Twisted Obsession (Editing)

23 - Inheritance

The plane began to taxi, and I felt the familiar surge of acceleration as we lifted off the ground. I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to center myself and get some rest for tomorrow .

As hours and hours passed the city of Palmero shrank beneath us. Palermo awaited us, a city steeped in history and tradition, much like our family. The funeral would be held at the grand cathedral where generations of our ancestors had been married, and mourned. It was only fitting that my father would be laid to rest there, among the saints and relic- who am I kidding? This whole thing was one big fucking joke. My father was gone, but his legacy lived on unfortunately. It was up to me to ensure that his life's work didn't crumble because it was all I ever knew, all I ever worked hard for. I built this shit, taking his dirty work making it so much bigger. I gave him his fucking name.

The plane descended over Palermo, the city sprawling beneath us like a living tapestry. As we touched down. Stepping off the plane, the warm Sicilian air greeted us. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the day ahead. We gathered our belongings and made our way to the car that awaited us, ready to take us to our family home so we could get ready for the funeral.

As we drove through the streets of Palermo, memories of my childhood flooded back. The narrow alleys, the bustling markets, the scent of citrus and sea-it was all so familiar, yet tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia. This city had shaped so much of who I was, but it also held the darker secrets of my family's past.

Alessio sat beside me in the car, staring out the window with a look of indifference. He never cared for our father, and I couldn't blame him. Our father had been a hard, often cruel man, his love tough and his expectations impossible. Thinking back on it, Riccardo leaving should have been a sign to us about dad's cruelty but we were too blinded by love to see it so we neglected our own brother. It was fucked up but then again our father was a master manipulator.

The car turned onto the street where our family home stood, a grand villa surrounded by tall, wrought-iron gates. The house loomed ahead, its stone walls and ivy-covered façade a stark reminder of our family's legacy. We pulled up to the entrance, and the driver stepped out to open the door for us.

My mother and Gianna exited the car first, moving toward the house with a sense of purpose. Alessio hesitated for a moment, watching as I lingered by the car.

"You coming?" He asked.

I nodded, finally turning to face him. "Yeah, let's get this over with."

We entered the villa, the familiar scent of polished wood and fresh flowers filling the air. The house was already buzzing with activity, relatives and family friends bustling around, preparing for the funeral. I could hear my mother's voice directing the staff, ensuring everything was perfect for the ceremony.

I made my way to my old room, where my tailored suit was placed for me by housekeeping. As I changed. Alessio knocked on my door, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He was already dressed in his suit, looking every bit the part of the dutiful son. But I could see the simmering anger in his eyes.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice low. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, sitting down on the single seater. "Mama and Gianna still don't know the truth," Alessio said quietly, not looking at me. "About what he really was."

I glanced at him, seeing the tension in his jaw. "They don't need to know, Alessio. It would break their hearts."

He shrugged, his expression hardening. "Maybe. But living a lie isn't any better." he looks up at me, challenging me. I could see how much it pained him to see our mother and sister cry over an asshole. I don't respond. "If they find out we hid this from them, they'll hate us." he swallows, standing back up before turning to leave.