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Matteo
Theairwasheavywith mixed emotions as the anniversary of my father's death approached. It was a big event, a day of remembrance and reflection.
For some, it was a time of mourning, a chance to honor the memory of a man who had been both feared and respected.
For others, it was an opportunity to pay their respects to the legacy he had left behind.
I had to put on a strong front to show the world I could carry on my father's legacy and maintain the De Luca family's position of power and influence.
The preparations for the event were elaborate, with the mansion adorned in black and white, the colors of mourning.
The corridors were filled with the hushed voices of family members and associates, all paying their respects in their own way as Francisco welcomed them into the building.
I turned my head away in disgust as he received their condolences.
Who was he to receive them when he didn't even care that his brother had died?
The mask he put on his face filled me with a lot of irritation, and I ended up walking away.
My aimless walk led me down a corridor, and my footsteps slowed when I approached one of my father's portraits.
I stood there, staring into his eyes as if seeking guidance from the man who had shaped my life in more ways than one.
Memories of our time together flooded my mind, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of loss, a longing for his presence that could never be fulfilled.
Standing there, I had no idea just how much time had passed until I received a message from Antonio telling me that the event had begun.
I looked up at my father's portrait and silently prayed for strength to keep my anger in check when I saw Francisco's face later.
Today should be about my father and nobody else.
I walked back to the room I had exited and saw that it was filled with familiar faces, some of whom I had known since childhood.
They all had stories about my father, his power, wit, and generosity.
The event progressed with speeches and toasts in his honor, each word a testament to the impact he had on the lives of those around him.
I listened intently, my mind drifting to memories of my own, the moments I had spent with him, learning the ropes of the family business and absorbing his wisdom.
But beneath the surface, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the responsibility thrust upon me. I had some big shoes to fill, and I often wondered if I could live up to his legacy.
Even though I wasn't the Don, I didn't plan to remain under my uncle's reign for long. If I succeeded…
No.
WhenI succeeded in my plans to take my rightful place back, would I be capable of leading the family to my father's expectations?
As the night wore on, the atmosphere shifted from somber to celebratory. It was a tradition to end the event with a grand feast.
This was a symbolic gesture to honor the abundance my father had provided for the family during his lifetime, but even as laughter and music filled the air, a sense of emptiness lingered in my heart.
Constantly seeing my uncle play the role of a grieving brother pissed me off to no end, making me wish I could riddle his body with bullets.
When my father had died, he didn't care. Now, he was pretending in front of everyone. It was sickening to watch.
Disgustoso (Disgusting).
Finally reaching my limit of watching Francisco putting on a display, I excused myself from the festivities, signaling to Antonio and Leo that I was alright and just needed space before retreating to the solitude of my father's study.
