Chapter Forty-seven Daniel
Chapter Forty-seven
Daniel
When I woke up this morning, I already had a weird feeling. Maybe it was because of my nightmare, or because I knew I was going to have to talk to my father today, I don’t know.
But ever since I’ve been sitting in my office with him, the silence has been suffocating. The weight of last night’s memories presses down on me, and I can’t shake it.
I’m not really in the mood to plan my mom’s funeral. But then again, when would you ever be?
"Do we have a date set yet?" I ask, breaking the quiet.
My father nods and pushes a small pile of files toward me. "Scheduled one already. Look at this."
I hate looking at these papers. My mother’s name. The date of her death. The date of her funeral.
Planning my mother’s funeral with my father shouldn’t be enjoyable, of course. But there’s something deeply wrong about the way we’re doing this.
Just two men who never learned how to talk about their feelings, trapped in silence, flipping through files like it’s just another task to get done.
Maybe when I was younger, we talked. Maybe back then, my father knew how to comfort me. But I don’t remember.
What I do remember is how my mother talked to me when I felt bad. A faint memory flickers—a conversation with her the night my dad forced me to kill someone for the first time—but I force it away. I can’t think about that now.
I turn another page. "So… do we have a guest list?"
He nods again and gestures toward the pile I’m already holding.
The longer I sit here, the more it drives me insane. We’re barely speaking. Just existing in this cold, detached silence, checking off boxes for a woman we both loved but can’t even talk about.
I finally find the list. It’s… short.
My father. My siblings. Jennifer. Hayden. A few guys from our business—including Julian.
I knew he’d be there. Julian was like a third son to my mother. And I can’t blame him for wanting to say goodbye. My parents always treated him like family, even if I never saw him that way.
I still don’t like him. We’re still rivals, in some way. But we understand each other. At least, I think we do.
"Will the kids come, too?" I ask.
My father looks at me blankly. "Kids?"
I hesitate. "Enzo and Mary."
For a second, he just stares at me, like he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about. Then he nods slowly. "Ah, right. Yes. You should add them."
Jesus.
I’ve seen my father in love. I’ve seen him proud. I’ve seen him kill more men than I can count.
But today?
Today, he’s broken. Sleep-deprived, hollow, like a man who’s already half-dead. And he forgot about his own grandchild.
I shake it off and add the kids to the list. It wouldn’t have mattered if they weren’t on the list—they would’ve come with us anyway.
They might not fully understand funerals, but leaving them behind? Unprotected? In this house, in this situation? No chance. Jennifer and Vicky wouldn’t allow it, and neither would I.
"Ah, and Daniel?" My father slides a piece of paper toward me. "Call these numbers. Your mother’s siblings might want to come. And maybe Lorenzo too. I doubt he even knows she’s gone yet."
I freeze.
"Lorenzo?"
He scoffs. "Yes. Your uncle. You forgot about him?"
If I’m being honest? Sort of.
I barely remember him at all. He didn’t exist to me for most of my life.
"Why would he come?" I ask carefully. "I don’t mean to be rude, but… haven’t you two hated each other for years?"
My father just shrugs. "Sure, we hate each other. But we’re brothers. And this is not about us. He loved your mother. They were best friends for years. Just call him, will you?"
I push back my chair and stand up so fast my father actually looks at me with an emotion other than grief—just a flicker of something else, maybe suspicion, maybe exhaustion, before he looks away again.
Everything suddenly clicks.
My father and Lorenzo have hated each other since before I was born. Why?
My uncle has been bitter for years, pissed that my father got to be boss instead of him. And now that I’m the boss?
Of course he wants to fuck me over.
My mind spins. My mother—the most loved woman in this family—was killed.
And the man I tortured before he died?
“I—I don’t know the name, I swear! It was something—Lo? Lore? Loran? Man, I don’t know! I swear it!”
I thought he was lying.
But he wasn’t. He was telling the fucking truth.
I was so fucking stupid. How did I not see it sooner?
I turn toward the door. "I have something to take care of. I’ll call him later."
My father sighs and returns to his paperwork. He doesn’t even question me. He’s too deep in his own grief.
Good.
Because I don’t want him to stop me.
By the time I make it to my car, my hands are shaking. God, I have to focus.
I call Hayden immediately. "Track down Lorenzo’s location. My uncle. I got his phone number."
He sounds confused, but he doesn’t question it.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Julian and Hayden send me the address I needed to know.
They work fast and efficiently. That’s why I trust them the most with this job.
I start the engine, gripping the handlebars of my Harley. The familiar roar grounds me.
I was wrong before.
That man I tortured… he actually did know something. He tried to tell me. And I didn’t listen.
But it doesn’t matter anymore. Because now? I know exactly who’s behind this.
Lorenzo. My fucking uncle. And I’m going to kill him. I’m going to murder this worthless bastard with my own hands.
I won’t be reckless. I’m not going alone. My men are coming with me—they’ll stay hidden at first, but if things go south, they’ll be there.
I haven’t seen Lorenzo since I was a kid. I don’t remember his face. I don’t know how he thinks, what he does.
But that doesn’t matter. It ends tonight.
Even if he tries to kill me first. Even if I die in the process.
I will make sure he does not walk away from this alive. That’s what you get for killing my mother, you bastard.