Page 5 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
Was I ready to see or even touch my parents’ things? To walk down that lane?
I was anything but.
But I was left with no other choice.
***
The few days before this bright Friday morning did nothing to prepare me for this. As I unlocked the metal locker,I realized I still didn’t have the courage to look through my parents’ things, let alone sort them.
My gaze landed on the dust-coated items. I had no idea where to start.
So I picked up the nearest objects, which turned out to be framed photographs. The first one was of me grinning like a Cheshire cat in denim overalls. I didn’t remember anything about the photo, but I couldn’t have been older than six in it. The next one I flipped over made my chest tighten.
It was my dad and mom on their wedding day. In her white lace gown, my mom’s small smile didn’t look as enthusiastic as my dad’s. It certainly didn’t look like the smile of someone who loved her husband so much that she couldn’t do life for more than a few months without him.
Skipping the rest of the photographs, I proceeded to a large, unlidded box. Every single item I brought out of it evoked vivid memories in my mind, from the porcelain ballerina that used to occupy my nightstand to my mom’s leather bags.
When I lifted one of my dad’s jackets and the image of his death flashed before my eyes, I decided I’d had enough.
I opened an old shoebox. It had nothing but papers in it: envelopes, bound documents, receipts and all.
Who knows? There might be something important here.
The second envelope I pulled out gave me pause. It had a golden crest on it. But the insignia on the crest was what sent a strange chill through me. It looked very familiar, but at the same time, I couldn’t remember ever seeing anything like it. There was a small device taped to the outside of the envelope.
What am I supposed to do with this?
On closer inspection, the device resembled the pagers police officers used in old action movies I’d seen.
I pressed the only button below the device. Nothing happened, except for a tiny red light that blinked repeatedly before going off.
Concluding that it was most likely one of my dad’s devices that was now faulty after all these years, I left the device and went on to open the envelope.
I unfolded the paper. It was an ownership certificate of a private holding company in Cyprus.
Sivella Holdings.
I blinked at the name on the dotted lines above the beneficiary section.
Katria Wolfe.
I was the sole beneficiary.
What exactly is this company all about?
Could it be Mafia-related?
I knew my dad was involved with the Mafia, and that was where his tragic end came from. But I had no way of knowing if the unknown company was Mafia-related or not.
Should I ask Marielle?
My best friend’s husband was a Mafia boss. It was a no-brainer that she would recognize a Mafia insignia or crest.
What does this mean for me?
I’d better find my answers when I get home.
I put the certificate back into the envelope and slipped it into my shoulder bag.
