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I grin, unable to contain my elation. "It was wonderful. She's...different than the others, Father. Stronger. I think she could handle being in this world."
He nods thoughtfully. "I suspected as much when I saw the way she carries herself. We'll have to proceed carefully, but I believe she may be a fine match for you, my boy."
We talk late into the night, optimism for the future raising my spirits. The Moirai tattoo peeking out from my rolled-up sleeve seems less foreboding tonight. For some reason, we talk a lot about Mother.
Father tells me things I never knew, about how he bought her a brass wedding band when they had no money and years later, in America, when he wanted to buy her the biggest diamond he’d ever seen, she said she'd divorce him if he took away her most prized possession – the brass ring.
I tell him that in some ways, Tatiana is like her.
We talk and laugh as we reminisce. But Father needs his rest, and at around three a.m., I force both of us to retire. When I finally drift off to sleep in my bedroom, dreams of Tatiana dance in my head. My mother visits too. She tells me she's happy at last.
Morning light streams through my window sooner than expected. Frantic shouts jar me awake. I hear hurried footsteps. Someone shouts, "Has someone told Philippe?"
I throw on clothes and rush downstairs, dread pooling in my gut. Has there been an attack? I pray it's an attack, although I know full well that we handle attacks better than this. My worst fear is confirmed when I see Father's men gathered outside his room, faces grim.
"What has happened?" I demand. No one meets my gaze.
I push past them into the room. Father lies motionless on the bed, the ghost of a smile still on his lips.
Grief crashes over me in waves. I sink to my knees by the bed, barely noticing the book that has fallen to the floor. Bitter sobs wrack my body. Just last night, we were talking of the future, and now he is gone.
"Get out. Get out the whole lot of you," I command. "Make the calls. Begin preparations. Don Accardo waits for no one. Summon the priest, and ready the family burial ground in the back garden."
Immediately, I hear feet moving. The funeral I just declared will happen today on the compound itself.
With shaking hands, I gather soap and a washcloth from his ensuite bathroom. I prepare him and dress him in his finest suit. Each button I fasten feels like a dagger in my heart. Carefully, Idrape his rosary beads over his folded hands, tears blurring my vision. I take his Bible and place it on his chest.
When the preparations are complete, I plant a kiss on his forehead. "Goodbye, Father," I whisper. "I promise I will make you proud."
I hold on to the door for a second to steady myself as I exit Father's room. The weight of my new role settles like a heavy cloak on my shoulders. There is no time for grief now - I must show strength.
Men are already arriving to pay their respects, their faces solemn. I recognize many from Father's inner circle. Uncle Carlo, my mother’s brother, my father’s trusted advisor and childhood friend, clasps my shoulder in silent support.
"My deepest condolences," he says gruffly. "Your father was a great man."
“Thank you, Uncle Carlo.”
“Philippe,” Uncle Carlo’s associate begins.
“That’s Don Accardo to you,” Uncle Carlo snaps furiously.
The associate’s eyes widen, and my heart nearly stops. In an instant, people all around me are afraid to breathe as this new realization hits. The power dynamic just changed overnight, and now I am the most popular mafia boss in Philadelphia.
“I must go to get dressed,” I say curtly to no one in particular. Turning to Uncle Carlo, “Will you please follow up with the preparations that aren’t done yet? I believe you were privy to father’s funeral choices?”
“Don’t worry, Don Accardo. I’ve got this,” he lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Uncle,” I whisper near his ear. “Please. It’s me.”
“Behind closed doors, you’ll always be Philippe to me, son. But out here, remember, we all bow to you. Let no man, me included, treat you beneath your station.”
I nod, unable to speak. More men clear the path for me, murmuring words of sympathy and loyalty. I accept their offerings - this is all part of the ritual.
Once dressed, I stand at the entrance foyer, waiting to greet our families, our people, and our curious enemies. Today, the game changes, and we’re all vying to see what happens next.
A sleek black car pulls up, bearing the Carlisi family crest. Felix Carlisi steps out, flanked by his associates, wife and children. They embrace me warmly, pledging allegiance between our families.
"We came as soon as we heard," Felix says. "Your father was widely respected, also in New York. If you need anything, we're here."
