“Wow!” Galen exclaimed, his eyes wide, covering his mouth with one hand. “Is it true, Uncle?” He turned to Martino.
“Yes, very true,” the red-haired man confirmed, shaking his head at the memories. “I was a real pain in the butt more often than not, and I wonder how poor Brian still has any patience left. I thought he used it all up with this troublemaker,” he said, pointing to himself.
“You weren’t so bad,” the Wisdom Keeper smiled paternally. “I didn’t think that way back then, but it’s all in the past now.” He turned to Galen. “That said, what do you think—would you like to be one of my disciples?”
“If you ever need help understanding the laws of war, I’m here,” Baldassare said with a grin. “I’m the absolute expert on them; you can ask anyone,” he added, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle on his shirt.
“Thank you, Uncle,” Galen nodded slightly, then turned to the Wisdom Keeper. “Is that true?”
“Yes,” the librarian confirmed, a paternal smile playing on his lips. “I often fall asleep with my head on the book. In my defense, I’m a man of peace, and war or conflict doesn’tmake sense to me.” He locked eyes with the teen. “Back to my question, what do you think about me being your mentor in all things Mafia?”
Enthusiasm and excitement made Galen’s dark-brown eyes, so much like his father’s, shine brightly. “I’d really love that, Wisdom Keeper.”
“You may call me Uncle Brian.” The words came in a soft, warm voice.
“Yes, Uncle Brian.”
CHAPTER 17
Damn you. Umberto slammed his fist against the desk, the sound drawing his assistant into his office without knocking, worry etched into her features. He assured her, as politely as he could, that everything was fine. With a small nod, she retreated discreetly, closing the door behind her.
May you burn in hell for eternity, Umberto continued in his angry internal monologue. The personal assistant interrupted by barging into the room. You, that pathetic excuse for a human being, your father, my poor father’s tyrannical father, and everyone else who, one way or another, robbed me of what was rightfully mine.
You should have been dead by now, should have died a thousand times, but no. Like the devil’s seed you are, you found a way to evade Death’s merciless claw, even as it gripped you tightly, crushing your bones, turning them into jelly. Somehow, you found your way back from the gates of hell.
Umberto buried his face in both hands, a mix of anger, frustration, and helplessness boiling inside him. Ottavio Sforza, the obstacle he had been trying to remove for the past ten years, laughed in his face again. The defiant devil adopted his bastard son and named him after the dynasty’s founder.
It was something Umberto’s father, out of love for him and his mother, didn’t dare do because of the consequences. So instead of naming his beloved son Gianbattista, Giovanni, Benedetto, or Vincenzo—names with special significance for the Sforza family—he chose a less common name not on the dynastic list.
Don Giochino, Umberto’s father, kept delaying the moment when he would teach him the Old-World Mafia’s laws and traditions. When he finally decided it was time, he met anuntimely death. However, as far as Umberto knew, one needed The Council's approval to bestow a dynastic name on an illegitimate son.
The man invested considerable time and effort in creating a rift between Ottavio and the Old World Mafia's governing body. He nearly succeeded, but something happened, and the troublesome creature returned from hell with a vengeance, earning the forgiveness and trust of those he had been at war with just a few years earlier.
Dark magic. The superstitious Sicilian boy in Umberto couldn’t find another explanation for how things unfolded in that situation. The carefully and patiently built edifice of lies fell apart, and the web of deceit was destroyed in a flash. He didn’t see it coming.
Like he had countless times over the last three years, Umberto began to wonder where he had gone wrong, but, as always, he couldn't find an answer. Already emotionally drained and irritated, he pushed the questions that were bothering him to the back of his mind, his thoughts taking a different turn.
This time, his concern was solely his personal guard, Esteban Ortega. Umberto suspected the man had strong ties to the Old-World Mafia, possibly even to a member of The Council, because Ortega was the one who told him about that trash Ottavio giving his bastard a dynastic name.
Esteban was incredibly loyal and willing to protect Umberto and his children, especially Richard, even at the risk of his own life. However, he was a quiet man who kept everything to himself, making him very hard to read. He also followed a strict moral code, which, in his boss’s view, made him dangerous.
I wonder how he would react if he knew the truth about the circumstances that led to his conception, Umberto wondered to himself, his spine shivering. Most likely, he would give me aslow, ugly, and agonizing death, so I have to make sure the truth stays hidden.
It happened forty-one years earlier, when Umberto, the owner of several small but highly profitable companies and numerous real estate properties, was negotiating his marriage to Vanessa, the only daughter and heiress of an Irish multimillionaire who had built his fortune producing and selling various construction materials.
When he saw the beautiful eighteen-year-old Carmela, who had recently moved from California to care for her sick aunt, Umberto decided he had to possess her at any cost. Arrogant and entitled, he eliminated the only obstacle to his lust: the girl’s fiancé, Esteban, whom he killed.
A few months later, Carmela showed up at Umberto’s doorstep, telling him she was carrying the result of his heinous deed. The young man freaked out; it was only weeks until his wedding to Vanessa, and if she or her father found out what had happened, he risked losing everything.
Umberto promised Carmela he would take care of her and her unborn baby, and he fulfilled that promise—providing for her, clothing the boy, putting food on the table, and giving them both a place to live. By hiring her as his new bride’s maid, he believed he was offering the young woman more than someone in her situation could ever hope for.
Umberto wasn’t afraid Carmela would talk and reveal the secret about Esteban’s birth; it was in her best interest to stay quiet if she wanted to keep the privileged life she valued. Besides, he made it clear that if she ever told anyone, her son would suffer the same fate as her fiancé.
It would be a real waste, Umberto thought, his eyes as cold as ice, but if it ever became necessary... He left the sentence unfinished and checked his watch. I can’t believe how fast time flies, he told himself. The board meeting is in less than half anhour, and I haven't even looked through the reports yet. Back to the really important things, he opened a folder and began examining its contents.
**********
“Hello, is Papa home?” Allegra smiled at the sight of her father’s chief guard and her younger brother sparring with swords. “I think you'd better show him how to use a firearm; there’s no use for these anymore,” she said, pointing to their weapons.
