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Vincenzo
There are three of us in the meeting. The Don, at the top of the table, slowly dying. Me, about to take over.
This whole building and all the employees in it will soon be under my command. And Ophelia, shifting in her seat, looking uncomfortable, and I know why. The plug is in there, making its presence felt with every movement she makes.
She has agreed to this. She did not use the safe word. She is willing to obey my command.
She is the perfect woman.
Here we are, in the building where I gave her roommate an office for virtually nothing. So much has changed since then. Yet, much remains the same.
My feelings for Ophelia have grown stronger, that is one thing that is different.
Maybe it can work between us. Maybe I won’t break her. Everything has led up to this point without either of us getting hurt. The only one who got hurt was Michael.
What a way to die, sprinting away from me without thinking of using the gun in his hand. Too panicked to turn and try and shoot me.
Crashing through the door into the stairwell, looking back over his shoulder at the wrong moment. I can still see that surprise in his face when he started to trip.
I reached out to grab him but he was already falling, landing at the bottom of the stairwell with a crunch that could mean only one thing.
By the time I got to him, the light had already gone from his eyes. All that was left to do was get Rocky to arrange a collection.
My only rival is dead. The man who spent so many years being the golden child. The cause of so many of the scars on my body. The man who encouraged my first love to run off all those years ago. The gambler. The woman beater.
Gone.
I look across at my father. I’ve just told him Michael is dead though I haven’t said how it happened. He is silent, lost in thought. I glance across at Ophelia. Her expression gives nothing away. She would make a good poker player.
“Family is important,” father says, looking at me at last, his eyes more bloodshot than last time I saw him. His voice is a wheeze, like he’s an inflatable chair shot full of holes. “Michael is dead at your hands. At last, you prove to me you have what it takes to rule an empire.”
He points at Ophelia. “You used her to get what you wanted. You killed your own brother. You are an icy cold bastard, Vincenzo. At last, I have respect for you. She may not be pregnant but you removed your only rival. What choice do I have but to give the empire to you?” He turns toward Ophelia, a horrible smile forming on his lips. “Didn’t tell you that part, I’m guessing?”
“What part?” she replies, sounding nervous.
“That the marriage was a scam, a lie, a cheat. He only put that ring on your finger to gain control of the east coast operation. Pretended he loved you, did he?”
Ophelia doesn’t look broken. In fact, she manages to smile. “It was a business deal,” she says. “He offered me money to marry him. There was no affection involved.”
She sounds like she’s telling the truth. Is she that good a liar or has this all been about money and I’ve been the one taken for a ride? “I don’t care about him,” she continues. “I needed money, that was all. He was clear from the start that he simply needed to be married to take over.” She taps the paperwork on the desk, running her finger across my father’s signature. “Now it’s all nice and above board, no need to hide the truth anymore, right?”
Father turns a pair of furious eyes on me. “You duped me? You told me you had lied to her. Told me you’d conned her into this wedding. Now I find out she was conning you for cash? How did you let this happen?”
“The thing about cons,” I reply. “Is that everyone is running them. Michael lied about his gambling and you believed him. I lied about using her and you believed me. And I’ll tell you something.”
He starts gasping for air, putting his hand to his throat, his face turning purple.
“I will not run things the way you ran them,” I tell him, ignoring his hands as they start to claw at me. “Look at you. Spent a lifetime cheating and manipulating and how are you going to die? Alone and unloved. No one to care for you. You were a bastard to me when I was little. You let Michael kick the shit out of me for years. How could you watch your own son having his fingers broken by his brother and not care?”
“It was to toughen you up,” he says. “I didn’t want you to be soft.”
“It worked. Here I am watching my own father fighting for breath and you know what I feel? Nothing at all. I hope it was worth it.”
He manages to get his breath back under control, the color returning to his cheeks. He gasps several times, before leaning back in his chair, his hands trembling. “You cheated me,” he says, looking at the paperwork in front of him. “Why shouldn’t I destroy this? Let the empire die with me?”
“Because you are bitter but not a fool. You would still rather the empire remain within the family. And I know that, deep down, you are proud that I took advantage of you, that I lied to you. That is what you wanted from your children, wasn’t it? To do whatever it took to get to the top.”
He looks back at me, lips narrowed, saying nothing.
