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Damn, she vexes me.
I take the next round of stairs to my father’s office, trying to find solace in the one place that distracts me from giving into my rage and the compulsive need to lay my hands on her. My anger isn’t something I wish on my enemy, and she is hardly one.
I punch the code into the drawer by the door that houses the key of the office and when it opens, I dip my hand in and retrieve it. I turn it into the keyhole and twist. With a click and clang it opens and I walk into the office, which comes alive with warm lights, detecting movement.
I head straight for the scotch in a decanter on the bar by the side of his desk and chair. I don’t bother for a glass, I open it and take a swig, wanting the bitter-sweet burning liquid to wash past my throat quickly and do a good job of easing the fire in the pit of my stomach.
I take more swigs, I can’t even count how many I’ve taken, and with the way I’m feeling, I might need to gobble down the entire thing to feel its effect. I’m not lightheaded when it comes to alcohol. I was told I started drinking when I was a toddler because my old man would scoop a spoonful and feed me with it. And the older I got, the more scoops I got.
I miss that man. I miss him so damn much it hurts to see how they are soiling the legacy he left behind. He wasn’t the easiest father to have, but he got some things right. And when my cause started manifesting, he was the only one who taught me how to harness it and bend it to my will.
I start to pace, feeling unsettled as the thought of having to put up with Claudio and my mother for the rest of my life starts to gain momentum in my mind. What a nightmare. But leaving, running, I won’t do it again. It’s the reason they feel they have this right in the first fucking place. Because I left.
I blow out an exasperated breath. I need to rest my head, I had a long night and have a longer day ahead. I drop the decanter on the desk and walk to the mini library to randomly pick up something from his history section to read that can bore me to hell and make me sleep.
As I walk past the little center table with a quill and a sage that has not been used for years, since his death, I have the urge to sit exactly where he used to sit, which is on the forest green one-seat cushion close to the table.
I’ve been avoiding certain things but I think it’s time to change that. I have to start walking in the prints of his footsteps if there’s hope for his legacy to stay evergreen.
I sit on the cushion and as I adjust my legs to fit into the space between the cushion and table, an off-sound piques my interest.
It’s coming from the floor. I stamp my boots against the hardwood and hear the hallowed sound again like there is something beneath it. I stamp my boots around but I don't get the same sound.
I search around and find a letter opener. I push the table to the side, then use the letter opener to glide through the sides of the rectangular woodcut and I pull.
A letter.
In a dusty white envelope, with my father’s stamp pressed into a blob of red wax on it, and… I pick it up and flip it. It's addressed to me. And it's been here all along.
My father spoke to me about everything, no matter how grisly the details. I knew his will before he died because I was in the room with his lawyer while he updated it. If he has something totell me that he couldn't say to me then, best believe I won't like what I'll be finding.
I drop my face in my palm and exhale sharply.
This is a secret.
I can feel the weight of it because words that cannot be said in person speak volumes.
And the one thing I know about secrets, especially when left by the dead to be found by the living, is that they are never good.
Chapter Three
BENITO
Son,
My fierce boy.
Like I always say, death has no friend.
If you are reading this, it is because I’m already dead.
I know death comes with grief but I hope you can look past yours and find this letter soon, before the iron gets too cold to twist. I know you enough to know that when your heart is home you will come into this study and you will find this letter.
Listen son, there's a seed of discord that has been sown between me and your uncle Claudio, and as you know, a house divided against itself cannot stand. The Corte clan is experiencing a division and your uncle is at the forefront of it.
Knowing my brother, he will not stop until he gets what he wants, which is my place, and he wants it now more than ever. If he doesn't take it now, it will be harder to get it later when you are ready to take over. And he has threatened to strike sooner, even though I am keeping things in place to make that vain.
If my death happens within a week after the date of this letter, then that's all the proof you need.
