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He looked up, offering a reassuring smile. "Emilio left to deal with some family matters. The lawyer has called for a meeting regarding the will of his late father, Mathias Fiore."
"And I assume this is a big deal?"
He nodded solemnly. "Absolutely. The Fiore family is no ordinary family. Their wealth and influence run deep, and inheriting any part of that is significant. Emilio isn't particularly keen on the inheritance, but that’s the lawyer’s call."
I took a moment to absorb this. "Is Emilio emotionally okay with all of this?"
Enzo sighed, mirroring Emilio's complex emotions. "It's a two-sided coin for him, but he'll handle it. He always does."
Worry was etched in my features. "If he needs any support, I'm here for him."
Enzo nodded appreciatively. "He knows, Griselda. Your presence means a lot to him."
Enzo leaned back in his chair at the kitchen island, a contemplative look in his gray eyes. "Griselda, this family's history is tangled and complicated. Mathias Fiore was a powerful man in the world of organized crime. His influence, wealth, and properties are substantial."
I listened intently, understanding the gravity of what he was unveiling. "Emilio really mentioned that he isn't interested in inheriting any of it? I mean, the mafia business.”
Enzo nodded. "Absolutely. He doesn't want to be part of the mafia. The power struggles, the violence, the deceit—it's not what he envisions for his future."
A glimmer of light became visible at the end of the tunnel as Enzo shared Emilio's decision to step away from the suffocating grasp of the mafia's legacy. It was a glimmer that held the promise of a future I had lately come to dream of—a future with Emilio, free from the chains of crime and violence.
But as the sun began its gentle descent, painting the room in hues of gold and amber, my mind wandered to another aspect of this future that stirred both excitement and apprehension within me—my pregnancy.
I sat back, allowing my thoughts to drift into the realm of possibilities. I loved Emilio more deeply than I had ever imagined possible, and the idea of building a family with him filled my heart with warmth and hope.
I imagined Emilio by my side, his eyes reflecting the same love and tenderness that I felt for him. Our child nestled safely in my arms, a blend of our features and our love, a testament to the life we had created together. A life free from the darkness that had haunted our past.
In my vision, Emilio was the doting father, caring and protective, a stark contrast to the life he had known as a child. He would guide and nurture our children, imparting love and wisdom and giving them a life devoid of fear and secrecy.
We would be a family bound by love, not blood. Our child would grow up in a world where they would be free to chase their dreams, unburdened by the expectations of an infamous legacy.
But even as I reveled in this beautiful vision, the reality of our circumstances lingered in the corners of my mind. The battles for power, the complex web of family dynamics, and the shadows of the mafia were not easily escaped.
Could we truly shed this life? Could Emilio morph out of the mold of expectations and demands of his family? The questions pulsed in my mind, a reminder that change often progressed in steps and certainly would not be simple.
Nonetheless, I clung to the glimmer of hope. Emilio had taken the first step—a step away from the life that shackled him.
As my thoughts danced in the delicate balance between dreams and reality, a sobering reminder nudged its way into my consciousness. Amidst the swirl of hopes and aspirations, I had yet to share one of the most significant aspects of my life with Emilio—our child, growing within me.
The mere thought of revealing my pregnancy to him injected a sense of both joy and trepidation into my heart. A part of me longed to share this secret, but another part of me feared for his reaction. Nonetheless, I hoped for the best.
After today’s reading, Emilio was going to be free.
Chapter 30
Emilio
Theconferenceroomborethe solemnity one would expect for the reading of a will. Mahogany furniture and muted lighting created a formal atmosphere, a setting that matched the gravity of the occasion.
I sat at the polished table, flanked by my uncle Luigi and my older brother Carlo, waiting for the lawyer to begin. The lawyer, Mr. Thompson, a man of seasoned experience with a stoic demeanor, cleared his throat and glanced over his glasses at the gathered family members.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today for the reading of the last will of the late Mathias Fiore."
His words felt like a drumroll, the anticipation and anxiety amplifying with each passing moment. I, however, felt detached, the proceedings a mere formality. My mind was occupied elsewhere, straying to thoughts of Griselda and the future I wished to build with her.
"The document before us has been verified for its authenticity, and the necessary legal procedures have been observed," Mr. Thompson continued, leafing through the pages of the will.
I exchanged a glance with Carlo, our eyes locking briefly. The tension in the room was palpable, each family member keenly aware of what was at stake. My father's passing had left a void, and now we were to witness the division of his legacy.
