Chapter 44 - Angela

I couldn't believe my mother still held those thoughts about Mancini. He was dead, and she was finally free from his cursed clutches—how could she be thinking of avenging him or keeping my siblings away when Marco and I were all they had left?

"You're not going to let her take us, are you, Angela?" Alessia's frightened voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"No, of course not! I went to that house so you could live with me," I hugged her, looking at Marco over her head.

I hadn't said anything about this to him, but I also hadn't stopped to think if he'd be averse to having my siblings around. He might want to see them gone along with my mother, and if that was his thinking, I wouldn't know what to do—not after everything. Leaving him would hurt too much, and leaving my siblings to their fate was out of the question.

"As your sister said, no one's leaving this house unless they want to. As long as they're here, they'll be part of the Camorra—we're family."

I smiled in relief, staring at him. He'd lifted a weight off my shoulders and made me love him a little more. After everything that happened, I'd imagined he might hate my whole family, including me, but he showed his aversion extended only to my father.

"That's good to hear, but you shouldn't trust Mom," she pulled away, looking me in the eyes. "You saw her yesterday and this morning—she was on Dad's side and wouldn't budge for anything. She's definitely planning some revenge right now."

"I'm sure she's not planning anything, because she knows Dad was broke—no one would fight by her side, and much less offer shelter without getting something in return," I stroked her arm and walked back to where I'd been sitting. "Let's have breakfast—you're going shopping, and Marco's going to see the doctor—while I have a talk with our mother."

Alessia was right about one thing: I shouldn't trust her. Our mother had shown herself more devoted to Giovanni Mancini than to her own children's well-being.

I waited for Nero to arrive, taking Alessia, Enrico, and Melissa with him. Marco went to the doctor and would have business with Frank afterward, so I headed to the room where my mother had spent the night.

We had a long conversation ahead, and I hoped it wouldn't end badly, because I didn't want to have to send her away. Alessia and I could understand her leaving, but it would be hard to explain to Enrico.

"I figured you'd come sooner or later," she said as soon as she opened the door and looked me up and down before stepping aside to let me in.

"We need to talk," I murmured, entering and looking around—the room was very similar to the one I'd stayed in when I first arrived here.

Everything was perfectly tidy; it didn't even look like she'd slept in that bed.

"Yes, we do need to talk," she stopped near the window, and after a long minute staring outside, she finally turned to me. "I can't believe you expect me and your siblings to live here with you. With your father's killer!"

"Marco found a way to love the niece of his rapist and his mother," I went straight to the first topic we needed to discuss—at least here, we could talk about it without exposing Marco's secrets. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed hard. "I think you can find a way to coexist with him without causing any friction."

"How dare you say something like that? Tarnishing our family's name?"

She could pretend to be outraged well, but she couldn't fool me—not after what I'd seen yesterday.

"We both know it's not my words that tarnished this family's name. The Mancinis earned every bit of disgrace and ruin," I bellowed, taking a step forward and raising my eyebrow at her. "How could you tell me all those horrible and false things about Marco before the wedding, trying to scare me, when the real monsters were you, covering up and burying with honors a worm who violated a child?"

My mother twisted her fingers in nervousness and let her shoulders slump forward, hunching even closer to the window.

"Times were different, daughter. We were at war all the time—people did horrible things every moment," she looked at me as if asking for forgiveness. "Your uncle wasn't a bad man; he was just a mafia man trying to hit another."

"A child! Marco was just a child—believe me, Mom, there were countless ways to hit Marco's father, but he chose the worst of all!" I shouted, unleashing all my outrage after finally seeing her admit the truth about her family.

"Don't think any of us were proud of it, but he had to be buried with Cosa Nostra honors or have his name erased from our history forever."

"You should have erased him. I grew up believing he was a good man, a kind and fun person, when the truth was completely the opposite," I wiped a solitary tear that slid down my face, remembering the pain in Marco's words as he told me. "And to think I even doubted him—I disbelieved when Marco told me what happened that night."

She approached quickly and held my hands firmly; her eyes were stunned, but there was no trace of regret or shame for what they'd done.

"Everyone in the mafia has their share of wickedness—everyone has blood on their hands. Don't believe for a moment that there are innocent people in our world; that was a folly we let you and your siblings believe. But if you look closely, even you have blood on your hands," the words were accusatory, as if she wanted to attack me with them. "The sweet and innocent Angela married a mafioso and learned to kill and torture. I've heard the stories—I saw you holding a gun yesterday."

I might have been intimidated by everything she said if it hadn't been my choice to become a killer. She didn't know, but I'd chosen for the first time to see what was inside me and accepted my nature.

"Marco gave me a choice—to keep me oblivious and away from this world or become someone like him. It was my choice."

"And who guarantees it really was your choice?" she countered, questioning me and squeezing my hands even tighter. "How do you know he didn't get into your mind and manipulate you to become exactly what he wanted? Turning against your father, helping him destroy our family."

"He didn't do that..."

"Falcone kidnapped you on your wedding day—he brought you into his world and kept you here while whispering things in your ear and treating you well so you'd trust him!" My mother shouted, interrupting me. "How do you not see this isn't love but Stockholm syndrome?"

My breath hit her face unevenly as my mind raced, processing every word that had come out of her mouth.

No, it couldn't be. I loved him—this wasn't a syndrome from being kidnapped; I had the chance to escape and chose to stay with him. I wanted Marco and the life by his side, where I could make my own choices.

"You're wrong. I love him, and he loves me."

"No, daughter—he never loved you. Men like him are incapable of love, men consumed by power and wickedness. He's the Demon of the Camorra, and he didn't earn that title for nothing," she shoved something into my hands while shaking my arms hard, leaving me disoriented and dizzy. "Kill him and take all his power."

"What..." I staggered back, pulling away from her, managing a glimpse of the vial in my hands.

"Use the poison in his food, Angela. End this prison you're in and gain your freedom—you can finally make decisions. Do it tonight, and we can flee with their money. By the time they discover what happened, we'll be far away!"

"You've completely lost your mind, Mom! If you keep this up, I'll have to send you away, even though I hate the idea."

She shook her head in denial and walked to the door, opening it quickly and looking at me with a determination I'd never seen in her eyes. She seemed certain of what she was declaring to the four winds while causing chaos inside me.

"Go to him and ask if he'd let you go—ask if he loves you enough to do that. Ask and get your answer! You'll discover he only took you from home and turned you against us out of hatred for your father!"

"You're wrong! You just don't understand how he can love me when Giovanni never loved anyone but himself, but Marco isn't like my father," I went to her and shoved the vial into her hands, trying to make her take it. "I'd never kill him!"

"Keep it, child—you might need it more than you think."

Without giving me a chance to respond, she pushed me and closed the door, leaving me in the hallway holding the vial of poison I didn't know about and never imagined she'd carry with her.

I turned in the hallway and went down the stairs, appalled by her words still swirling in my mind like a cyclone of destruction, shaking my certainties and leaving me vulnerable when I needed it least.

I hadn't imagined she still had that power over me, or I wouldn't have gone there alone. At least I had the poison in my hands—that would stop her from using it on anyone in the house.

"We're going to take over Cosa Nostra territory now—they're scattered, without a leader to follow, and vulnerable!" I heard Marco say as soon as I reached the office door.

I placed my hand on the doorknob and opened it, wanting to find out who he was talking to about that and why he hadn't called me.

"What's going on here?" I questioned, seeing Frank, the Russian, and Marco turn to face me. "I thought your meeting was just with Frank. Why wasn't I informed you'd be discussing the next steps for the Camorra?"

Marco flashed a smile and extended a hand toward me, like an invitation to get closer, but I limited myself to approaching the table, where I could face all three up close.

"We were just talking about Nero's engagement announcement when the topic of Cosa Nostra territories came up—it's not a meeting," he clarified, at least the last part.

"Nero's engagement?" I looked deeply into his eyes before turning to Frank, wanting to know if it was a joke or not. "Since when is Nero engaged? I didn't even know he was dating anyone."

"And he's not, but now that we've allied with the Russians, we have to seal the alliance with a marriage," he nodded toward the man in front of us. "Nero will marry Vladimir's sister in two weeks."