustion tries to pull me under, but I don’t give in.
Rocco drives us in silence the whole way home, and Mattia never lets go of me. “Thank you,” I whisper as we reach the house. They watch me, waiting quietly as I step inside. I know they’ll follow me inside in a second, but I appreciate the brief moment alone.
I grab Luciano’s favorite whiskey from the office and retreat to my room, deciding a scalding bath might help ease the pain in my chest, a burning cocoon where numbness and pain will blur.
I drink straight from the bottle, waiting for footsteps that never come.
When the bath finally turns cold, I decide it's time to hop out into my pajamas.
I wander the empty halls, a reminder of months of lies and a loss I never knew was possible.
I find myself standing outside the north suite at the master bedroom; Caterina’s room. Never before have I dared to enter her room, out of respect, denial. But it feels like it’s time. I push open the heavy double doors.
Grandeur unfolds before me in overwhelming waves.
A massive bed that seems too vast for one, a stone fireplace that promises warmth yet feels cold in its silence, and a plasma TV hanging from the ceiling.
The bathroom dwarfs mine, but it’s her walk-in robe that steals my breath: a shrine to power and privilege.
Designer clothes hang like armor, shoes lined up like soldiers, bags and glittering jewels arrayed like trophies won in a silent war of wealth and status.
My fingers tremble as I trail over the necklaces, each one a tangible piece of the legacy I’m supposed to inherit, yet it feels both foreign and heavy on my soul.
A small box on the coffee table anchors my attention.
I approach it with a hesitant heart, a whisper of dread curling in my stomach.
Opening it, I find a flood of memories—over a hundred photographs of me.
Tears spill freely, and I cradle the photos gently, sorting through each one, noticing how they’re all taken from a distance, like shadows watching me.
There I am at every age: my fifth birthday party at the park with Dad, our trip to Disneyworld when I was eight, photos of me at the shops with friends, running track in high school, me at prom, and lastly a photo of me at Dad’s funeral.
Snapshots of my life framed in secrecy. I spread them across the floor, my hands trembling as I arrange the pieces of my fractured past. How did we never see someone following us?
The realization hits me hard. The invisible threads of surveillance woven through every stage of my life, and the painful truth that I was never truly alone.
At the bottom of the box, my fingers brush against something delicate.
A necklace. I lift it out carefully, revealing a heart-shaped locket, its surface worn.
On the back, the words “my loves” are etched with a tenderness that cuts through the cold air.
I press it open, and inside, a faded photograph stares back at me: the three of us, frozen in time, with me as a tiny baby cradled between them.
I fasten the necklace around my neck, feeling its weight settle against my skin. A bittersweet reminder of my legacy.
Stepping onto the balcony, I let my gaze sweep over the sprawling Carlisi estate below, its grandeur stretching out like a kingdom waiting for its queen.
It will be mine. Caterina Carlisi, my mother, can officially be declared dead, snatched away before I ever had the chance to truly know her.
Luciano held the truth, had countless opportunities to tell me, but he never did.
Raising the whiskey bottle, I salute the night sky. “Forgive her, Dad. Love each other until I can join you,” I murmur. I collapse onto the bed, my life unravelling before my eyes.
“Red,” Mattia whispers as he and Izzy enter the room, climbing up beside me on the bed. He pulls the bottle away, placing it just out of reach. “Come here.” His arm wraps around me as Izzy settles into my other side. They both hold onto me as my cries fill the night's silence.
I look up at Matia. “Sing for me, please.”
“Always.” He picks up his guitar from beside the bed—I hadn’t even noticed that he brought it in with him—the familiar strings soothing as he strums my favorite Ellie Raynes song. I cuddle into Izzy as his voice wraps around us, a fragile shield against the darkness, until sleep finally takes me.