Emmanuelle
News came that Leighton was responsive and that his emergency surgery went well. Sadly, it was followed by news from Tia's doctor that her health was rapidly declining. He warned us that based on her test results she would have, maybe, a few months left. In his words, it could be less.
As much as this was just another jab at my heart, I realized that her passing would be far better than remaining in the vegetative state that she was in. Her heart was kept beating by the machines and solid food did no longer have a place in her stomach.
Dom was still in school when we returned home. I was just out of my hot shower and brushing my teeth. It was much needed after the visit. Marissa must have been somewhere in the house and Anthony had stepped out to do God knows what. He was planning on soon leaving for New York. When I came back into the room, I was immediately startled by the unexpected presence of another person, sitting on my bed.
"Dimitri,"
He rose to his feet when I said his name. Like a magnet, he pulled me towards him. Halfway to him he stepped back and moved away from me. "Are you mad at me?" The question fell from my lips out of guilt from the last phone call.
He dragged his tired eyes to meet mine. They studied my face, and then returned to the ground. His shoulders hung low, and he looked stripped of all energy. His whole behavior was different.
"Please, don't." He stopped me from taking another step towards him, when I wanted to. He held up his hand, redirecting my attention to the picture of my mother, pressed in between two of his two fingers. It was the same picture I had last seen Anthony hold.
"Esmeralda Artist." He announced her name in a shattered voice. "Born in North Carolina, moved to Miami at the age of eighteen and worked in a local restaurant called Shashi."
Everything he recited like a robot was true, which scared me, because I had never spoken about her to anyone. Anthony never clarified what he was looking for, but whatever he found, it was reason enough for Dimitri to distance himself from me.
"Three years later she moved here. Unemployed. And pregnant with you. No mention of your father, whatsoever."
The ticking in my chest began to take speed.
"I should've figured this out sooner." He was calm, but I knew he was freaking out as much as I was. "It was right in front of me. His fucking will! Giving you so much of the company. Fuck!" He let out a frustrated scream. "How could I've been so damn blinded. He always went to that damn restaurant. My mother knew. She always believed he had someone there." He palmed the sides of his head.
For the first time since we were together, I was frightened by him.
"He must've moved her here when she got pregnant with you."
My brain denied comprehending what he was saying, yet my feelings were triggered.
"You're wrong." I argued.
He shook his head, still clamped between his hands. "No, I'm not, Emmanuelle. My father gave your mother money on a montly basis to care for you. There's evidence of them being together." He gulped, "Of him with you— when you were a baby."
I held my heart, and my mind immediately went to my son. Was he a product of incest? Did I have a child with my brother? "I had Dom with Marco." I became unstable on my feet and crashed against the wall with my back, "My brother?"
Dimitri dropped his hands. His eyebrows dipped down to his nose, but he remained still. "No," he swallowed. "No, he's— he's not. You're not related to Marco. You can't be."
"What?" Confusion kept me from spiraling any further. "He's your brother, if we're related then—"
"He's, my cousin." He corrected me. "Both, him and Marissa are my cousins on my mother's side. My parents took them in and legally changed their surname. As far as I'm aware my father has or had, two sons: Rafael and me. And possibly, a daughter. You."
"Do they know this?"
"They do. Always have."
"I have to sit down." I plunged onto the ottoman.
"We need to take a DNA test."
"And if comes back positive?" I pushed my hair behind my ear, sniffing to stop my nose from running.
His jaw tightened. "I might not be around for the results."
"Yeah. I'm all caught up." I threw my head back and faced the ceiling. "Anthony filled me in on the details."
"Then at least the two of you know my whole story." He forced a smile. "I love—"
"Mattia, we need to leave."
He spoke at the same time as Emillio.
Our eyes went to the door and then back to each other.
He stepped towards me, and bent forward, placing his lips on top of my head. "I love you." He whispered, then I watched him walk out of the door, for what felt like the last time.
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Mattia
This was it; I was about to come face to face with The Alliance and pay for my crimes, starting with the crimes I inherited from my father. Emillio knew as well as I did, that there was no coming back from this. I wiped my face and fixed my look. They were about to take my life; I was not going to give them the satisfaction of it by breaking or begging.
We drove back to the warehouse. Two black Subaru SUVs were parked in front of the building, awaiting us. As soon as I was spotted a man existed the back door of the first car and held it open for me to get in. I had Emillio on my right and Christoph on my left, but they were not coming with me.
I followed the guy's nonverbal order and got in. He got in next to me and I was sandwiched between him and another on my other side. In front there were two others. We raced off before the door was properly closed. The driver took the less busy roads and avoided any main ones. I was surprised that I did not get a bag over my head and my hands tied, mouth gagged or taped.
We drove into a gated community, located a few small towns over. It was about an hour's drive. I expected an abandoned building, something that would shake me to my core. Instead, the car stopped in front of a house not much bigger than my own. The driver flashed his badge at the camera, and the massive gate opened, revealing the Spanish architecture. Its traits of the colonial style were absolutely breath-taking; one of my favorites. A small distraction from the death that awaited me.
No one spoke a word to me. The driver stayed behind the wheel, while the guy to my left got out and instructed me to follow him. At the door, two other men, carrying heavy firearms, had their gazes fixed on me. We went all the way to one of the back rooms. Three knocks on one of the random doors in the long hall that we stopped at, and it was pulled opened from the inside. The interior was dark. Large brown wooden vases in the corners, a coffee station with an antique pot near the table and bloody-red curtains covered two whole walls.
A round table was the centerpiece of the room. Dark, leather chairs surrounded it; six in total. All chairs except one were occupied. The only person I recognized was the man I had an alternation with. I had never met any of the other men before in my life. They were sharply dressed, like old-timers in a gangster movie. Their attitude matched their attire. Even in my thousand-dollar suit, I felt under-dressed.
"Mattia Mulaney," I looked around the bunch until I found the person whom the raspy voice belonged to. It was an older man, looked to be in his sixties. He wore his white hair in a neat ponytail and sported an equally white beard. He swallowed visibly. "You've assaulted an official member and taken the life of another." He said with directness, skipping any nonsense-talk.
I painfully pressed my teeth together.
"Yet, you have the balls to ask for this meeting." He leaned to the side, placed a thick cigar between his teeth and lit it. "You have some nerve, kid. Sit down." He blew out the smoke in the direction of the one empty chair.
I sat down.
"Gentlemen. How about we properly introduce ourselves, since Mr. Mulaney here doesn't seem to know just who he's dealing with." No one looked my way. But the chuckle that went around the room had my skin pricking.
"I'm aware of what the organization stands for." I boldly replied.
The room quickly turned quiet again. The cigar guy never broke the hard stare and I felt uncomfortable by it. "Failure to meet the last payment. $8.975.000, -. That's your total."
"Will be taken care of this week." I spared them the explanation of why I missed the last payment. Besides, they were all well aware of what happened at the warehouse. They just did not care.
"I'm curious. How much are you worth, Mr. Mulaney?" A few eyes now settled on me.
"$8.975.000, - as of right now."
He looked amused, "So, after this payment. You'd be completely broke?" He pressed his fist against his left cheek.
"Correct." I agreed.
He sat up straight, his eyes connected with those of another man sitting to his far right. This one was much younger, quiet and observant. With the grey vest and fedora hat in the same color, that he had on, he resembled a mobster that jumped straight out of the 60's. He barely looked around and mostly focused on the iPad in front of him.
"That true, Thomas?" His grin made it clear that he already knew the answer to the question.
"3.2 billion. According to Mr. Mulaney's accountant. Listing of properties and vehicles included. Nominal value of any possible stock that Mr. Mulaney may own was not included in this sheet." Thomas, the young-one, stated.
Fweeeet— The older one whistled. "Well, isn't that something?" The bunch began shifting in their seats. A few looks were thrown my way, here and there. "Major shift, that is. How come?"
"I figured that it'd would be best to arrange my finances before my sudden death."
The men smiled. Except for the youngling, he merely looked up once more.
"It seems you're ready for your time to come."
"I don't have much of a choice then to make peace with it. Out there I'm a wanted man or will be once it makes the news. And frankly, I'd rather choose death than to be on the run. That's why I'm here."
"And what exactly happened to the billions?"
I took a breather, calculating the risk of confessing that I had gifted everything I owned, away and to whom. "Generous donation." I withheld the truth.
"Hhmm. Have you asked yourself why there isn't anything on the news?" Someone else from the bunch intervened.
"Because you're planning on executing me. Seems logical."
I earned myself a deep chuckle in response. "You know, that was the original plan. Then we studied you. Your gross income, the business deals, the products you handled for us." The first man mentioned. "Everything was a positive. Plus," he pointed at me. "Your life revolves around secrets."
"What are you getting at?"
"An eye for an eye. You have taken the life of your brother, one of our members. Now, you're in his seat. Consider yourself his replacement. His deals are now yours. His loans are now yours. His success is now yours. We do hope, however, that your knowledge and logical sense will be on a higher level than his was." He pulled at the cigar, releasing a cloud of smoke right after.
I completely froze. Rafael's replacement?
"I'm—"
"You don't get much of a choice." He harshly stated. They were inconsiderate of my Say in this. "Just like your brother didn't have one when you gunned him down. You'll abide by our rules and dedicate your entire existence to this organization. And don't worry Mr. Mulaney, we trust that your income will soon return to the normal numbers."
"As for your family," number three put his hand up to the group, silencing their whispers. "Our strategy of— dealing with the very public crime you've committed, makes it almost mandatory that your family believes that you've vanished from the face of the earth. There's already a case of the warehouse and this one will be added. That we can't prevent. We will, however, let it die down. It'll help if they believe that— you are no longer with us."
"We need you to lay low for a while and then fake your death." Number one repeated after him, in simpler words. "I take it lying won't be a problem for you."
"Another thing, we are aware of whom you've generously donated all of your belongings to."
"We know everything and more. Don't forget that, because lying won't be tolerated."
They spoke in turns.
"And the safety of my family?" I questioned the most important thing.
"Will be guaranteed." The first one continued our conversation.
"As long as I never see them again." The realization sunk in.
"Let's see how well you perform and how fast this whole thing dies down, then we could think of having that conversation again."
"And the second option?"
His teeth were put on display. "What you came here for." He pointed his finger to the window. My eyes followed the direction and landed on an execution going on outside. Two guys on their knees with black bags over their heads and their hands tied in the front.
Bang...
Bang...
Both fell faced down.
"No worries about the sound." He waved his hand. "We own this town. So, what will it be?"
To die or stay alive, without living?
"I'm not changing my style."
He nodded, "Gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Mulaney to the family." He took another puff from the cigar, blowing the smoke to the ceiling.
The family.... one more fucked-up than the one I was born into.