Chapter 39 #2
Forced to step into a world they weren't ready for.
That was why he made the boys shadow him. Why he taught them the business. Why he wanted them to understand the responsibilities that came with their name.
Because unlike him...he refused to let them walk into that world blind.
My attention snapped back to Adriano as he continued pacing in front of the council. The room was silent, not the peaceful kind, but the kind that meant everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next words to leave his mouth.
"I was not ready." Adriano's voice remained steady, but there was something underneath it. Something raw. "Yet you spoke, and I listened."
He stopped walking, his gaze steady as it moved across the council members one by one. “I gave up everything,” he said, his voice firm. “My childhood. My dreams. My ambitions. My innocence.”
The room seemed to grow colder as Adriano continued speaking, his voice cutting through the silence with quiet precision.
“All to serve at your feet.” A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he let the words hang in the air, heavy with meaning.
“I was your puppet. Your obedient soldier. Your lackey.” He paused, allowing the weight of each title to settle over the council like a judgment.
Then, after a brief silence, he added, “And I accepted it.”
His shoulders squared slightly. "I grabbed the reins, and I adapted. I did what I was told because that was what was expected of me."
Adriano started walking again, his footsteps echoing against the floor. "I faced the embarrassment from the families. The humiliation from my peers. The whispers behind my back." His jaw tightened. "Because the moment I stepped into that role, my father abandoned me."
A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "He was angry. Angry at you. Angry at me. Angry at the world." His voice lowered. "So he disappeared." A pause. "Leaving me alone."
For a moment, the feared Capo di Capi wasn't standing before us. It was that thirteen-year-old boy again, the one who had no choice but to grow up. Adriano took a slow breath and glanced over at me, and I gave him the smallest nod, a reminder that he wasn’t alone.
His lips lifted slightly before he turned back toward the council. “But I found my way.” The confidence returned to his voice as he continued, “I became the most successful Mafia Boss this organization had ever seen.” His eyes hardened. “Then you named me Capo di Capi.”
He gestured slightly toward the council. “And I continued.” His voice became sharper. “More responsibility. More orders. More expectations. More obedience.”
He stopped in the center of the room and, after a brief pause, said, “And I kept going.” The silence was then broken by Isotta as she spoke up, her tone cold and dismissive, asking, “Is this hearing simply for you to complain about your past, Adriano?”
Her hands remained folded neatly in front of her as she stared him down. The old woman had never been intimidated easily. But she had never understood Adriano either.
A small smirk crossed his face. "No." His eyes locked onto hers. "I'm just getting to the good part, Isotta." A few seconds passed before she sighed, clearly annoyed, and waved her hand toward him. "Continue." And Adriano did.
Adriano's footsteps echoed through the room as he continued. "The one time I made a decision for myself..." His voice lowered slightly. "The one time I chose something because it was what I wanted."
He stopped walking. “The one time I obtained something that belonged only to me...” His eyes moved toward the council. “You had a problem.” The room remained silent. “You questioned my choice. You searched for every possible flaw. Every reason why it wasn't acceptable.” His jaw tightened.
"You criticized my marriage. You criticized my wife. You criticized my family," his eyes shifted briefly toward me, "and then you turned your judgment toward my brother for his choice as well." I felt every eye in the room shift toward me.
Adriano's voice grew stronger. "You have no right to condemn my family or the decisions we make." He took a step forward. "You do not own my family." He took another step. "You do not own me."
His eyes hardened. "You own the Mafia." The words hit the room like a weapon. "And yet you sit here judging us as if you haven't made the exact same choices."
He glanced around the table, and a dangerous calm settled over his face as he said, "Because let's be clear... I am not the first person in this room to marry someone Russian."
The council members shifted slightly as Adriano continued speaking, his voice steady and unyielding. “I am not the first person in this room to have children with someone who isn’t fully Italian,” he said, his gaze slowly landing on Aldo. “And I certainly won’t be the last.”
"Complain all you want, Adriano," Isotta interrupted, her patience clearly wearing thin. "But this is a serious court hearing. Do not start creating stories to fit your argument." She waved her hand dismissively.
For the first time, Adriano looked genuinely confused, not angry, not offended, just confused. His eyes slowly moved toward Aldo, and suddenly everything clicked. “You haven't told them?” The accusation was quiet.
But somehow, it carried more weight than shouting ever could. Adriano turned and walked toward Aldo. The change in Aldo was immediate. The confident, arrogant man who had been sitting across the room moments ago disappeared.
His posture stiffened, his jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with hatred. For the first time, Aldo looked nervous. Adriano stopped in front of him. "Well then..." he said calmly. "I suppose it is my duty to enlighten them, Aldo."
He turned away from him and looked directly at me. “Matteo.” I straightened in my chair. “Please read what’s inside the envelope.”
I took a slow breath before reaching for the manila folder sitting beside me as the entire room watched in tense silence.
I opened it and pulled out the document inside, feeling the weight of every gaze in the chamber.
“Please tell the council what it is,” Adriano said, his voice steady and controlled.
I looked down at the paper in my hands and exhaled once before answering, “It’s a blood sample. ”
A pause followed as the weight of his words settled over the room. “Aldo’s blood sample,” he said, and immediately a ripple of whispers moved through the room.
Adriano didn't react. He already knew exactly what was coming. "What does it say, Matteo?" I looked back down at the results, my eyes scanning the page once more before I finally spoke.
“It says…” I swallowed. “That Aldo is 75% Italian…” The room was completely silent. “And 25% Russian.”