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Being sold out by his own son was a bitter pill to swallow.
Being confined twenty-three hours a day in a single cell with facilities made of poured, reinforced concrete, under twenty-four-hour supervision, intensively carried out with high staff-inmate ratios, gave Marco no opportunity to corrupt any of them. He had no access to a cell phone and calls weren’t allowed, unless permission was granted by the warden of whom only conceded once to Marco contacting his attorneys. It had been a wasted phone call since he remained incarcerated in solitary confinement. The worst was that he had been denied visiting rights with no way of relaying his extreme situation to anyone… not even his dear wife, Isabella.
He was so immersed in thoughts of self-pity; he didn’t hear the soft click of the latch in the reinforced steel door opening.
“Hands, Prisoner 8284431.”
The droning voice was muted by the cacophony of his own thoughts racing through his mind.
“Prisoner 8284431! Get the fuck over here. You have a visitor.”
The bellowing voice yanked him from his reverie. “A visitor? Since when am I allowed—”
“I’m not here to chit-chat. Get over here or I will tell the warden you don’t wish to… ah, I see you’re a weak little lamb after all.” The guard snorted derisively. “Strange what even a small amount of freedom does to men who used to be all powerful, isn’t it?”
“Fuck off,” Marco snapped and then groaned as the guard locked chained cuffs around his wrists and yanked his arms through the opening, deliberately scraping off a layer of skin.
“I suggest you shut your trap, asshole. I’m not afraid of you.” He released his arms. “Step back, turn around and get on your knees.”
Knowing it served no purpose to resist, Marco did as he instructed. His face turned crimson with anger as the guard locked the chain attached to his wrists to the fetters around his ankles. He hated how degrading it felt to shuffle about whenever he was allowed to leave his cell for his daily exercise break.
For now, he had no choice. Soon, his attorneys would convince the sentencing court to overturn his conviction. Money was power and Marco had more than most men.
“Let’s go.”
Marco was surprised and elated to see Isabella pacing the room. He looked around. It wasn’t the secure visitor’s room he’d met with his attorneys in immediately after his incarceration but instead, a luxuriously decorated lounge with thick carpets, plush chairs, and sofas.
The guard yanked him back as he rushed towards her.
“Forget it. The warden offered this room in respect for your delicate wife, not for your pleasure. You will not go near her.” He locked the chain into a welded iron shackle against the one wall. “Behave, Prisoner 8284431.” He looked at Isabella. “I will be right outside the door, ma’am. Just shout if he tries anything. I suggest you keep your distance from him, Mrs. Boneiro. He’s turned nasty over the past couple of months.”
“Thank you, sir, but I believe I’ll be fine.”
Marco soaked in the husky timbre of her voice. She always spoke with kindness, which made her loved by everyone in the Mafia. Her every intonation was a symphony. She always offered words of wisdom. Most of all he yearned to hear the words he reveled in:“I love you.”He struggled with the thought as he realized she hadn't expressed it for years.
“How did you manage to get permission to see me?”
“We’ve been married for years and still you doubt my abilities.”
“That’s not true, my love. You have always been my strength. If not for you, I wouldn’t have risen so quickly through the ranks to be head of the Commission.”
“I’m surprised you admit as much.” Isabella sat down in one of the wingback chairs in front of the window. She looked regal, like a queen on her throne. “You have underestimated me, Marco.”
“How so?”
“And you completely fucked up.”
“Ifucked up! It was your son who put me in here, Isabella! Luca betrayed us. He tore our family apart and for what? To grab the power I worked for all these years?”
“No, my dear husband. Luca only followed my orders. Something you failed to do more times than I care to remember.”
Marco glowered at her. Isabella had always been demanding, especially insofar as being in charge. He’d accommodated her purely because her suggestions had successfully played out to cement his position as the future kingpin of a crime syndicate in the United States. It was only now that he realized why. It had always been her ambition to usurp his power for her own.
“Followed your orders? What the fuck are you saying?”
“Your failure started many years ago, Marco. I have been biding my time, silently guiding you in the right direction until Luca and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that we had enough to finally put you and your associates in The Commission away for good.” She crossed her legs with feminine grace. “None of them could ever execute the tasks I required to extend our reign as a family into the future. Their thinking was too conservative— the whole lot of you.”
“You? But… I don’t understand.” Marco struggled to comprehend the implication of her words.
