7. Over my dead body

My father nodded, his hand shaking as he attempted to take another sip. "Marcos and Sam. Two of my best men."

"And they were protecting you?"

He looked at me cautiously. "Just like they always do."

"Who is responsible?"

Ricardo took his time refilling his drink, visibly disturbed by the attack. "It's believed to be Massimo's men."

I felt compelled to reconsider everything I had learned over the years, things I would rather not remember. This news could have disastrous consequences. "Are you referring to the Massimo family from Italy? You can't be serious."

The Massimo family held significant influence in Italy, much like the Bratvas in Russia. While they were considered extremists who favored traditional methods, they also upheld their sense of honor. Invading America and overthrowing the existing authority was not their style. Killing two of my father's men was either an act of revenge or a prelude to war. Either way, the danger had just escalated. I was furious at the thought, not to mention the disruption the two murders might cause in my life. I discarded the paper and grabbed my drink. I didn't need to read the rest of the details.

Ricardo simply gave me a stern look.

The taste of the expensive scotch suddenly turned bitter. It was my turn to be diplomatic. For my father, this could lead to an all-out war, something Los Angeles couldn't afford. "What are your plans for retaliation, and how does this involve me?"

"The Satoris are also involved."

"Louis Satori?" My father had kept various business aspects hidden from me. My mind wandered to Satori's son, someone who had been in and out of my life since he entered the entertainment industry. I was starting to suspect that a trap had been set. The Satoris were minor players, but their connection to the Italian Borgata was well-known. To maintain peace, my father had granted them a share of the organization, and Louis managed those businesses with an iron fist. The mere two percent that my father received represented a significant amount of money over the years.

My father had anticipated the eventual arrival of the Massimos in America, but the timing raised suspicions.

I could sense a betrayal.

"If the information is accurate, Louis will make his move within the next thirty days. He has gathered a formidable army and substantial cash reserves. The old man surprises me. I never knew he had it in him. The rumors circulating are already affecting my finances, and that will not continue. They will pay." The repugnant expression on his face instilled fear in most of those who worked for him.

"Why are the Satoris disrupting the peace?" After the last turf war, agreements had been made to prevent violence on the streets, including granting Satori some level of power. He was deeply involved in the drug scene, using real estate as a front. Unfortunately, Satori approved shipments into the country.

He moved closer, narrowing his eyes. "Satori is ambitious. I'm willing to bet he's been promised a few things. You know I never trusted that man." A sneer appeared on his face as he provided the answer, as if I should be angry for a different reason. He scrutinized my attire with obvious displeasure. "If you haven't connected the dots yet, his son is someone you've worked with before. A damn jerk."

My thoughts turned to Satori's son. The renowned movie director had never shown any inclination to involve himself in his father's business, much like my own sentiments. Was he scheming? Most likely. "Ernesto Satori. I am well aware of who he is."

"Maybe something I taught you actually sank in."

"Enough of this nonsense, Father. I never forget anything you teach me. What do you want me to do about it?"

Ernesto wasn't a friend, but he held significant influence in Hollywood. He was also the director of my latest project. An arrogant individual with numerous connections. I didn't believe in karma or coincidences. Despite the substantial property damage in our previous collaboration, I had been sought after for the role.

I hadn't given much consideration to the Massimo connection, or perhaps I simply hadn't cared. However, if my father's words were true, the path ahead would be dangerous, requiring difficult choices.

"What I want is for you to stand by my side where you've always belonged. I need your help and your strength. This could become... messy," Ricardo's eyes sparkled with a vengeful gleam. I knew my father well enough to understand that his plans often involved acts of violence. If Satori played a role in the murder of his capos, my father wouldn't hesitate to strike.

He was asking me to be part of his murderous plan. Absolutely not. I wouldn't allow him to shame me into abandoning the life I had fought so hard to build. Not for any reason.

"I refuse to be involved in bloodshed on the streets. This isn't my world, Father. Remember?" I shot him a defiant glare before finishing my drink and slamming the glass onto the expensive marble bar top.

"What I remember is that you made a promise to your mother. What I remember is that you've pushed away your family for years, pretending that your inheritance doesn't exist. What I remember is that my son is weak."

I was accustomed to his insults and cruel words, but I had reached my limit.

"My inheritance?" I stormed toward him, struggling to control the anger that brought back violent memories. I trembled as I approached. "My inheritance to a murderous organization? To a monster?" I waited for a cutting retort.

He simply stared at me with his usual cold, black eyes.

"The promise I made to my mother was to get the hell out of this life, and that's exactly what I'm going to do." I had been a brutal man, inherently violent, following in my father's footsteps. I had blood on my hands, an indelible stain, a stench that lingered in my nostrils. I had made that promise just weeks before her death.

That promise came after witnessing another tragedy, an immoral act orchestrated by my father. I caught a glimpse of the real man, the true monster. And today, I caught that same glimpse.

When he remained silent, I squared my shoulders and headed for the door. I knew what his soldiers thought of me. There was no respect.

Perhaps I was being selfish, but my mother, with her silent determination, had spent years ensuring that I was groomed for a different purpose. The life she envisioned for me was far removed from the shadows that enveloped my father's world.

"You may think you can escape, Victor, but there's nowhere to hide where the truth won't be uncovered. You are my flesh and blood, my son, and one day you'll be required to take the reins."

His words echoed in the dimly lit room, a haunting reminder of the inescapable bonds that tied us. I paused, turning to face him, casting a glance filled with the hatred that had festered over the years. He had nearly destroyed my life once, and I was determined that he wouldn't get the chance to do it again.

"Have a good life, Father," I spat the words, the bitterness in my voice matching the resentment etched on my face.

As I walked away, the weight of his expectations clung to me like a heavy cloak. The air was thick with the tension of an unresolved legacy, and all I could think about was paying for the sins of the father—my father, to be precise.

Over my dead body.