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“The doctors aren’t sure what happened,” Dante explains, his face etched with discontent. The grim line tells us that he isn’t impressed by the doctor’s explanation. “Fausto woke up a couple of days ago extremely sick. He attributed it to food poisoning from a restaurant he’d gone to the night before. But by the afternoon, his bodyguard was concerned because he was too emaciated from vomiting to stand. The man coaxed Fausto into the car and took him to the hospital.”
I take a sip of my whiskey and coke, the comforting burn sliding down my throat as I wait for the bomb to drop. Fausto Terlizzi did not die of food poisoning; it seems impossible that a man who tormented me my entire life and chastised me for picking a different path would be killed by some bad fish.
“When he got to the hospital, it was determined that he was severely dehydrated. This is where the timeline gets a little hazy,” Dante sighs. “One nurse said that she gave Fausto an IV for dehydration, while another said that she gave him an IV tohelp with the nausea and vomiting. However, at some point, he allegedly ripped out the IVs and left. There is no paperwork that denotes what medication Fausto received. I told the hospital that I would be suing for negligence.”
“But what happened after father left the hospital?” I frown, my mind grappling to process the chain of events.
Dante shakes his head, weariness filling his gaze. “The bodyguard was nowhere to be found, so Fausto tried to drive himself home. He died en route after hitting a guardrail at 60. Luckily, no one else was involved in the crash, but police officers mentioned charges of reckless endangerment and driving under the influence. Apparently, he had a metric shit ton of drugs in his system.”
My otherwise prim and proper sister snorts into her soda, her disbelief resonating through the room. “As if. Father doesn’t even take Aspirin when he has a headache. There’s no way he was under the influence of anything.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dante concedes with a nod. “We had our own autopsy done, and a toxicology report showed benzodiazepines, methadone, propoxyphene, and PCP in his system.”
Salvatore gets to the point before Dante does, his voice dripping with suspicion. “Father was drugged.”
My brain feels a little slow. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the shock still setting in, but my thoughts refuse to race at their usual speed. While my brothers start volleying ideas back and forth, it isn’t until Lucia asks, “What about Chrissy or whatever your deceased wife’s daughter’s name is?” that it dawns on me.
“No,” I protest, my voice laced with disbelief, feeling like all the sensation has drained from my body. “Christine never would have done something like this.”
“What about her family?” Luciano chimes in. “Her uncles are pretty fearsome or something, aren’t they?”
Father died on Tuesday, four days after Giovanni showed up. He threatened me, butonlyme. He didn’t threaten to hurt my family, only me. Right?
Dante speaks for me. “There has been some controversy between the Lucatello brothers and Nic, but let’s not rule out Father’s other enemies. The Lucatellos had a problem withNic, not a problem with the Terlizzis.”
“What’d you do?” Salvatore asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “You get their little angel pregnant?”
God, I hope so, but I don’t think that’s it. “No, Sally,” I shoot him a glare. “Her uncle wants to arrange a marriage between her and some Castiglione enforcer. He said it’ll strengthen their alliance.”
Dante’s brow furrows as he pieces together an imaginary puzzle. He runs his finger around the rim of the glass in front of him, lost in thought. “Why does he need to strengthen his alliance with the Castigliones? The Lucatellos are a cog in the machine. It would be a step down for the Castigliones to marry off one of their enforcers to Christine.” His mind churns, attempting to conceive every possible scenario. This is why he’s the prized Terlizzi; Dante can see all sides of a problem at once.
“Unless said enforcer is a known murderer and no one of note wants to marry their daughter to him.” Dante knows this; I’vetold him everything I know about Rocco Castiglione, and I’m sure he’s found out even more in his research.
“Which would strengthen the Lucatellos’ relationship with the Castigliones by showing their trust and loyalty. Saverio would want to show his appreciation, but the Lucatellos aren’t hurting for money,” Dante mumbles, lost in his thoughts. His mind works like a detective unraveling a complex case.
“Which means Leonardo Lucatello would ask for a position among the leadership. His counsel and wisdom are widely revered; he would have a lot to offer the Castiglione family. But if no position was open…” he trails off, his voice tinged with realization.
“Giovanni told me that his father was retiring, and he’d be in charge of the Lucatello operations from now on,” I remind my older brother.
That’s the final piece of the puzzle Dante needs. His head snaps up, his eyes widening with the weight of his realization. “Giovanni killed Father so Leonardo could take up the role of Consigliere. That puts Leonardo in a cushy position that doesn’t require him to get his hands dirty and gives Giovanni leadership over the second most important family in the Castiglione machine. They’re no longer cogs in the machine; theyarethe machine.”
That does not bode well for the Terlizzi family. If Dante is right, after Fausto is laid to rest, Saverio Castiglione will announce his successor. When it comes to Consigliere, a position known for counseling the head of the family, nepotism is forgotten. The Consigliere must be wise but not willing to undermine their boss. They must achieve a delicate balance of wanting to see the family succeed without seeking power for themselves.
“Lucia, we’ve allowed you to go your own way,” Dante begins, “but whatever you hear at this table must never be repeated.”
She rolls her eyes at Dante, a lingering hint of her teenage rebellion still present. “Okay,Dad,” Lucia exaggerates the word, her sarcasm dripping off her tongue. “Tell me something I don’t know.” Sometimes I envy her for being granted the freedoms that our father detested me for taking without his permission.
Dante gestures at the bartender, and in no time at all, a round of bourbon is brought to the table. Shot glasses are placed in front of each of us, brimming with dark amber liquid, emanating a smoky aroma.
“Things are going to change going forward,” he addresses us, his voice authoritative. “If the Lucatellos are making a play for power, we have to be ready. Father thought that marrying Niccolo off to Caterina would create an alliance between our families, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
The moment Caterina died, I became useless to the Lucatellos. If I had been more involved in the family business like Dante, I might have seen this coming.
“I think it’s no surprise that I will take over the family now that Father has passed.”
Luciano slaps his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with mock astonishment. “Oh, my God, I did not see this coming.”
Dante retaliates by throwing a used napkin at him. “Shut up,” he says with a grin. “The Lucatellos are positioning themselves for a war, which means we’ll need to adjust our ranks to keep everyone safe.”
