La Donna

Eight

"Of course! I'd love to be your right-hand!" Filomena accepted the position with open arms.
"Filomena, please," I peeled her off of me. "You must take this seriously and be modest about it. This isn't a hobby. This is a job." I warned.
"I know, Bennie. I know what a consigliere does for a don, well, donna, in this case." She touched my hand.
"And you must live by the code of òmerta. There is loyalty in silence." I added.
"Of course." My sister-in-law nodded.
"Promise me one thing, Filomena." I began. "Promise me you will never speak of what you see and hear when you are in my presence."

"I promise."

[...]

More time had passed and I spent my days between Raffaele's smiles and meetings amongst my father's men. Michelangelo was a good set of ears to be in the room when I held court. He was levelheaded, decisive and fair. Filomena quickly became versed in everything she ever needed to know about the family and lived up to everything I ever hoped she'd be as consigliere. She was patient, logical and equally levelheaded as her brother.

Outside of these meetings, I devoured sweet moments with my son in the garden sunshine. Raffaele had been growing quickly and I cherished every second I could with him. He toddled on the grass with his arms open wide to receive me in his tiny embrace. My husband appeared from our house on the compound and sat beside us in the garden.

"He looks like you more and more everyday, Michele." I looked up at my husband as we basked in the sunshine. Our son sat down to play with his blocks while I observed him quietly.
"If only he had a sister to resemble his beautiful mother." Michelangelo touched my cheek gently.
"Well, we can work on that soon. After Mancini's funeral." My tone softened.
"Bennie, I know you had to do-"
"After the funeral." I cut off Michele's sentence.

He knew that I had Vincenzo carry out Enzo's hit in cold blood. I wept in secret the night it occured and my husband was the one to collect me. It was my first hit that hit too close to home. I worried and cried more about what I would tell my father versus what St. Peter would think of me when my time to enter heaven comes.

Daddy did not lament when I broke the news to him. He gave me a singular nod and understood that what I did was just a confirmation of what he suspected over the years:
Enzo Mancini was a weak-link.

The idea of Filomena coming in and filling the position of consigliere didn't please him, but once he saw how observant and willing to learn my sister-in-law was, he acquiesced.

[...]

Upon entering the cathedral, I genuflected then shuffled into a pew beside my siblings. There was a smattering of made men through the chapel and I knew that I had full control over each and every one of them. A shift in the air appeared once I became fully situated beside Michelangelo. Raffaele sat on my lap flipping through the mass pamphlet.
Filomena quickly genuflected and shuffled into the seat at the end of our pew. She sat next to me with a soft glow about her.

"Where were you this morning? We had to leave without you." I scolded her in a whispered tone.
"I spent the night at a friend's." She shrugged off my distain with a nonchalant response.
"At a friend's? I know all of your friends. They work for me." I muttered.
"You know this friend." My sister-in-law lowered her gaze as Adam walked into the church. He sauntered in with a bit of confidence in his step. I knew that strut. I was the cause of that strut for nearly a year.

Adam Keary had become infatuated with a woman.

Filomena's dark eyes subtly followed my ex's path and I quickly put two and two together.

Adam and Filomena had been fucking.

Michelangelo softly touched my hand and I was quickly reminded of the promise I made to him some time ago. I promised my husband that I'd never speak to Adam again.