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The house is deadly silent.
When my father passed, he left a hole.
His jovial laughter is missing—his wise face, too. His deep voice and the way that he made everyone around him feel loved have gone.
His strength.
He’s deeply missed, and I am empty.
I have nothing left to offer. Grief is all I can see.
Lorenzo has stepped up and taken over for us. He’s caring for our family, easing our pain as much as he can.
My mother is quiet, pensive, and barely holding it together. The pain on her face is unbearable.
Francesca is heartbroken and won’t speak at all. When she does, it’s through her tears. She’s only fifteen years old—way too young to be left without a father. I die a little inside every time I look at her.
“Your mother is nearly ready,” Lorenzo says behind me.
I nod, the lump in my throat hurting. “How do we do this?”
Lorenzo falls into the chair beside me and closes his eyes.
He, too, is in pain.
“How do we say goodbye?” I whisper.
“We put one foot in front of the other and do what we need to do.”
“Then what?”
His eyes rise. “We avenge their deaths, Enrico,” he whispers. “We have the names. We know who is responsible. Let us take them out.”
His profile is blurred as I stare at him through tears.
“We can’t go forward without your lead, son.”
I drop my head, defeated. “I can’t take over. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Yes, you can… and in time, you will. Give us the goahead to take care of this, Enrico, I’m begging you.”
We’ve had this conversation every day now. He won’t give up. Hunger for revenge is his only goal. I drag my hands through my hair in despair. My father’s men want to start a war. They want my approval to kill the men responsible for their deaths.
I’m the only one who can give it, but I know that once I consent, I’m agreeing to taking over. To this lifestyle. To turning into something I despise.
The Don, leader of darkness.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I glance down. The name Olivia lights up the screen and my heart constricts. My beautiful angel. The only person I do want to see is the one that I can’t. I put my phone back into my pocket. I can’t speak to her right now. Not until I’m stronger. If I do, I’ll cry like a baby.
I don’t want her to feel my pain through the phone, because she would. She’s so in tune with me that I couldn’t hide my heart from her. I’m not whole anymore.
When my father died, he took a piece of me with him. The best part.
He took my belief that I was good.
________
I stand and stare at the coffin as it sits in the ground. Dark rosewood against dirt.
