23. Killian
The mansion was never my home. It was where Franco tortured me, turned me into a murderer, and made me hate everyone until Maricela arrived.
At that moment, color filled the mansion, covering all the lifeless beige I grew up with. Her audacity and her spirit of life caused me to lose control.
After she left, I saw nothing in this place but a graveyard for people with a beating pulse.
So, I left here as well. I wanted to take Isabella with me, but she refused, especially when Franco revealed he was terminally ill.
Two years of treatments, of spying on the man who was her husband for her son, two whole years in which I did not give my mother the treatment she deserved.
I’ve visited her several times since Santino did what he did, but when she found out Maricela was back, she asked me to look after her. Isabella was glad Maricela was back and promised she wouldn’t worry but would be happy to see her when she felt comfortable.
Maddox didn’t grow up next to Santino and me in this house, but he visited here as punishment several times.
I remember how Franco told Maddox that he would never have a place in his mansion.
The second I got the position as a capo, I gave my older brother all he could have wanted, even a letter of his family name on my law firm. F.K.B.L. was Liam’s idea, and it infuriated Franco to no end. That was the sweetest revenge. Or the beginning of it, at least.
For Maricela’s plan to work, he must get my wrath first.
I open the gate with my remote, not waiting for the dozens of guards to come to check who entered.
Despite the shadow of death hovering over Franco’s head, he’s still surrounded by guards and whores.
“He won’t like that we came without warning,” Maddox says nonchalantly.
“And since when do we care?” We enter the mansion and ignore everyone who comes toward us.
“Lord Killian, Lord Maddox,” one of the maids, whose name I didn’t bother to remember, approaches us. The only employees who matter are with me now.
“Where’s Franco and Isabella? I don’t have time for your manners,” I bark in her direction.
“Madame Isabella is in her room, and Mr. Franco is not feeling well. He’s sleeping.”
I don’t say anything more to her and go to Franco’s new room. I haven’t been there before now, but from the reports I’ve received, the room looks like a luxury hospital room. With all the equipment he needs in order not to stop breathing, that’s not surprising.
“Mr. Franco asked not to be disturbed,” the maid shouts as we head upstairs. We don’t pay her any mind and continue on our way.
“What’s all that noise, Nurse—” Isabella steps out of her room as beautiful as ever. Her bodyguard, Dario, is by her side.
“Killian. Maddox. How nice of you to come.”
“Hi, Mom,” Maddox says, kissing her forehead like he did as a kid.
My mother took him in as much as she could. That’s Isabella Fierro for you.
Dario, her shadow, steps out behind her, saying nothing. I ignore him, kissing her cheek and allowing her to hug me.
For Isabella, I became much more than a son many years ago. I became her protector. I know she regrets how she acted for the most part, but I don’t blame her.
“We came to see Franco,” I say.
“What did he do this time? He hasn’t wanted to see me for several weeks. Ever since Santino...” Her voice breaks a little.
“He blames me for not raising my boys right.”
“Gaslighting is what he does, Mom.” She nods, smiling at Maddox.
“Well, I’ll let you deal with him.”
She kisses Maddox and me again and leaves us with Dario at her heels.
“Do you think she doesn’t mourn Santino like Maricela?” Maddox asks, and I shake my head.
“Mom’s mourned him. You know that. Do you remember how she begged Santino to stop beating you?”
Maddox puts on his psychotic grin and continues toward the door as if this reminds him to direct his anger to whom it truly belongs.
He kicks Franco’s door wide open to find one of his hookers sucking his cock while he suffocates. I could have happily died without ever seeing that.
Maddox strides straight to the side of the bed as she isn’t even there and spits on the floor.
“I heard you’re dying. Too bad your dick still works. It must be the blue balls. Daddy Dearest couldn’t even find himself a pretty whore?”
“Cazzo, Cosa stai facendo qui? i figli diputana.”
Franco speaks in Italian only when he’s either nervous or mad. I won this round and in life against him.
“You,” I yell, indicating the whore, “disappear from my sight! This is an order from your capo.”
The girl runs from the room, and between heaving gasps for breath, Franco says, “Enjoying the role I gave you, Son?”
“You gave me the job. It’s not like you could leave your empire to your crazy son. Your now dead son.”
I approach his bed, and his heart rate monitor spikes, the beeps changing accordingly. Only the devil knows how Franco endured a blow job.
“I wonder what would happen if I pressed on your chest,” I say casually and press my fist into his lungs.
“Did you finally come to kill me?” he asks after he finishes coughing his lungs out. It could have been a spectacular sight.
“Maddox, perhaps I should let you kill him.”
I lift Maddox’s shirt and remind Franco why we have a right to hurt him.
“Then again, perhaps we should do it together. Or maybe we’ll call Isabella. She’d be happy to take your cock off,” I add.
Madd spits on him.
“I think that’s a great idea. A woman taking him out of this world.” Another hacking cough, another gasp for breath.
“It’s amazing how a man like you turned his three sons into helpless monsters out of fear, not stopping until they became exactly what he expected them to be.”
More wheezing and then, “What do you want?”
Franco tries unsuccessfully to get Maddox’s saliva out of his mouth. The son of a bitch can’t even sit up.
“Why are you working with the Albanians, Dear Father?” I ask, and don’t stop Maddox from hurting him.
“You ignored me.”
I roll my eyes deliberately, just as my little girl does when she tries to anger me.
“So what? Because I didn’t want to buy prostitutes from Ukraine, you decide to do what? Sell me out to our enemies?”
“You—” Cough. “You—” Another cough. “Will do as I say.”
“Listen, Franco Boy,” I say, spitting every syllable in his face, “if I decide to kill you, I promise you it will take you months to die. You will suffer. It will be you who begs for me to take your heart out. You leave my business and my people to me. Let me rule the empire you gave me.”
I turn on my heels and head for the door, not giving him the opportunity to even try to reply. “Come on, Madd. He’s just a poor man grasping at straws.”
“You think you’re so big,” Franco says just before I reach the doorway. He sounds almost like the man I used to know. “I already took the most important thing you had.”
I refuse to listen to him and give him the power. Because he’s right, he took many essential things from me. No matter what he defines as the most important thing.
Just as Maddox and I reach the top of the stairs, Isabella approaches. “What did he do this time?”
“Nothing I can’t take care of. Mom, you’ll move in with me and the kids.”
“I don’t want to disturb you. The kids are there. Maricela, too.”
“And you love them all. I refuse to leave you with him anymore. You suffered too much imprisoned by him, and he’s lost it. I have to put a guard on him of my own.”
“Why don’t you just kill him?”
“He doesn’t deserve to die an easy death. He won’t survive abuse.” We both know it’s true.
She hesitates but says, “Okay, but Dario is coming with me. I feel safe with him.”
“He’s an employee of Franco.”
“I would never be loyal to Franco.” The man, slightly older than me, turns to me as if we know each other.
“Explain yourself quickly. Are you telling me you weren’t loyal to your capo? If so, how can I be sure you’ll be loyal to me?”
“You can’t be sure of that because I won’t be loyal to you either. I’m loyal only to the queen of this entire empire, Isabella.”
The vibration of my phone prevents me from answering my mother’s bodyguard the way I want to: with my fist to his stomach. “Fierro speaking.”
“Mr. Fierro, this is Connie’s kindergarten teacher. We’ve had an incident in class, and I need you and Miss Maricela to come to the school as soon as possible.”