Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Criminals.
The worst kind.
The ones you read about in history books.
Some are on their knees praying, while some are gripping rosary beads… but they’re all crying.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I murmur.
Beeeeep.
I turn in a rush to see the heart rate monitor alarm going off. Nurses rush in from every direction.
I press my hands to my head as I begin to panic. Loud sobs come from behind me, some of the men openly crying now.
What the fuck is going on here?
The doctors and nurses work on my grandfather.
People are running around and calling out different instructions.
Clear…
Clear…
Clear…
The room is a clusterfuck of panic.
They pump his chest to try and restart his heart.
I feel a strange detachment, as if I’m watching this from way up above.
No, this day cannot be happening. All of this… it can’t be happening.
The line on the monitor goes flat, and I hold my breath.
“No, no, no,” I begin to chant. “Don’t go, don’t go.”
The doctors and nurses work on him and work on him, until finally, they stop.
The commotion dies down and the room falls still. An eerie silence fills the space.
It’s as if I can feel his energy leaving the room.
He’s gone.
After a moment, the nurse closes his eyes with her hand, and the doctor turns to me. “I’m so sorry, sir. We did everything we could. His injuries were too severe.”
I stare at her, numb.
“We will leave you alone to say your goodbyes.”
The medical team turn and leave, and I’m left with a waiting room full of strangers.
I kiss my grandfather on both cheeks through my tears.
“Look after one another,” I whisper.
I brush his hair back from his forehead as I stare at his beaten face. My tortured eyes rise to meet Lorenzo’s who is now on his knees crying, and I nod.
Granting him silent access to say his goodbyes.
I stand at the back of the room and watch on as one by one the men come and kiss my grandfather goodbye. Each one whispers words of love and respect to him as they openly weep. My mind goes to my grandfather—the loyal, wonderful man I know…
Knew.
Who was Stefano Ferrara?
Where the hell does my family’s money come from? If it’s old money, how far back does it go?
My stomach rolls at the thought. This is a mistake. A terrible mistake.
The walls start to close in. This is too much. I have to get out of here.
I have to get the fuck out of here. I turn to leave, and Lorenzo drops to his knees at my feet. He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it.
I frown as I stare down at him, and then I look up at the men as they all collectively drop to one knee and bow their heads.
“Il capo,” Lorenzo says.
“Don,” the men all repeat.
Horror dawns.
Don means leader.
I’m the oldest son. With my father gone, I’m next in line.
But next in line to what?
5
Enrico
I sit in the foyer of the hospital and stare at a spot on the carpet. The carpet is new—recently laid. Why has it been replaced? Did someone tear it up in a grief-fueled rage?
I wouldn’t blame them if they did.
I’m waiting for my family—my mother, grandmother and Francesca—to arrive.
It should be any moment now. It’ a six-hour car trip. If I’d have known how this was going to turn out I would have suggested they fly.
In hindsight, it’s for the best. I wouldn’t have wanted them to see what I have today.
Even as a policeman, where death is all around, nothing could have prepared me for this. Nobody should have to see their loved ones on their deathbeds. It’s a cruel reality that’s better off left alone.
I glance at my watch for the tenth time this hour. I didn’t want to tell them over the phone that our whole world just came crashing down.
How could I?
So, I’ll wait here, to tell them in person.
I look around the lounge area, to the few men who have stayed behind to wait for my mother, and I wonder what their role is.
Did mother know?
Did she know what her husband and father-in-law were capable of?
My stomach twists. What were they capable of?
It doesn’t make sense, any of this. Criminal families bring their children up in the midst of it. They teach their children the ropes—prepare them for the life they will lead.
I didn’t know.
I think back to when my father pushed me into the police force. His words come back to me.
You need this life experience, Enrico, trust me. One day, you will need it.
Did he know? Of course, he knew.
I think of the money, the real estate, the lifestyle, and the special treatment everywhere my family go, and I clench my jaw. How the fuck did I not see this? Why didn’t it ever occur to me that this was my family’s history?