Chapter 11
Camillo Vicari
Jackson, Mississippi, USA
Eight years ago
There was something Valentina would never understand. In what she described as the mafia, as criminals, as bad people, friendships were honored even when one of the friends passed away.
Putting on my black hood, I prepared myself for the moment. The job could have been outsourced. I'm sure the famiglia's connections would have even offered the service. However, I was a keen believer that when you wanted something done right, it was best to do it yourself.
I got out of the car and had no trouble breaking into the house.
Valentina still believed that the love I once had for her incapacitated me, so much so that she hadn't even bothered to move house or change the lock code.
I lingered as I walked through the place, realizing that almost everything was still the same even after our divorce.
I savored the moment.
During the year I was in prison, she visited me constantly.
Telling me how much she loved me, how she never wanted to kill anyone, that all she had done was an attempt to get me out of the organization.
She even recalled how she protected me by leaving out parts of the evidence she gathered.
And insisted that I should reconsider our separation, that there was a future for us.
For one of us, without a doubt.
I stopped in front of the office where I uncovered the truth, entering through the open door.
She had turned it into a nursery. Another reason Valentina tried to use to dissuade me.
She found out she was expecting my child shortly after the sentence, and I must confess, my heart tightened and wavered, but I quickly came to my senses, because every time I looked in the mirror, I saw my mother's eyes and remembered her warnings and her love.
Entering the boy's room, I saw his little face for the first time.
She had tried to show me the baby, but I refused, rejecting him.
Although he was the fruit of my seed, he was no son of mine.
Being a father and being a progenitor are very different things, and I would never accept to father that child.
I didn’t want to.
I looked at him closely. He had my black hair and slept so peacefully that I knew that the moment I walked out of that nursery, not even the demons would forgive my soul.
I pointed the gun at his little head.
The shot burst through the silencer.
He didn't flinch.
His body lay in the crib, in an eternal, peaceful sleep, drenched in his own blood.
I would ask God for forgiveness, but I knew that at that moment He was no longer looking my way.
With cautious steps, I went to the room next door, the one that had been mine and hers.
Valentina was lying there, calmly wrapped in the sheets.
I had decided to grant the child a merciful end, quick and as painless as possible.
I would never force an innocent creature to face a life without a mother, nor with a father who could never love them, or look them in the eye without revulsion. The child deserved that mercy.
…But Valentina?
I approached the bed.
She continued deep in her sleep, uninterrupted.
A year in prison taught me much and gave me time to reflect.
During that period, with the help of Alessandro Lombardi, I got in touch with all the members of our società.
Mario and Lorenzo still had years ahead of them and neither was capable of taking over the famiglia.
But I... I had a deep hatred within me that grew with every injustice.
From Valentina's betrayal to the death of my famiglia and the sentence where the court decided to put me, my brother, and my cousin in different prisons.
So, it made sense to me to take the place that should have been Mario's and became the new Capobastone of the società.
As the new Capobastone of the famiglia Vicari, taking the place that should have passed from my grandfather to my father …
and then to my brother Mario, I told our men to investigate Valentina.
And to start with everything my mother had found out about her, sparing no effort in digging up every last piece of information.
The result was... interesting.
Apparently, my beautiful and passionate Valentina had begun investigating my famiglia a month after we made our relationship official, long before I ever told her anything about our businesses.
My sources discovered files stored on a well-encrypted server, where she had chronologically organized every piece of information gathered during each of her visits to our home.
Little things she had overheard, such as my father's latest trip, or the stores my mother frequented.
And we also found out why my mom's investigations had been fruitless.
Valentina used her student number, school email address, and the university's public internet to make all her records. Whenever she needed to associate names with an account, she signed only as Vale(ntina) (Mes)Sina. And she never used her own device, making all her records on library computers.
Then my sources discovered a locker in Rome registered under the name of her father, Cesare Messina.
Upon investigation, they found multiple external hard drives and folders filled with pictures and copies of documents taken directly from my father's and grandfather's offices.
I was certain she gathered them during the nights she spent at the villa with me.
To Valentina, I was a project. A fool who needed to be saved from his own famiglia. And those I loved most paid the price.
I brushed a strand of hair from her face with the tip of the silencer, watching her, still lost in her sleep, oblivious to what was about to happen.
My men bugged everything. Her phone, her computer, even her parents' house.
And I had to listen over and over again how she and her famiglia rejoiced at the death of my parents.
Especially my mother. The ‘good people’ were relieved that a woman who had always welcomed them into her home with kindness, no matter how much she hated them, was gone.
The ‘good people’ laughed as they said, ‘one less criminal in the world,’ and then added, ‘poor Camillo.’
I would have forgiven infidelities. I would have forgiven her if she used me just for money. I would have forgiven her for anything she did to me. But she always aimed for my parents.
Any doubts I had about making her pay, vanished as soon as Alessandro Lombardi showed me confidential documents from the federal investigation.
If on that damn day I hadn't caught her red-handed, the special forces would have taken us out.
The order was clear and top secret. They knew who we were and that we were armed.
The instruction was to kill the whole famiglia, except for me and Valentina, and claim we had caused the incident.
Valentina had set the perfect trap, and even though it didn't go as planned, she ended up succeeding.
With hatred boiling in my chest again, I raised my hand and struck her with the butt of my gun. Valentina woke up dazed, fumbling for the light to understand what was happening. As soon as the lamp came on, I saw a line of blood running down her forehead.
“Please, I have money... D-don't hurt me.”
I tilted my head, amused by her fear. "Where is the brave Assistant District Attorney who took down an ‘armed wing of the Italian criminal organization’?”
“Ca—Camillo...?” She choked, gasping, unable to compose herself. “I-I know you're angry, but please think of our son. Think of us. I only did what was right...” She pleaded, crawling across the bed toward me, her eyes fixed on the silencer of my gun.
“You killed my famiglia.”
“No, no! It was an accident. The plan was to arrest them and free you from their influence. Vita Mia, per favore...”
I lowered my gun, enjoying her sigh of relief, and took off my mask. The instant I held her chin between two fingers, she moaned softly, swallowing hard as my lips came within millimeters of hers.
“Alessandro Lombardi showed me the files. I know everything about the SWAT team that was waiting for us at the restaurant, Valentina... I know everything. Tutto.” Her eyes widened at the sound of my whisper, her body shaking violently.
“You could have had the perfect life, but it wasn't enough, was it?” She didn't answer me.
“You wanted to be the heroine of the story. The one who fights the villains in the name of justice.”
Tears fell from her dark eyes. “Camillo, for our son...”
“Oh, yes. Speaking of which.” Drawing a cry of pain from her lips, I plunged my hand into her curls and dragged her out of the room.
She stumbled, but despite her whimpers, didn't resist. When we entered the child's room, I threw her against the crib.
“Tell me, Vale, how does it feel when they take away what we love the most?” And I turned on the light.
I turned on the light so she could see the bullet I had put in the boy's head.
My son... I shook my head. NO. He wasn't mine.
“Mar—Marcello?” She sobbed, tears streaming from her eyes, her hands feeling the lifeless body of the baby.
“Oh, no...” Her cries filled the house. She fell onto the crib soaked in blood and howled in pain.
A pain I recognized perfectly, the same I had felt when she stole everything from me. “Monster... MONSTER!”
She lunged in my direction. The white satin of her nightgown stained with blood and her face contorted with hatred and pain. With a simple punch to the stomach, I bent her at my feet, and with a knee to the face, I left her stunned on the floor, blood gushing from her nose.
But I wasn't done yet. Oh, no. I would make sure she would suffer in the same way I did before taking her life.
I unlocked my phone and held it in front of her face, pressing play.
“My men paid a visit to your dear parents.”
Valentina sat up. Her features twisted, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she saw two gagged figures kneeling in an abandoned warehouse.
The video was dark, but it lit up as one of my men flicked a lighter and set the hostages ablaze.
Valentina's parents burned alive, howling in pain as the flames consumed the gasoline they had been doused with and, subsequently, their bodies.
There was something very interesting about human beings. The deeper the pain, the quieter their cries.
Valentina sobbed quietly, convulsing on the floor just as I had done. She was confronted with the consequences of her ambition and brought face to face with death.
With my foot, I turned her to face me, pressing the sole against her chest. She grabbed my leg, trying to scratch me through my pants without success.
“Now, Tesoro, you already know how I felt.”
“You're a monster, Camillo. A monster...” She cried, realizing that no matter how much she struggled, it would be in vain. “Our son was innocent. My parents were innocent.”
I pressed my foot against her chest, watching her fight for air.
“Innocence is a matter of perspective.” I growled, remembering my Mamusia, my Nonna, and my Zia.
As much as they fervently defended their husbands and children, they were women who would never deliberately harm anyone.
They knew how much life was worth and how much it cost to lose it.
Yet, they were described as criminals, their deaths celebrated.
“It's a pity you understand this too late, Tesoro.”
My boot came down again and again, the sickening crunch of bone echoing in the silent room.
Fell enough times on Valentina's chest to break her bones and crush her organs.
I stomped on her with all the hatred I had inside me, with the images of my parents' lifeless bodies burning in my mind.
When I stopped, I was out of breath and she was lifeless, her eyes and mouth wide open, staring at some point on the ceiling.
I lit a cigarette and watched her, enveloped in the deathly silence that filled the house. There was an undeniable twisted irony in all of it. I had become exactly what she had tried to prevent.
A monster.