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He had aimed to uphold a sense of honor, a code of conduct that ensured our actions didn't spiral into sheer anarchy.
But my uncle's actions were straying far from that vision. He was morphing the family business into something my father would have condemned.
The calculated moves, the blatant power plays. They were becoming reminiscent of the old ways, the ways my father had fought so hard to distance us from.
There was no way that I was about to let my uncle unravel everything my father had worked for.
I couldn't let his reckless ambition tarnish the legacy my father had left behind.
With renewed purpose, I turned to Antonio. "We must do whatever it takes to protect what my father built.Non possiamo lasciare che la sete di potere di Francisco faccia a pezzi tutto ciò che rappresentava (We can't let Francisco's lust for power tear apart everything he stood for)."
Antonio's resolute nod mirrored my sentiment. "We'll do whatever it takes, Matteo. Your father's legacy won't be compromised."
“Appoint men to keep an eye on Francisco and take note of where he goes and who he meets,” I ordered.
Antonio stood up, his expression determined. "I'll get on it right away. We'll keep a close watch on Francisco's movements and connections. If he's making any significant moves, we'll know."
"Bene (Well)," I replied, my tone firm. "And make sure those men are trustworthy, Antonio.Non possiamo permetterci perdite (We cannot afford losses)."
He nodded, his gaze resolute.
As Antonio left my office, a heaviness settled over me. The revelation of my uncle's ambitions lingered in my thoughts.
I couldn't believe the audacity of his plans and the blatant disregard for the newfound stability and respectability our family had achieved.
My father's teachings echoed in my mind about the importance of principles, honor, and unity.
It was painful to witness my uncle veering away from those values, embracing a path that threatened to plunge us back into the darkness we had fought so hard to escape.
My thoughts drifted back to my childhood, to the days when my father was still alive.
He had been a strong, principled man who had guided me with unwavering morals.
He had kept our family out of the more sinister aspects of the mafia, focusing on business ventures that aligned with his values, but with his passing, everything had changed.
Two distinct phases impacted my childhood, leaving an indelible mark on who I would become.
The early years were filled with warmth and affection, centered around the love of my parents.
My mother, a woman with a heart as vast as the sea, had been the anchor of our family.
Her eyes held gentleness; she had a smile that could chase away any worries and a voice that sang lullabies that had always made me feel safe. In those days, our home was a haven of laughter and joy.
My father, a man of principle and honor, worked tirelessly to provide for us. He was a figure of strength, his presence reassuring and unwavering.
Despite his busy schedule, he always made time for my mother and me, often regaling us with stories of his childhood and teaching me the values that would shape my life.
But life has a way of taking unexpected turns, and just as I was beginning to comprehend the world around me, my mother fell gravely ill.
The vibrant woman who had filled our home with laughter and love was now confined to a bed, her energy waning with each passing day.
Her illness cast a shadow over our lives, leaving my father and me grappling with a sense of helplessness that was almost suffocating.
As her condition deteriorated, my father became increasingly withdrawn, his once-sparkling eyes clouded with worry and sorrow.
He devoted himself to her care, doing everything within his power to alleviate her pain.
But despite his efforts, her health continued to decline, and it was as if a piece of our family's heart was slowly being chipped away.
