Page 4 of Ludovico's Vengeance

“Giovanni, what are you doing here?” He snarls at me from his place on the metal chair.

Laughter erupts from deep within my chest. He can’t be serious. Oh, this is going to be fun.

“It’s been a while, Gramps.” I reply with a sharpness in my tone as I approach the chair he’s seated on. He’s too old and from the looks of it, far too fragile to try to get out of his restraints, but based on the hatred in his eyes, he wants to. Oh, does he want to. “I haven’t been Giovanni for quite some time, but now that I’m home, maybe he’ll have to come out to play and see how much he remembers from your training. After all, the first-time I had been in this very room was the night I found you attacking a man with a bag over his head in this same chair. You made me help you eliminate him when you caught me.”

Frederico’s eyes go even wider than before. His body begins to shudder as the shock of my memory returning really seeps into his core.

“Do you remember that? The way the metal scraped against the cement floor? His muffled cries from the gag you had in his mouth? I didn’t, not until last night.” I stifle back a laugh, “after Mrs. De Luca’s cinnamon bun, of all things, triggered the memory.”

Milo and Michael are still behind me. Neither of them knows. Michael had been assigned to my mother who was away that night for a charity function. Milo and I hadn’t met then, I was only a child.

“I guess it makes sense, since it was her husband who was here, helping you. That is, until you forced me to take a knife to my own father's throat.” I shoot the words at him like poison. “When you removed the bag and showed me the identity of who I helped you kill, you told me that I was just having a bad dream. Dad had gone out with my mother that night. You even cleaned me up and tucked me in.”

My shoulders release tension I didn’t realize I’ve been carrying for so long. Michael lunges for Frederico, but doesn’t get far. Milo inserts himself between the two men and nods at me with a knowing look in his eyes.

“See, I had believed you for so long. Fuck, I thought that I wanted to be you for Christ's sake. The moment I saw you with Lucia though. That was simultaneously the best and worst day of my life. I lost so much time with people I love because I couldn’t bear to see either of your faces.” I pause briefly to take a breath as my explanation marinates in his thick skull. “It wasn’t until I was taking notes in a Tort class while I was enrolled in law school that it dawned on me. You were jealous that I showed more promise as a leader than you ever have. Your men respected me back then, even more than they respected you. If it weren’t for my mother asking me to let you live because you were still her father, this would have happened fifteen God damn years ago.”

I shove my hand into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the handle of my knife. No words are exchanged in the seconds it takes for me to remove the knife from my pants. I press the button to eject the blade from its cover and swiftly slit through my grandfather’s throat, just like he had me do to my father all those years ago.

“Jesus fuck.” Milo says as the blood flows quickly, pooling at Frederico’s feet which just so happen to be right by the drain we use to remove evidence.

I step close enough to tear open the shirt of my now deceased grandfather and carve the calling card the Esposito family uses in this situation. The body may be being placed into a car with an explosive device, but we take precautions. You never know what could happen. With a steady hand, I carve a perfect “E” into the chest followed by an S made of straight lines at a slant. How their men do this on skin when you have to pass over already sliced skin is beyond me. It takes more talent and patience than I’ll ever have.

The past seventy-two hours have been a revolving door of heads from the different local families visiting with offers of condolences, prayers, and paying their respects. While I understand and respect that part of this life, fuck, I just want to forget about the old man. A loud groan barrels its way from my throat when another knock sounds on the door to what is now my study.

“What?” I ground out as I sift through records from the time I was gone.

A soft creek echoes through the room as Mrs. De Luca steps in with a glass of water and a plate of grilled chicken over a bed of lettuce. I can’t help but grin when I see her. She’s not spoken to me much since everything came back to me, so it surprises me when she doesn’t move to leave right away.

“My sweet boy.” She says softly, “Thank you. My Anthony felt so guilty after, he didn’t know what Frederico had planned until it was too late. He confided in me when he came home after it was done. Anthony planned to resign, but he never returned the day he intended to ask to be relieved of duty.”

Her shoulders sag as she shares her story. I stand from behind my desk and close the distance between the two of us. My arms fold around her in a tight embrace as she quietly sobs into my sternum. Her signature cinnamon and vanilla scent invades my lungs before she pulls away, pats my chest, and walks out without another word shared between us.

A few moments after I’ve finished my lunch from Mrs. D, a quick succession of knocks in the beat ofAnother One Bites The Dustsounds against the large barrier. I can’t help but chuckle.

“Come in, Milo.” My shoulders shake with laughter at his antics. He may be in a higher position of power now as my right hand alongside Michael, but he’s still the same kid I met all those years ago. Some things will never change.

Milo pushes open the door with a cheesy smile on his face as if he owns the place. Once he steps through the door, he clears his throat.

“Mateo Barone is here to see you.” He steps to the drink cart and pours himself a glass of bourbon. “He says it’s to express his sympathy for the family, but something feels off.” Milo’s statement piques my interest.

I drag my hand through my short beard and glance at my friend. I give a quick nod toward the door, Milo turns back to fetch my guest. While I’m waiting for them to return, my attention is drawn to a stack of papers on my desk. Something sticks out like a sore fucking thumb. I hear Milo and Mr. Barone enter before I have a chance to dig in any further. My eyes raise to find an older man with a very large frame, his hair is cropped short at the sides, a little longer on top. However, his temples have gone completely grey.

“Mr. Barone,” I ask as I gesture for him to take a seat at the chair in front of my desk, which he does while Milo stands at the doorway with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “How may I help you?”

The older man sits with an expression I can’t quite pinpoint. He has more of a street look to him than most of the men who we associate with. Instead of the suit and tie I’ve become accustomed to seeing over the years, he’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. Don’t get me wrong, casual clothes are great, but not in this environment. I cock a brow at him when he doesn’t speak, which must get the point across that I won’t break first.

“Giovanni,” he begins.

I hold my hand in the air to stop him.

“It’s Mr. Ludovico to you, we aren’t friends, sir.” I reply coldly.

Mr. Barone’s lip curls as if he’s holding back an insult or two. Good, I’m under his skin.

“Mr. Ludovico,” He begins again, “I wanted to pay my respects to you and offer my sincerest condolences to you and your family.”

I nod in response. Milo is right, there is something off about this one. He’s here for more than what he claims. When I don’t verbally acknowledge his statement, he continues.

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