Chapter 12
Liliana
Beneath the cloak of night, Frankie drove me back to my compound. Greta”s disbelief was understandable when he phoned her to convey the news of my survival from the massacre. The sound of her voice brought a sense of peace that has eluded me for a long while, and a genuine smile graced my face, one that reached my eyes at last. A surge of joy filled my chest, anticipating the upcoming reunion with her. It had taken us three weeks to set this plan in motion, and now, the initial phase was completed - it was time for me to return.
The memories of my family”s demise weigh heavily on me, a burden that feels never-ending, dragging me down. I long to be set free from this overwhelming grief. The haunting images of them lying lifeless, drenched in blood, torment my soul. The only path to release this oppressive weight is through the blood of those responsible for their deaths. As I gaze at the night sky, I seek comfort from the heavens, letting me know that all will be well. Yet, it never comes. Instead, all I sense is a surge of pure, unfiltered rage, urging me to bring vengeance upon those who destroyed my family, to set the world ablaze in their honor.
For this plan to work, Carlo needed to remain convinced that his strategy was unfolding flawlessly. This unfortunately required Frankie to resume his cleaning duties for him. When Beneventi questioned his whereabouts, he explained that he needed time to process the events following the Rinaldis” tragedy. How getting rid of the bodies of children fucked with his head and he needed to decompress. Carlo, displeased with this reasoning, ordered his son Salvatore to eliminate him. However, with mounting pressure on the Beneventis, Tomas persuaded Carlo that such action was ill-advised so soon after the incident involving my family. In a display of unwavering loyalty, Frankie declined any payments for the next six months as a token of his allegiance.
During his trips back to the city, Frankie discovered that the other families were on high alert, anxious that their own families might suffer a similar fate as mine. Carlo conducted meetings, gradually persuading them to grant him control over the Northwest territory. His actions went unquestioned, fueling my anger to its boiling point. My father”s contributions to the Chicago mafia were groundbreaking. Following the honorable practices of my grandfather during his leadership, my father successfully kept us off the FBI”s radar and maintained covert operations with Russia. In contrast, Carlo”s actions attracted undue attention and led to investigations whenever he defied my father”s directives. He has created chaos, and when confronted, he resorts to issuing death threats. It was upon learning this that I decided to return earlier than planned.
The quiet street that stretches behind the compound is deserted. The barren trash bins signal the absence of life in this place. Every minute that passes forces me to lift myself out of the sorrow of losing my family. Arriving here proves to be more challenging than expected as I input the code to open the gate, hoping it remains unchanged. Frankie offers me a reassuring fist bump before driving off, and the familiar click as the gate unlocks provides me access. A sigh of relief escapes as I step through the gate and shut it behind me. Using the flashlight feature on the burner phone provided by Frankie, I trudge up the slight incline, each step weighing heavier than the last. Upon reaching the pool area, a wave of sadness washes over me as the motion lights illuminate the space. There are no apparent traces of my family”s brutal demise, with the grass clearly replaced with new sod and the pool shimmering under the bright moon.
This spot marks the last time I saw my family together. Luca and Alexandria goofing around, taking selfies with silly expressions. The typical behavior of teenagers enjoying life and bonding with their loved ones. My grandfather leisurely puffing on a cigar, engaged in conversations with old friends he hadn”t seen in years, my mother beaming as my grandmother admires my engagement ring. Everyone exuded happiness that day, commemorating my birthday. But Nico was missing. The unknown reason for his absence has plagued me during my recovery. Could it be mere coincidence that he had a meeting the same day my family met their tragic fate? When Frankie informed me that Nico was nowhere to be found, I couldn”t decipher if it were due to guilt or anguish over my alleged demise. Presently, Frankie is the sole person I trust, and until proven otherwise, Nico will meet the same fate as his family.
I reach into my backpack, retrieving my utility knife and lifting the concealed panel in the cobblestone near the French doors. As I zero in on the correct wire for the alarm system, I cut it just in case the house alarm had been altered. The gate”s security was left unchanged, but Frankie mentioned seeing a ”For Sale” sign attached to the front gate during his recent drive by mission for me. The night he returned to the safe house to deliver this news is etched vividly in my memory. The moment he entered the kitchen, the expression on his face foreshadowed bad news.
“There”s something you need to know,” Frankie asserts, settling across from me at the table. These are not the words one wants to hear after surviving an unimaginable ordeal. Setting my sandwich aside, I focus intently on him.
“Okay, go ahead,” I respond, a sense of dread creeping up within me.
After a pause, he inhales deeply and discloses, “When I passed by your compound tonight, I saw a ‘For Sale’ sign displayed on the front gate.”
The dinner I had prepared is forgotten as I process Frankie”s revelation. I slump back in my chair, suppressing the tears threatening to spill. The bank is auctioning off my home, my sanctuary, and I am powerless to prevent it unless I resurface. With my maternal grandparents passing away in a tragic accident before my birth and my mother being an only child, the responsibility falls solely on me.
That evening, I made the decision to return home to the place where my father shaped me into Liliana Gabriele Rinaldi, a mafia queen and overseer of the Northwest domain in Chicago. The Beneventi family will regret the day they awakened the dormant side of me, kept concealed until a time like this.
I now find myself standing at the threshold, hesitating to step into this vacant space brimming with memories of my past life. An overwhelming wave of anxiety grips me, rendering me immobile and causing me to question if it were wise to return so soon. My hands linger on the door handles, motionless as I peer through the glass into the expansive dining room. The subdued lighting casts eerie shadows over the furniture swathed in white linen, unsettling me. While driven by a vengeful rage, a creeping sense of guilt for surviving infiltrates my thoughts, tempting me to vanish and be content with being alive.
Turning away from the doors, my gaze drifts out toward the yard, fixating on the precise spot where Alexandria drew her final breath. Her once vibrant eyes now vacant and lifeless, hauntingly staring back at me. The long, ebony locks that I will never tenderly comb before bedtime, and the cherished movie nights filled with rom-coms and buttery popcorn—all fading memories extinguished in a cruel act of avarice, along with the future moments I will never share with my baby brother who was so full of life.
My veins pulsate with a surge of anger as memories of my family flit through my mind at lightning speed, reinforcing my resolve. It is my survival that necessitates holding Carlo accountable for his actions. Tightening my grip on the handles, I push open the door and make my way to my father”s office. Seated behind the massive desk, I pause to collect my thoughts, deliberating on whether to initiate the first phase of my plan that very night. Acting on impulse would be ill-advised and likely not the wisest course of action. One of the key principles my father instilled in me is to never let rage dictate your actions, as acting in fury often leads to critical mistakes. The boundary between anger and passion becomes blurred, hindering your effectiveness. Unless engaged in a process of extracting information through torture, swift and calculated strikes are the most efficient approach.
Sliding my hand beneath the desk, I search the underside until I locate the hidden button that triggers the wall to slide open to my left. Illuminating the space with the flip of a switch, I step into the concealed room, stocked with an array of weaponry known solely to me. While Antonio has faithfully served by my father”s side for years, there has always been a lingering sense of mistrust. Despite not providing any reason to doubt him, Paolo Rinaldi understood that in the unforgiving realm of the mafia, even the closest of friends could readily turn into the gravest of foes for the right price. As I retrieve a compact 9mm pistol along with a silencer and extra ammunition, placing them on the table, I look over the display of guns to see what else I may need. My go-to weapon remains a hunting knife. However, having a firearm at hand is essential for situations demanding long-range precision. Given that Carlo”s henchmen are trained killers, catching them off guard will be crucial. Crossing over to the opposite side of the table, I grab my Kevlar vest before exiting the room.
Greta will be here tomorrow evening and I gave her strict instructions to not let anyone know that I’m alive. Through tears, I told her how I survived and what happened that fateful day. After her sister became deathly ill, I insisted Greta fly home to be by her side. We had plenty of help with the party and I felt it was more important to be with family in case her sister succumbed to her illness. Unfortunately, Greta’s sister passed away peacefully shortly after she arrived surrounded by family.
Strolling through the house, I note that nothing has been disturbed or altered. The once-flourishing large vase, usually brimming with fresh blooms, now stands empty on the central round table in the foyer, accompanied by a piece of paper. In bold black lettering, a notice announces an upcoming auction with a specified date and time. It serves as a stark reminder that life no longer thrives within these walls. The possessions amassed by my parents will soon be placed in the hands of strangers who have no sentimental ties to the memories held within every corner of our home.
Tomorrow, my primary task will be contacting the bank to halt the sale, at least temporarily, until I carry out my plans. Ascending the stairs, I head to my room, enter my closet, and retrieve my purse. Fortunately, my wallet is still inside, along with my identification right where I placed it. I gaze at the photo, recognizing the toll this whole experience has had on me. The flawless makeup, the thick, cascading waves framing my face - a stark difference from the person I am today.
Glancing at my phone, weariness suddenly overwhelms me. It’s late and I need to get some rest to ensure I’m alert tomorrow night. Tomas, the most vulnerable target, won’t know that I’m coming. Frankie diligently monitored his residence and learned his routine with precision. He never married and has no children, which makes him the easiest to eliminate. The transformation within me has been gradual over the past month. This is not the plan I had for my life, yet here I am, embracing my newfound reality as Liliana Rinaldi—deceptively sweet, yet dangerously lethal. The new title appropriately captures my persona as I meticulously devised a flawless strategy to eradicate every member of the Beneventi clan. Sliding back the covers, I discard my clothing, slip into a nightshirt, and climb into bed.