Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
It was over.
He laid back on the cold, hard bed in his cell and stared at the blank ceiling for hours.
His grandmother was not La Strega for nothing. She always had a plan—-and the fact that she had visited him without one spoke volumes. There was a very good chance that he would indeed be charged for Pilar's murder, and that would mean serving years on the minimum. Maybe even a decade at the very least. He would be stuck here indefinitely and that was why this was the only decent and logical decision for him to make.
He had to cut all ties with Penelope...and forget she ever existed.
TO BE JAILED WAS LIKE a rite of passage for every member of famiglia. It made one tough and smart, made one know better to take certain things for granted, once released. But to be jailed outside one's territory?
It was to be avoided at all cost for one reason alone, and that "reason" began on Cesare's first full day behind bars.
Men who were either paid or wanting to be paid with Sorrento money attacked Cesare the first chance they got, and the guards, who were also on Sorrento payroll, waited until he was properly welcomed with a stab wound to his side, before taking Cesare to the clinic.
He was moved to maximum security for the night, and waiting for him in his new cell was a letter from her.
I know you must have a reason for not wanting me to see you. No one wants to tell me anything either, and that's fine, too. It could be the famiglia way, for all I know.
If I truly can't see you, then so be it.
But please just let me know you're okay. Please tell me you know that I trust you above all else. If you tell me you didn't kill my grandmother, I'll believe you. If you tell me you have a reason for killing her, I'll believe you.
I grieve for her because she's my flesh and blood, but it's you I miss, you I dream of, you I need to see. Please, Cesare. Please let me see you.
His family also wrote to him, and the news they shared came as no surprise as well. The Sorrentos had employed a mixture of legal and not-so-legal measures to bar the Marchettis from visiting Cesare, and until their own lawyers were able to put into effect a countermeasure of their own—-there were always hands to be greased that could smuggle in whatever Cesare needed.
His family sent their love to him, and while Cesare believed their words were not a lie—-he could not and would not let himself believe her.
And so he wrote back to Massimo, and asked his brother to inform Penelope that her letters would no longer be delivered.
ANOTHER DAY BEGAN, and it ended with someone managing to sneak up on Cesare from behind and grab his fucking hair so he could slam Cesare's head against the wall.
He suffered a concussion, and members of the press that had been tipped off by the Marchettis were already waiting for Cesare as soon as he was wheeled out of the ambulance and sent straight to a local hospital's lab for brain scans.
His face was all over the news by six in the evening, and it was his famiglia's turn to cash in favors. Massive public protests in Boston were heavily covered by the press, and with influential politicians lobbying for his release, Cesare's case was ultimately ruled as a medical emergency, and thus recommended for indefinite private confinement.
Come midnight, he was alone in his own suite, a contingency of local FBI agents stationed outside his door for his protection, and with Cesare now having unrestricted access to his phone and laptop, it was then he received a text from an unregistered number.
I saw you in the news, and it killed me to see you...like that. I still don't understand why I can't be with you, but please. Please just talk to me. Please let me help you. Please.
Cesare deleted her message and blocked her fucking number from ever contacting him again.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was no use, and he ended up remembering what he didn't want to remember: his mother behind bars, having admitted to a crime she didn't commit, and all in the name of love.
Cesare remembered her crying every time he came to visit, and she would realize that his father hadn't come with him.
He remembered crying himself back at home, but doing his best not to make any noise while he listened to his father rage at his mother on the phone.
'How many times do I have to fucking tell you? We're over, goddammit. It's never going to work between us, so stop fucking using our son to get to me. I didn't ask you to love me, and I didn't fucking ask you to throw your life for me either. You did that all to yourself, and you can't fucking guilt-trip me into wasting mine. It's over between us, Claudia. So fucking deal with it.'