The Italian

I sit in the foyer of the hospital and stare at a spot on the carpet. The carpet is new—recently laid. Why has it been replaced? Did someone tear it up in a grief-fueled rage?

I wouldn’t blame them if they did.

I’m waiting for my family—my mother, grandmother and Francesca—to arrive.

It should be any moment now. It’ a six-hour car trip. If I’d have known how this was going to turn out I would have suggested they fly.

In hindsight, it’s for the best. I wouldn’t have wanted them to see what I have today.

Even as a policeman, where death is all around, nothing could have prepared me for this. Nobody should have to see their loved ones on their deathbeds. It’s a cruel reality that’s better off left alone.

I glance at my watch for the tenth time this hour. I didn’t want to tell them over the phone that our whole world just came crashing down.

How could I?

So, I’ll wait here, to tell them in person.

I look around the lounge area, to the few men who have stayed behind to wait for my mother, and I wonder what their role is.

Did mother know?

Did she know what her husband and father-in-law were capable of?

My stomach twists. What were they capable of?

It doesn’t make sense, any of this. Criminal families bring their children up in the midst of it. They teach their children the ropes—prepare them for the life they will lead.

I didn’t know.

I think back to when my father pushed me into the police force. His words come back to me.

You need this life experience, Enrico, trust me. One day, you will need it.

Did he know? Of course, he knew.

I think of the money, the real estate, the lifestyle, and the special treatment everywhere my family go, and I clench my jaw. How the fuck did I not see this? Why didn’t it ever occur to me that this was my family’s history?

A few times through my life I’d heard rumblings. I once asked my father if the stories were true, too. He told me that most people are jealous of success, and that of course it would be rumored that they were criminals.

Jealousy was the root of all evil, he told me, and I believed him.

Maybe it’s not true. Maybe this is all a big mistake.

I glance at my watch again. Where are they?

The door opens with a flurry of activity, and I stand and watch as they run in.

“Rico!” my mother cries. “Are they all right?”

I make eye contact with Roberto, my mother’s driver, and he drops his head.

He already knows. He isn’t a driver at all. He’s a bodyguard.

The three of them look up at me, their faces filled with hope, and my eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Mother’s face falls.

“They didn’t make it, Mamma.”

“No. Stefano?” my grandmother cries.

I shake my head as my face twists in pain.

“Nooooo!” my grandmother cries out. Her step falters, and she stumbles in shock.

Francesca grabs the wall for support as men come in from around me to hold up the girls as they each fall apart.

This is why the men stayed. They knew I couldn’t do this alone.

“No, Enrico, no,” Mother wails as I hold her in my arms. Her shoulders shake, and I can hardly hold her up. “Tell me it’s not true. It’s not true! It can’t be true.”

To the sounds of sobbing, my gaze falls to the carpet once more, and I wish I was anywhere but here. My beautiful family has fallen apart.

It’s a dark day.

The darkest.

I stare into space as I sip my amaretto. It’s dark outside, and my apartment is quiet.

This afternoon, we went to the morgue to give a formal identification. After that, the doctor had to sedate my grandmother and mother. They completely lost it.

Francesca is lying down, and my brothers are on their way. I’m sitting here with no idea what to do. Lorenzo, my father’s best friend, is in the apartment, quietly trying to help. How can he? This is irreparable.

Men are out on the street, subtly surrounding the apartment, and I know we are now under guard. From what, I don’t know.

The door buzzes. I go to the intercom and see a familiar face. It’s Mario, the family solicitor. We know him well. He attends all our family events. He’s been around for years and years. I open the door and wait until he comes into view.

“Rico,” he whispers sadly. We hug and cling to each other for an extended time. His presence is only adding to our reality.

“Please come in.” I step back, and he walks past me into the apartment before turning to me.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Yes.”

“Upstairs.”

I frown. “I can’t leave the girls.”

“They’re safe. The place is surrounded.”

I stare at him, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. Safe from what?

“There are papers in the offices upstairs that I need to show you. Where is Lorenzo?”

“He’s here.”

“You will need him.”

Our eyes are locked. Why will I need him?

Lorenzo comes into view. He’s openly weeping with tears are running down his face. He grabs Mario in an embrace.

“We need to talk to Enrico,” Mario whispers as he holds his friend.

Lorenzo’s eyes find mine. “Yes, yes, I know.”

I follow them upstairs to the top floor to my grandfather’s apartment. I don’t know what’s going on here, but everyone else seems to. I can’t focus, I can’t feel… I’m numb.

I’m too confused to articulate a single thought.

Blinding anger is all that I can see.

Lorenzo opens the door with his own key and we follow him in. My heart constricts as I look around. This place is so Stefano. He loved it here.

With my chest in my throat, I follow Mario to the office at the end of the hall.

“Please, take a seat,” he says.

I sit down at the large mahogany desk. Lorenzo sits beside me, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. His tears won’t stop.

Mario begins opening locked filing cabinets with his keys, taking out large folders and putting them onto the desk in front of me. I watch him for ten minutes. He eventually sits down opposite me.

He falls silent as he stares at me, and after a while he sighs. “My deepest condolences, Rico. My heart is breaking today.”

I exhale heavily as emotion threatens to take over.

“It is with deepest regret that I’m here, but I have strict instructions in the event of this happening. You have been kept out of the family business on purpose.”

I glance over to Lorenzo. “Why?” I ask.

“Your father wanted you to have a carefree childhood.” He pauses. “He knew that, in the event of their deaths, you would find out everything you needed to. He had faith that you would have the knowledge you needed and would know what to do. Although it doesn’t seem like it, he has prepared you over the years. He thought ahead.”

I frown in confusion.

Mario opens a large leather box that has a folder inside. “As the oldest Ferrara son, I must advise you that, as of this moment, all the family business now lies in your hands. You are the sole owner of Ferrara enterprises.” He begins to read. “Ferrara Sports Cars, valued at nine billion euro The Flamingo Bell Football League side, and the four football stadiums. Seventy million euro worth of real estate.” He slides his finger over the list of assets as he reads them out. “Five hundred and twenty-two high class brothels. Seventy-two VIP strip clubs.”

What the fuck?

My phone beeps, and I turn it over thinking it may be my mother. A picture of a clifftop view over the ocean comes to life on the screen, alongside a text.

Arrived safely.

Wish you were here.

Olivia.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling like I’m about to explode. “Carry on.”

“Nine casinos worldwide, valued at an estimated fourteen billion euro.”

I stare at him as he reads through the list. The room begins to spin.

“Four thousand staff and another eleven hundred personal staff.”

“Personal staff?”

Mario looks up over his glasses and closes the book. He clasps his hands in front of him. “You’re not a stupid man, Enrico.”

I clench my jaw.

“Not all of the Ferrara businesses are reputable.” He pauses. “But it has been vital to keep these parts of the business going in order to support the legitimate businesses. Your grandfather was a shrewd businessman. The generations before him, however, were not. It was those businesses, though, that gave Stefano the funds needed to build an empire.”

“Drugs?”

His eyes hold mine. “Among other things. You will be briefed on that side of the business.”

I drop my head in shame, and Lorenzo puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right, son,” he whispers.

“You will need to resign from the police force immediately to begin your training,” Mario says.

“Fuck you. I’ll do nothing of the sort.” I make to stand, and Lorenzo pushes me back down into my seat.

A trace of a smile crosses Mario’s face. “Your father always said that you will be the best leader the family has ever had. He pushed you to be a policeman to learn how the other side of the law works.”

I stare at him, completely lost. “Why?”

“So that you would have an edge over everyone else.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

He smiles sadly. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, son. There are a lot of people who want to take your throne. We have had word that your father’s bodyguards are missing.”

I sit up. “You mean?’

“Our men don’t go missing unless they’re dead. This wasn’t an accident, Rico.”

Anger begins to surge through my blood.

“We think we know,” Lorenzo says, “and we’re waiting for confirmation.”

My eyes flick between the two of them. “Who did this?” I demand.

“Rico,” Mario says as he holds my gaze. “At this point, you have two options. You take the reins, or you prepare to die. Your skin is the next one they will want as a trophy.”

I stare at him.

“Take over the empire… or you and your family—your mother, grandmother, and sister—will no doubt be murdered in cold blood. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Fuck you. I will do nothing of the sort,” I hiss angrily.

He narrows his eyes. “So, you’ll leave it to Andrea then. Or perhaps Matteo?”

I stare at him as my mind goes to my two gentle brothers.

“Your family assets need to be protected, Enrico. Andrea can’t do this job. He isn’t strong enough. We both know that, and Matteo is too young.”

“Does she know?”

“Your mother?” Lorenzo asks. I nod. “No, and she never will. Unless you don’t do the right thing and she wakes up one day with a bag over her head or in the trunk of a car. Or perhaps she’ll be mourning the death of Francesca, instead,” he says sadly.

My stomach twists.

“How will it feel to have that on your conscience, Enrico?” Mario says. “The family needs your strength now. Our men need your strength,” Lorenzo pleads.

“Shut up,” I whisper. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You will not be alone. We have men to train you. Your staff are loyal. They loved your father. We will look after you. We are your family. Your grief is our grief,” Mario says.

“We?”

“I am a part of the business, Enrico. It’s not all bad, and you will be surprised who Stefano has on his payroll.”

“Get out,” I sneer.

He stands and puts his hand on my shoulder. “In time, you will come to appreciate the choices your family before you have made. You are very fortunate to be a Ferrara.”

I stare straight ahead, unable to make eye contact with him.

“Suck it up. You have funerals to arrange. Do your fathers proud.” Mario stands, leaves, and the door closes quietly behind him.

My breath quivers on the inhale as I try to control my breathing.

Lorenzo pulls me into an embrace and holds me while tears of rage run down my cheeks.

My entire life has been a lie.