Chapter 4: Family Legacy

Marco

Fitting black suits, fancy ties and a brief case, that’s the signature dress code for the Snakes gang. That way it makes it difficult to tell the leader just by face evaluation. I walk into the pristine mansion with my newly-acquired brief case clueless of its content. Probably a registered rifle.

There's a meeting. 

An urgent meeting. My father has never summoned me to any of his meetings. I never availed myself for anything relating to him and his shady deals.

Being my first time, it’s normal for me to be nervous, but I’m not.

“Hurry, brother. The rest are around,” Andrea says, running up the flight of stairs ahead of me.

My elder brother has been actively involved with the affairs of the gang. Not me. Reluctantly I follow behind. 

“Ahh…there they are,” an old man interjects as I open the double door.

A large feast unfolds before me. Today isn't my birthday. I have no idea what the party is about or why, of all people, my father requested my presence.

The old man hugs me and offers a seat beside him, 

“Welcome son,” he says.

I manage a smile, absolutely uncomfortable with my father's company. The pistols in their pockets only makes it more unnerving, as they form small groups, whispering to one another.

Such meetings could turn into a war between families at the slightest provocation. But everyone seems to be in a light mood.

“Without wasting much of our time, I'll cut to the chase," my father–Igor Sidorov announces, as we all sat at a large conference table. 

"...As we all know. I'm an old man and this business requires a lot of dedication. I would like to announce a successor today. I've kept the person a mystery for a purpose."

I busy myself with the dish in front of me. The only reason I’m here is out of respect for my father. Nothing more.

I’ve been preoccupied with my personal life, since I lost my mother to cancer. A death only I mourned.

 My mother's dying wish to me was never to follow in my father's footsteps.

I have lived up to that for the past twenty four years of my life.

There's murmuring as father announces the sudden enthronement of a successor.

It’s easy to guess who.

 Andrea is the eldest son, an active member of the gang.

He's already beaming with a smile, taking a standing position beside father.

I roll my eyes in disgust.

“We need a young blood. One with strength and enough bravery to carry on the family name. To take hold of more territory in Russia and all over the world,” father continues, holding up a glass of champagne as he speaks.

"There's no other person I'll entrust such position of power and wealth if not my son…” 

I didn’t realize my father’s gaze has been fixed on me all along until a voice calls,

“Marco!”

My cutlery drop in shock, meeting my father’s gaze.

Andrea’s smile soon dissolves into rage.

“That's impossible! Father. I've served you for years.” The rest of the crowd go dead silent as they watch my brother display, “I've been loyal to this family, risking everything…” Andrea rants on, like some child deprived of his rights.

My father, master of retaining composure interrupts him, a wide smile plastered on his face,

"That…I'm aware of, son. Marco would be needing the same support from you. I'm convinced of your loyalty."

"But he's not experienced!" Andrea yells.

“You would accept exactly what I accept, Andrey Sidorov.”

That it is. Andrea has crossed the line right there for father to call out his name in block letters.

“Now, shall we rise for a toast…To Marco.”

Screeching sound of chairs moving against the floor fill the room as they all rise for a toast. Except me.

Their cups click above my head, adding to my disgust. I slam my fist on the table, flipping the table cloth off. A loud clash of ceramics follows and a wild mess of spilled food. 

"Couldn't you at least ask if I accept your offer before making a grand announcement, father?" I say, face-to-face with my father in full height.

There’s a look of disappointment behind those vibrant iris yet he replies softly,

“I make the order. You follow. I need no permission from you, son.” His voice is rather cheerfully, contradicting his expression. "Another reason I chose him. The temper, as you've all seen. He sure got that from me."

I hear a brief chatter behind me, irking me even more. I’m nothing like my father. Nothing.

"I care nothing for your gang. And I won't be a leader to a bunch of murderers!" I say. Hushed mummers follow and an evident displeasure from my father, but I don’t care.

"Please have your seats distinguished gentlemen. Someone please get one of the maids over here. My son and I would have a little chat outside. Excuse us for a moment."

Immediately, some the guards pull me out, my father walking right behind as we approach a different room.

“Where did we stop…” he breaks the air as I’m forced in.

"I refuse to accept the position," I insist, jerking my hands off the men that dragged me.

A smirk forms on my father's face as he takes a seat on a plush leather chair at the corner, twirling a pistol in his finger.

"You see, son. There isn't so much room for choice."

He turns to his guards, 

"Give us a moment."

I adjust my suit, sneering at them as they left.

"I've trained your brother for years, yet I still count you as a worthy candidate, care to know why?"

“I don't fucking care. You lost me the very day mother died in your hands,” I yell back. 

"Your mother's death was a natural cause. I couldn't continue to watch her suffer. I did her a favor," my father says so casually. Every fibre in me boils as the memory plagues me again.

I rush towards my father and snatch the pistol from his hands.

“What's stopping me from killing you right now?”

“You'll only be making my wish come true. Any one who kills a Mafia becomes the leader. Remember the rule, don't you?”

I toss the gun to the floor in frustration. I am not a killer. No matter how much I hate my father, I couldn’t bring myself to kill him. I turn around to take my leave when I hear my father’s voice,

"Walk past that door and forget you ever had a father, Marco."

“It would be my delight, Igor. I never had a father,” I reply without looking back, slamming the door shut behind me.

Andrea follows behind me as I arrive back to my room, ready to pack all my belongings.

“You should have rejected it without a fight. I know you did it for me because I deserved it,” Andrea says as he walks in.

Without uttering a word, I take out my last luggage and zoom out of the mansion. Andrea stops chasing when I abruptly turn around after reaching my car parked outside,

“Goodbye, brother.” Without last words, I zoom off.

“Two shots,” I tell the bartender, raking my hair. I notice the lady speaks some foreign language back.

“Damnit”

A girl approaches the bartender and speaks some language to her. She nods and in no time is out with exactly what I ordered.

"Here you go," she turns to me with the full glass of wine.

I nod, gulping down its content as the consequences of my wild decision gradually begins to settle on me. I never really lived away from my father’s protection. 

"Had a bad day? You seem like one of those foreigners." I turn to find the lady still hovering around me.

Finally, I meet someone who speaks english. I manage a brief smile back to the lady then my phone rings. My father. 

I ignore the call, draining more glass of wine. Anything to distract me from my thoughts.

“Do you know those men. They've been watching you,” she asks.

Immediately I get up from my seat towards the direction she points at.

They don't look familiar.

I look back at the girl but she disappeared.