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Goliath pulled Mrs. Bernoulli back and kept her away from the danger, no matter how hard she struggled to get to her husband. She cried and begged while I smashed his face under my fists, but there was nothing the witch could say to make me stop. Finally, all that dark anger locked in me had a target, and it felt good. When I was done with Martino, I gave him ten times what he gave Pina.
§
Giovani’s men took Mrs. Bernoulli and the limp body of her husband and stuffed them in a van with instructions to dump them at a hospital outside of town where they could patch Martino up. Giovani gave them three days to get out of Italy before he’d put a bounty on their head. I didn’t feel any satisfaction when all was done because nothing changed the fact that Martino put his hands on Pina, but I got to burn out some of my frustration.
Goliath and Giovani insisted on driving me home and at first, I thought they wanted to keep an eye on me, but I found out soon enough that they were looking for something else.
Giovani cleared his throat and put a hand on my shoulder.
“How are you feeling, little brother?”
“I’m fine.”
“You need to leave all this at the door, don’t bring anything home to Pina.” I nodded and he kept talking. “When you’re home, you’re not the same man that just turned Martino into a bag of broken bones, remember that.”
“I know, Giovani.”
“You threatened Pina’s mother.” He said, finally driving the discussion to the point. “What did she mean when she said she knows your secret, Garon?”
“Nothing.” My mouth went dry. It looked like the buried bodies in my closet were digging themselves up and reaching for the surface. The promise I made to Pina was very fresh in my memory, and while she promised me time to tell the truth on my own terms, I’d had an itch ever since that night. I was fucking tired of having Damocles’ sword hanging above my head.
Goliath was driving, all I could see was the back of his head, but Giovani was next to me in the back seat. He was relaxed, his face calm, waiting for me to make the next move.
“Why did you call for Martino Bernoulli to be brought to you?” I asked. “You didn’t know Pina was with him when you gave the order.”
“No, I didn’t. I would have had her out much faster if I did.” He kept his voice level. “When Salvatore killed father, I talked with Martino and told him thefamigliahas turned its back on him, but I didn’t send him into exile. He left Palermo because he wanted to.”
“I know, so why call for him now? He wasn’t breaking any rules.”
“I figured you’d want a chat with him. Giorgio called and said you were out cold, that you and Pina had a fight, so I ordered what you couldn’t at the time. I knew having Martino cornered would be the first thing you did when you’d have sobered up.” He wasn’t wrong.
“You did it to have my back.”
Giovani scoffed. “You sound surprised. Don’t I always? Half of my time as Don I’ve spent it looking out for you, little brother.”
I’d thrown a lot of shit at my brothers, especially since Fabiano died, and they never caved. Pina was right, I’ve lived on the edge to see if they’d push me and let me fall, but it never happened. Maybe it was time to know for sure if I was worth anything more than a blood connection to them.
After sitting in silence, listening to the car wheels rolling over the cobblestone on the road, I found my balls and turned to Giovani.
“I’m not your brother.” The words crushed the silence. “I’m not Fabiano Caputo’s son.”
Giovani was groomed to lead a crime family since he was in the cradle. Nothing could get to him and this was no different. My confession didn’t move a muscle on my oldest brother’s face. Goliath on the other hand, usually so calm and silent people often forgot he was in the room despite his impressive size, choked on air and pulled the car to the curb abruptly.
When Goliath turned his face around, his expression was almost comical.
“What the fuck does that mean?” His voice was thicker than the darkness of the night. Before getting an answer from me, he looked at Giovani. “Why the fuck aren’t you more surprised?”
Giovani shrugged. “I knew.”
It was my turn to look at him matching Goliath’s shocked grimace. “You knew?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Mom told me before she died.”
“She did?”
“In a way. She never told me you weren’t Father’s son, but the day she died she called me into her hospital room, just me, no one else, and told me she was afraid Fabiano might cut you off after she’s gone, or that he might try to send you away. She begged me to look after you.” He sighed, probably dreading those last memories when our mother was wasting away in a hospital bed, disease eating her from the inside. “When I became Don, I found some papers Father kept hidden, including a paternity test. It just confirmed what I already knew.”
“You knew.” This time it wasn’t a question. I didn’t know how to feel about this.
