Arturo and Lucrezia had been separated for weeks, longing for a reunion, but never having the courage to take the first step. Finally, the day came, and the two lovers stood in the same room, their eyes locking instinctively. The tension between them was palpable, and Arturo could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to reach out, to take Lucrezia in his arms and never let go, but he nervously took a step back, suddenly unsure of what to do or say.
Lucrezia seemed to sense his trepidation and stepped forward, her hand slowly reaching out to touch his arm. The warmth of her touch was enough to melt the doubt in Arturo's mind, and with a trembling breath he leaned in and kissed her, their mouths uniting in a passionate embrace. The blissful moment passed all too quickly, and Arturo finally pulled away, his heart racing in his chest.
Lucrezia smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy, and Arturo felt his heart swell. He knew that no matter what happened, he would always be hers. The next few weeks were filled with blissful moments, as Arturo kept all his promises and dedicated his time to Lucrezia and to his son.
He was happy to be with Lucrezia again, and he felt as though his life was finally complete. He loved Sofia, but he knew he was not in love with her, and he felt no hesitation in investing his entire heart in Lucrezia. A month later, Sofia gave birth to their son, Armando Marchetti. Arturo was overjoyed to have two sons, and he was determined to give them both the love and attention that they deserved. Sofia, however, was less than enthusiastic about the situation. She struggled to handle the fact that Arturo was still in love with Lucrezia, and she resented him for spending more time with Lucrezia and his son rather than with her and the newborn baby.
She endured it, however, because she wanted her son to have the life he deserved, and she knew that this required Arturo to be in his life. She couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the relationship that Arturo and Lucrezia shared, and she longed for the day when he would only have eyes for her. As time went on, Sofia's resentment towards Lucrezia and Arturo's relationship only grew. She would often make snarky remarks about the way they looked at each other, or how they would spend hours talking on the phone. Arturo tried his best to reassure her, telling her that Lucrezia was just a good friend and nothing more, but Sofia couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more going on between them.
"Your words are just that. Words. There's no meaning behind it, but deep inside, I know you're still in love with her, Arturo. I just know it. I see how you look at her every time we see her with your other son and you never look at me that way." Sofia thought.
One day, Sofia's suspicions that something was going on between Arturo and Lucrezia became more powerful than her ability to contain them. Dressed in her finest, she drove to Lucrezia's house, determined to get the truth. As she stepped through the door, Lucrezia smiled warmly and invited her inside. Greeting her with a stony face, Sofia quickly revealed her suspicions.
"I know something is going on between you and Arturo!" she spat out.
Lucrezia raised an eyebrow, "Oh? What has given you that idea?"
Sofia was about to answer when Arturo strolled in—towel still wrapped around him—fresh from the shower with a joyful voice. "Darling, who is at the door?" Sofia's heart plummeted and rage surged through her veins.
"Arturo!" she roared, "What the hell are you doing here!? You were supposed to be on a business trip!"
Lucrezia tried to stand up and excuse herself, but before she could get away, Sofia delivered a powerful slap on her face with a venomous hiss. "You Bitch!" she yelled as her hands were shaking in anger and disbelief.
Lucrezia stumbled backward from the force of the slap, her hand to her cheek in shock. Arturo tried to step in between them, but Sofia pushed him away.
"Don't you dare try to stop me! How could you do this to me!?" Sofia yelled, tears streaming down her face. "I trusted you!" Sofia continued, her voice shaking with rage and pain. "I gave you everything, and you go behind my back with this slut?!"
Lucrezia's face contorted with rage, she hissed, "Don't you dare call me a slut! He loves me, and you were just a convenience for him to pass the time. You're nothing but an empty-headed cunt he fucks for a bit of fun!"
Sofia's fist shot forward and struck Lucrezia across the cheek, leaving behind a red welt. Lucrezia crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down her face as Arturo rushed to her side, pulling her up and glaring at Sofia.
"Enough!" he bellowed. "Both of you, stop this madness!"
Sofia glared at Arturo with fury burning in her eyes. "How could you defend her!?" she spat. "After everything I did for you!?" her voice started to crack. Her anger slowly turned to disgust and disappointment.
Arturo's gaze was icy as he spoke.
"I'm not defending anyone!" he growled before turning his attention to Lucrezia. He kissed her gently on the forehead and whispered, "Are you okay, my love?"
Lucrezia nodded before walking down the hallway towards their son's room. Sofia's eyes were fiery with disgust as Arturo tried to explain himself. He smelled of whiskey and desperation, and his hands were rough as he grabbed her arms.
"What's so special about her?" Sofia spat, trying to pull away from him. "You think you can just leave me for that filthy bitch!?"
Arturo's face twisted in anger. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" he roared. His grip tightened, and Sofia winced in pain. "You did nothing for me," he continued, his voice laced with venom. "Just spent my money and nagged at me day and night!"
Sofia's heart ached as she listened to him speak of his love for Lucrezia. She knew he would never look at her the way he looked at that woman. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let go.
"You don't get to tell me who to fucking love," Arturo snarled, his face inches from hers. "You knew I was in love with Lucrezia long before we even got married."
"But you said you love me!" Sofia cried out, the pain in her heart almost too much to bear.
"Arturo glared at Sofia with unbridled fury, pushing her away with disregard. I love you, but I am not in love with you. The only reason we got married is because my father forced us to. I have been miserable for a long time now and I didn't mean to harm you. But I bought your father's stocks and his business and now we don't have to be married anymore. My father is content with this agreement, so let's get a divorce. Now, GET OUT! he shouted. "Just one more thing," He growled, "I will still look after my son."
"I did everything for you to love me, Arturo." Sofia thought. "And this is what you're repaying me?" she balled her fist in anger. She could feel her fingers digging into her palms.
Sofia grabbed her purse, brushed off the dust from her body and marched out to the SUV. As she opened the door, she glanced back at Arturo and said with icy detachment, "My beloved husband, just so you know, I am pregnant with our second child."
"For fuck's sake!" Arturo roared, his anger reverberating in the air. "You knew I wanted no more kids with you!" He had been so careful, but Sofia had tricked him, and now he had two pregnant women in his life. But he was determined to be with Lucrezia and make this right, no matter the cost."
His fists tightened in rage as he thought of what lay ahead. He would make this right, even if it killed him. "This is not what I wanted with you, Sofia. But I will still take responsibility for our second child." He thought.
****
As Arturo stared at his beloved wife, Lucrezia, the wrinkles around his eyes seemed to etch deeper into his face. Thirty-two years ago, when he nervously asked for her hand in marriage, he was happy to discover she was already expecting their second child Enzo. It would be two more years until they welcomed their third child, Dante, into the world. Don Gaetano had been generous enough to grant them his blessing, despite the circumstances. Arturo beamed when he thought of his two sons with his ex-wife, Sofia, Armando, and Marcello. Both boys were full of vitality and ambition. He also had three sons with his second wife, Lucrezia, one around the same age as Marcello. Arturo couldn't help but feel a little wistful, wishing that he had a daughter to join the eclectic mix of characters that made up his family, but he was thankful for the five remarkable sons he had been blessed with.
He and Lucrezia's eldest son, Salvatore, at 34, a Billionaire tech mogul, had been made the new Don of the family. Despite Lucrezia's pleas for him to retire, Arturo wanted to make sure that everything was in place for Salvatore's success. His oldest son, with Sofia, Armando, was a very different story; thirty-two years old and still seething in resentment towards his father for leaving his mother — pain that Arturo could hardly bear to witness. Arturo would often ponder the fate of Sofia after his abrupt departure many years prior. He could get glimpses of his children every once in a while, when the nanny brought them for visitation. As for Sofia, it seemed she had found success in marriage to a wealthy Englishman and the birth of a daughter.
' Arturo was certain that Lucrezia was the love of his life, which is why he ended his marriage with Sofia and pursue his heart's desire. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew that fate had chosen them for one another. There could be no regret in loving her, nor anything that could have prevented him from being with her. They already shared a history together, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her.
The time had come for Don Arturo to pass the title of Don of the Marchetti family to his oldest son, Salvatore. His decision to move the family to New York thirty years ago had been a wise one, and his children could now reap the benefits of a big city. Seated in his office at the Marchetti mansion, he held a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. He called for Salvatore so he could give him control of the family business.
"Salvatore, my son, I have a mission for you. As I have already expected, I will hand the business over to you and your brothers. You may not believe it now, but in another ten years, you will understand how much planning I've done for our family over the years, Salvatore listened intently as his father spoke."
Salvatore knew well that being the Don of the Marchetti family meant holding a great deal of responsibility and gaining many benefits. His father, Don Arturo, knew his son was ready for the task he was about to give upon him: serving as the family assassin. Whatever mission his father gave him, Salvatore completed it beautifully, which is why Don Arturo concluded that making his son the head of the family was the right decision.
"What is it, Father?" Salvatore asked, sitting across from him in an overstuffed black leather chair.
"I have realized some activity within our organization. I don't need to tell you that these activities are not on the up and up. Someone within the family has been taking money that isn't theirs and using it for what I presume to be personal gain. I want you to find out who it is and deal with them accordingly."
Salvatore nodded, fully understanding the gravity of the task.
"I'll get right on it, Father." he said, standing up from his chair.
But before he could leave the room, his father grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.
"Wait, Salvatore. This task is hard. The traitor has been very smart about covering their tracks. I need you to use any means necessary to get the information we need. And I mean any means," his father warned.
Salvatore knew exactly what his father meant. He too had his shortcomings, and he wasn't above using those shortcomings to get what he needed.
"Thank you, Father. I'll make sure this situation is handled correctly," Salvatore said.
With a firm nod, Don Arturo released his grip on Salvatore's arm and watched as his son left the room, a sense of duty and responsibility emanating from him. The task at hand was not only crucial to the family's well-being but also to his own reputation as the leader of the Marchetti family. Salvatore made his way through the dimly lit corridors of the family mansion, his mind racing with ideas on how to uncover the traitor's identity. He knew that brute force could only take him so far; he needed to be smart and careful in his approach.
Salvatore raced back to his office, a fierce urgency propelling him forward. He hastily notified a few of his closest allies and his two brothers, Enzo, and Dante — the former living with Salvatore, while the latter still lived with their parents. Gathered in Salvatore's office, he spoke in an impassioned voice about what had been discussed between him and his father. His men hung onto every word, bracing themselves for the tasks that were at hand.
With grim determination etched on his face, Salvatore outlined his plan to root out the traitor. It was a bold and risky move, but he knew he had to take it. Salvatore's two brothers exchanged a worried look, but said nothing. They trusted Salvatore's judgment, even if it meant putting their lives on the line. Salvatore's plan was to set up a fake money laundering operation, one that would entice the traitor to reveal himself. Salvatore and his team had worked tirelessly to make the operation authentic, creating a paper trail that traced back to the traitor. He knew it was a dangerous plan, but it was the only way to catch the traitor red-handed.
"I need to do this for the sake of my family's company. I need to make my father proud of me. I need to prove that I am worthy of the position he gave me." Salvatore thought. "I'll catch you whoever you are, rat." He said in determination.
The first step of the plan was to leak information about the money laundering operation to trusted sources in the underworld. Salvatore knew that word would eventually reach the traitor, and he would take the bait. Dante and Enzo tasked with posing as the ringleaders of the operation, while Salvatore remained hidden in the shadows, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Days turned into weeks as they waited for a response. Dante and Enzo became antsy, but Salvatore reminded them to be patient. Finally, one night, were sitting in the dimly lit warehouse where they had set up their fake operation when they heard a knock at the door.
Dante froze in his tracks as Salvatore silently urged him to stay back. Salvatore inched closer to the door and peered cautiously through the crack, his eyes widening when he saw Henry Bernstein — one of their own men standing on the other side. This unexpected sight felt like a punch to the gut for Salvatore. It was someone his father once trusted, yet here he was now, betraying them. Salvatore opened the door barely wide enough for Henry to squeeze in before he could understand what was happening, Salvatore had thrown him to the ground. Dante and Enzo dashed forward simultaneously to bind him up.
"What the hell is going on?" Henry cried out in alarm.
Henry roared and thrashed, his fury lashing out against his captors. Salvatore and his men held him fast, an iron grip of retribution. Salvatore's voice was full of rage as he shouted, "Now is your chance to tell me why you have betrayed our father!" His teeth were clenched together as he spoke.
Henry said nothing, his defiance keeping a fire alive despite the shackles pinning him down. Without another word, Salvatore nodded to Enzo, who stepped forward and unleashed a powerful punch into the traitor's gut. Henry crumpled in pain, struggling for breath.
Salvatore leaned in close until their faces were mere inches apart. "Speak or die," he uttered with venomous intent.
The man gasped, clutching at his stomach as he finally muttered a name with hatred.
"Patrick Doyle," he spat, rage burning from within.
Salvatore's blood ran cold at the sound of that name. Patrick Doyle was a powerful man, one of the most feared and respected in the criminal underworld. If he was involved, then things were far worse than Salvatore had feared. But he couldn't let that show. The traitor was watching him closely, waiting for a reaction.
Salvatore forced himself to remain calm. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said coolly. "Enzo, take care of him."
With a vicious grin, Enzo grabbed the traitor by the hair and dragged him out of the room.
Salvatore was left alone with his thoughts. Patrick Doyle was a dangerous man, one who had been his enemy for years. He couldn't take him on alone, but he couldn't let this betrayal go unpunished. He picked up his phone and dialed a number he never thought he would have to call. On the third ring, a rough voice answered.
"What do you want?" the voice grunted.
Salvatore took a deep breath. "I need your help, Dominic. It's about Patrick Doyle."
Silence greeted Salvatore's words. Dominic was a notorious hitman, known for his ruthlessness and efficiency. He was also incredibly expensive and hard to reach, but Salvatore knew he was the only one who could help him take down Doyle.
"Salvatore, are you sure about this?" Dominic finally spoke, his voice laced with caution.
Salvatore spoke decisively. "I'm certain it's true: Doyle has sent someone to infiltrate our organization intending to steal money from us. I need him dealt with."
There was a pause before Dominic spoke again. "Alright. Meet me at the usual place tomorrow night. We'll talk more than."
Salvatore's shoulders slumped, and his heart lightened all at once. He rubbed his hands together with a nervousness that had been slowly building, but the tight knot of dread in his stomach finally loosened as Dominic agreed to help him. His gaze drifted toward the phone, still gripped tightly in his hand, and he wondered what Patrick Doyle's motives were for wanting one of their own men to steal from their family.
****
The next night, Salvatore and his brother Enzo crept through the shadows toward the deserted warehouse on the edge of town. As Salvatore's heart pounded in anticipation, he could feel an ominous force tugging him forward; one that threatened to swallow the air from his lungs. When Salvatore finally stepped into the warehouse, he saw Dominic waiting for them—but standing ominously by his side was a tall, bulky man with a shaven head and a malicious scowl. In an instant, Salvatore sensed danger emanating from this stranger, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
"Salvatore," Dominic said, a hint of warning in his voice.
"This is my friend, Vito. He's agreed to help us with the problem you brought to my attention."
Salvatore nodded, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He had never met Vito before and did not know what he was capable of. Dominic quailed as Salvatore's voice boomed across the room, introducing his brother Enzo. Vito stood silently in the room's corner, an imposing figure that seemed to swallow all the light in the area. When Dominic sensed the tension in Salvatore's posture, he placed a protective hand on his shoulder and spoke with a firmness that could not be mistaken.
"Don't worry. Vito is here now, and he'll make sure everything ends up alright."
Salvatore let out a deep, ragged sigh, feeling the tense chill of dread run down his spine. He knew they were in danger, and that Dominic was their only hope of survival. As he asked himself why Patrick Doyle was after his family, the harsh reality of it all sank in. What did the powerful crime boss have against Salvatore's father? Whatever it was, it had to be something big.
Dominic's voice came out low and menacing as he asked Salvatore, "What information did you get from the traitor?"
Salvatore spat in response, his words boiling with rage. "Nothing much! That Patrick sent him to work for us and then told him to take money from our father's business!" He ground his teeth together, the air full of hatred.
Dominic's eyes narrowed as he processed the information. Patrick Doyle was attempting to weaken his family's business from within. Salvatore's rage was understandable, but they could not afford to lose control in this situation.
"We need to act quickly," Dominic said, his voice calm but firm. "We need to find out more about Patrick Doyle's motives and how he plans to weaken your family. Salvatore, I am going to have Vito look into Patrick's background. I need any background information on the history of your father and Patrick. Why is he coming after your family? Dominic replied."
Salvatore nodded in agreement, his anger subsiding slightly.
"I don't know what Patrick's motives are, but I know he's been cozying up to some of the more powerful families in the city. Maybe he's trying to take over our territory and use our resources for himself," Salvatore suggested.
"Sal," Enzo growled, his fists clenched at his sides. "That could be a strong possibility. We must reach out to Padre immediately before the situation spirals further out of control."
Dominic nodded gravely, his jaw tightening.
"Yes, that's our only option. We have to be strategic in our actions. You guys must never allow him to claim your turf as his own. Trust me, Sal, Vito, and I know how to extract information from any source necessary."
Salvatore nodded in agreement, his mind already racing with potential solutions. "We need to be careful, though," he warned. "Patrick is not someone to be underestimated. He's a shrewd business owner and a cunning adversary. We need to make sure we have all our ducks in a row before we make any moves."
Enzo nodded in agreement. "You're right, Sal. We need to be patient and calculated with our next steps. We can't rush into anything without fully understanding the situation."
Dominic was already thinking ahead.
"I'll use my contacts to gather as much information as possible about Patrick and his movements."
Vito rose to his feet. His voice was low but menacing as he declared they would sort this out, no matter the cost. Without another word, they all stood and walked away, each with a silent promise to reconvene in a few weeks with any developments. Enzo and Salvatore stepped into the menacing black SUV. The engine roared like an untamed beast, vibrating underneath their feet as if it were ready for a fight. Enzo shot Salvatore an icy glance, accompanied by a chill that ran down his spine. Salvatore stared ahead, clutching the door handle tight.
"No, something isn't right here. We need to have a chat with our father about this Patrick Doyle situation."
Enzo nodded slowly, understanding what his brother was insinuating without him saying it out loud; for they were two sides of the same coin, always able to understand each other's thoughts. Armando and Marcello, however, weren't even close to them. As the SUV made its way through the dark and eerie streets of the city, Enzo could feel his heart pumping, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He knew that whatever Salvatore had in mind was going to be dangerous, but he trusted his brother's instincts.
The car skidded to a stop as a figure dressed in shadows ran out of the derelict warehouse. Salvatore leaped from the truck, his hand flying to his holster for his gun. Enzo followed suit and grabbed his own weapon, mimicking Salvatore's movements. As they pushed the door open, a scary scene unfurled before them. A man was bound to a chair, his face covered in blood and crying out in agony. It was Henry Bernstein, the traitor, barely alive.
Salvatore slowly approached Henry, his eyes locked on the man's quivering frame. Enzo followed, his grip tightened around the handle of his gun. As they neared Henry, he lifted his head weakly, his eyes barely open.
"I didn't mean it," he muttered, blood dripping from his lips. Salvatore's jaw clenched as he stopped in front of Henry.
Salvatore leaned in and asked Henry who had done this to him. Henry was struggling to form a response, his words barely audible. Enzo looked around the room for any clues, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of the small, dimly lit space. He noticed a trail of blood leading to a corner of the room and nudged Salvatore's arm, gesturing towards it. Salvatore nodded in response and turned his attention back to Henry.
"Who did this to you, Henry?" Salvatore asked again, his voice low and menacing.
Henry's eyes flickered for a moment before settling on Salvatore's face. "It was...it was one of Patrick's men," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Salvatore's face contorted in anger at the mere mention of Patrick's name. He had been hearing that name a lot lately, and it was getting on his nerves. It was now clear to Salvatore that he needed to send Patrick a message once and for all. The time put an end to this nonsense. Without warning, Salvatore reached down and grabbed Henry's wounded arm, causing him to cry out in pain. Salvatore leaned in close to Henry's face, his eyes blazing with fury.
Salvatore leaned down, his face just inches away from Henry's. He spoke in a low voice, yet his words were full of menace. "You listen to me, Henry," he growled. "I don't care if it was one of Patrick's men or Patrick himself who did this to you. Anyone who crosses me, or my family is going to regret it."
He released Henry's arm and stood up, pointing the gun at him with steady hands. A deafening silence filled the room as Salvatore pulled the trigger, firing a single shot directly into Henry's head. Salvatore watched with a satisfaction as Henry's blood and brains splattered across the warehouse floor.
"Piece of shit," he muttered under his breath as he turned and made his way towards the door.
Salvatore roared, "Enzo!" We need to go now! Whoever brought Henry here knows our whereabouts. Let's not waste another moment and get the hell out of here. We can discuss this in the truck.
Enzo and Salvatore walked out of the warehouse, the shadows of the night giving them cover as they navigated their way to their home. The sound of their car engine roared through deserted streets, and the headlights shone on empty buildings that had witnessed too much violence in their lifetime. Nothing but darkness followed them as they drove home—a darkness that seemed to be intent on swallowing them whole.