26. Marcello

Marcello

W ith a deep breath, I gather the courage to tell her the truth, knowing that it could change everything between us. "It's always been you," I whisper, my eyes locked onto hers.

She pulls away slightly, her arms pushing at my shoulders as if trying to create a physical distance between us. "What do you mean?" Her voice is laced with confusion and a hint of vulnerability. "How is that possible?"

I take a step back, giving her the space she needs. "I've only ever loved one woman—you."

Her eyebrows furrow in disbelief. "You don't have to lie to me, Marcello," she says softly, almost pleadingly.

"I'm not lying," I assure her. "Not about this." My heart races as I prepare to reveal something I have kept hidden for too long. "I fell in love with you ten years ago."

"Ten years ago..." Her voice trails off as she tries to make sense of my words. "But... how?"

"It was at one of your father's banquets. You were in the garden, trying to sneak in through the back gate." The memory is crystal clear in my mind, like it happened just yesterday. "I knew then that I wanted to marry you."

A look of confusion crosses her features again. "We've never met before," she insists.

"We did meet," I reply gently. "Just outside your house." And with that, I proceed to recount every detail of the encounter that has stayed with me all these years. The moment she had captured my heart completely and irrevocably—whether she had known it or not.

Since that day, I have been hers without hesitation or question.

AGE TWENTY-ONE

Agony rips through my insides, a searing pain that threatens to consume me. My hand is desperately clutching at the wound on my abdomen, trying to stem the flow of blood. I know I won't die from this injury, but that doesn't make it any less excruciating.

I keep my head low as I trudge forward, the hood pulled over my face providing some relief from the relentless beating of father's fists.

Do I even look human anymore?

My eyes are swollen shut, one eyelid completely busted and useless. The other is barely functional, allowing only a sliver of vision through the swelling. My cheek throbs with each step, likely fractured from the repeated blows. And as for my nose...well, it probably won't ever be the same again.

But the knife wound is what catches me off guard. It's a new level of punishment from father, one that I didn't see coming. I guess I went too far this time.

Farther than I ever have before.

I had stood up to him, refused to go along with his weekly visits to brothels and engage in his depraved activities. Why should I lower myself like that? All because he is my father? No, I needed to get my life together if I ever wanted to be worthy of Catalina.

Rocco was well aware of my father's illicit activities, and by association, mine. This meant he would never agree to give me his daughter's hand in marriage. Among made men, there was one thing that was strictly forbidden: frequenting bordellos. Of course, this wouldn't matter to my father, but for any other self-respecting capo, it would be disgraceful to have his daughter married to a notorious philanderer who could bring shame upon her and their family name.

While Rocco himself was no saint, his preferences leaned towards kept women rather than paid ones. Though the distinction was minuscule, some might argue it made a difference. But when you took into account my father's penchant for debauchery... I couldn't imagine any man willingly offering his daughter's hand in marriage to someone involved in such scandalous activities.

It was clear I had my work cut out for me. Not that giving up those vices was a hardship for me – I had never truly enjoyed them. However, if I'm being completely honest with myself, the main reason I wanted to change was for Catalina.

I wanted to be worthy of her love and respect. Someone she could proudly stand beside without fear of judgment or embarrassment. Perhaps even someone she could learn to love in return...

The streets were quiet as I wandered closer to the Agosti home. My father had grown increasingly angry with me for refusing to accompany him week after week, until he finally snapped and resorted to violence. He claimed to be teaching me a lesson, saying that my actions reflected poorly on him and made him appear weak.

But his "lesson" had been anything but gentle. His soldiers held me down while he mercilessly pummeled my face with his fists, the pain nearly causing me to lose consciousness. And when that wasn't enough for him, he grabbed a knife and thrust it between my ribs, inflicting a wound that would cause maximum agony without causing any permanent damage.

As I groan from the throbbing ache in my side, I realize that deep down I must have been hoping to catch a glimpse of Catalina. Seeing her again would bring some relief to the pain, even if only temporarily.

But I know better than to approach the front of the house. Doing so would only result in another beating from my father, and I've already endured enough for one day. So I continue to wander aimlessly through the streets, lost in my thoughts and trying to push away the physical and emotional pain that consume me.

A dizzying sensation washes over me, likely from the blood loss. I stumble towards the back of the imposing house, its high fence blocking any chance of entry – not that I have the strength or desire to enter in my current state.

My vision blurs as I spot a small corner nestled in the nook of the fence. From this angle, I can see into the back garden of the house. It's enough for me as I collapse against the fence, struggling to catch my breath. Every movement sends sharp pains shooting through my body, but I try to find a comfortable position against the cold metal bars.

To any passerby, I must look like a homeless man with my torn and bloody clothes, huddled against the fence with my face hidden under a hoodie. But right now, that doesn't matter to me. All I care about is drifting off to sleep and maybe even dreaming of her...

I lose track of time, but suddenly something prods at my shoulder, startling me awake. My first instinct is to defend myself or run away. With great effort, I lift my head and squint my good eye, trying to make sense of my surroundings in the harsh light.

"Fuck!" I curse as everything remains blurry. I pray there isn't any permanent damage to my eyesight as I struggle to focus on my unexpected visitor.

"Are you all right?" A soft, gentle voice breaks through the silence, and I slowly turn around. My heart flutters as I see her standing on the other side of the fence, her hand reaching through the gaps in the pickets. Catalina. She's like a vision, too perfect to be real.

"I..." My words catch in my throat as I take in her appearance. The way sunlight dances across her features, making her seem almost ephemeral. It's hard to tell if she's just a figment of my imagination or if she truly stands before me.

"You're hurt!" Her gasp of concern brings me back to reality, and I lower my head in embarrassment.

Why did I even come here?

I try to stand up, wanting to leave before she can see me in this vulnerable state, but it takes all my strength to do so.

"Wait, please! Don't go," her voice pleads, holding me in place with its magnetic pull.

I turn towards her fully now, taking in every detail. The way the sun illuminates her yellow dress, making it seem almost ethereal against the lush greenery surrounding us.

"Do you need anything?" Her eyebrows furrow with worry as she looks at my battered face.

I shake my head slightly.

"Please, just... wait here. Wait for me." She pauses as if waiting for my confirmation before dashing towards the nearby house. The sound of her footsteps fading away echoes in my ears as I wait for her return.

I stand rooted in place, my mind racing as I try to make sense of the figure before me. Is this a dream?

But then she's back, her presence palpable and undeniable.

"You didn't leave," she huffs, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Can you come closer?" Her hand beckons me towards the fence, and I move towards her like a loyal servant.

"Here," she says, slipping a small bag through the gap in the fence.

As our fingers brush against each other, a current of electricity jolts through my body.

"Oh!" she seems taken aback but doesn't recoil from my touch.

I peer into the bag and find a sandwich, some pieces of ripe fruit, and a small bottle of water. I look back at her in disbelief.

"Why?" My voice comes out hoarse, still raw with pain.

"You need to take care of yourself." She smiles, a gentle expression that reaches deep into my soul.

"Thank you..." My words catch in my throat as I struggle to comprehend this act of kindness – something so foreign to me, especially from a stranger.

I don't think anyone has ever given me anything before.

With trembling hands, I look in disbelief at the contents of the bag, feeling tears well up in my one good eye. A sob escapes me as I try to hold back overwhelming emotions.

"Thank you," I whisper again, my voice barely audible.

"You don't have to thank me. Anyone would do the same."

No one has ever done the same for me. Not until now...

"Could you possibly come a bit closer?" she whispers, pulling out a white cloth from her pocket with delicate fingers.

Curiosity piqued, I inch forward and peer at the cloth in her hand.

"It's for cleaning your wounds," she explains gently, gesturing for me to come nearer.

I press my face between the pickets, feeling her soft touch as she tenderly wipes away dirt and debris from my injuries. A sharp sting makes me flinch as she applies disinfectant, but she giggles and continues her diligent work.

Lost in her careful ministrations, I watch her with awe and reverence. Never before has anyone shown such care towards my wounds – and I've had more than my fair share.

Without thinking, I stop her hand just as it nears my injured eye. Bringing it to my lips, I place a kiss on her knuckles in a simple gesture of gratitude.

"Thank you," I say again, not caring how many times I repeat myself or how vulnerable this action makes me feel. In this moment, I am thankful to her in a way that I never thought possible.

She blushes but doesn't pull away from my touch.

We sit there for a while longer before she finally tells me that she must leave. But before she does, she surprises me with an unexpected question.

"Will you return?" Her words shock me to the core.

I can't find the words to answer her, and thankfully she doesn't press for one.

For the next couple of days, I religiously make my way to our designated meeting spot at the same time, every day. She arrives bearing medicine and food, as well as her comforting presence. We spend our time together discussing mundane topics, but for me, it's a welcome escape from reality.

She has no clue of my identity or the profound impact she has on me. Her innocent ignorance is a blessing and a curse.

Little does she know, I am about to face the consequences of yearning for something that will always be just out of reach.

PRESENT-DAY

A trail of tears cascades down her cheeks as I recount the painful details to her. I hold back the more vulnerable parts, like the bruises and scars that were inflicted upon me that day, or the fact that my love for her had made me seem weak in my father's eyes. And how he had taken advantage of that weakness in the worst way possible.

"I... I don't know what to say," she whispers, using the back of her hand to wipe away her tears. "Why didn't you come for me?"

"I didn't think I was worthy of you. My past... it's not pretty." It's a half-truth, but if she knew the real reason... I can't even imagine what would happen. But even though I stayed away, she never left my thoughts for a single day.

"Marcello..." The sound of her saying my name is like a balm to my soul. She has the power to heal me, but also the power to destroy me.

"Are you angry?"

"Angry? Why would I be angry?"

"Because I kept this from you." Her forgiveness means everything to me.

Her head shakes from side to side, her soft gaze never leaving mine. "No... no," she repeats, her voice gentle and full of understanding. "I could never be angry with you. But I do have some questions." She nestles in closer to me, resting her head on my chest. "How is it that you fell in love with me based on just a few brief interactions? It's just... unexpected. Not that I'm complaining, of course. I couldn't be happier to know you feel the same way." Her last words are spoken softly, almost shyly.

"It was simple, really. When all you've ever known is cruelty, the one person who shows you kindness becomes your entire world. And that person was you, Lina. From the moment you gave me that small bag of food and tended to my wounds, I started to believe that there was good in the world beyond the darkness. You gave me hope again." Even though that hope would eventually be shattered, she had still shown me a different way of living. And for that, she became my everything—my muse, my ultimate desire.

"What happened to you, Marcello?"

"More like what didn't happen," I reply wryly. "But I'll tell you..."

"Someday," we say in unison with a laugh.

"It's not that I don't want to, Lina. But it's difficult to talk about it." And because part of me doesn't think she'd look at me the same if she knew the things I've done.

"I'm here. Whenever you want to talk." She lays a kiss on my chest, her face nuzzling my side.

"So, you love me." I subtly change the subject, even though I still can't believe she loves me. It's simply too good to be true, considering I'd dreamed of hearing her say these words for so long.

"And you love me." She shoots back, arching an eyebrow, her lips twitching sheepishly.

"So much it hurts." I tip her chin up with my finger, wanting to show her the sincerity in my eyes. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Lina. Tell me to die tomorrow, and I will. Tell me to live, and I'll be your servant. Forever."

She blinks twice, a smile spreading on her lips. "Fine. As my servant, I command you to never stop loving me."

"Easy."

"And I want to have many, many children."

"Done," I immediately say.

"Really? How about ten?" Lina raises her eyebrow in a challenge.

"Ten works for me, but I'm worried about you since you'll be doing the hard work."

"I don't mind that. I want a big family." She tilts her head pensively. "A big loving family."

"Then I'll give you everything you want."

I gather her in my arms, my head resting atop hers.

And I silently pray.

That her love will be enough.

When the day comes...

Gently placing a kiss on Lina's lips, I whisper "Love you." It's become a ritual for me—ever since mustering up the courage to confess my feelings, I've made it my mission to let her know just how much she means to me at every opportunity. Some might say I do it in excess, but after ten years of keeping my longing hidden, I have some catching up to do.

I hurry to finish all of my meetings in time so I can return home. Guerra had made me an offer that I couldn't refuse, even if it was only temporary. While my trust in him is still shaky, the famiglia's concerns about our transportation issues are becoming impossible to ignore. Ever since the inauguration, there has been a clear divide among the members—one faction supporting me while the other stands behind Nicolo. It's something I had anticipated, but now it's crucial for me to convince everyone that I am the most capable candidate for Capo.

My doubts about Benedicto linger, as his true loyalties towards his brother remain uncertain. And with Franco's simmering resentment towards Catalina growing stronger after her public shaming, he seems like the most likely suspect in all of this chaos. But deep down, I know it's not him who's been terrorizing Catalina. All evidence points to the copycat Chimera, yet I'm no closer to uncovering their identity.

The entire situation is too messy. I just hope that for now the famiglia will be satisfied with Guerra's routes for transport and Enzo's clubs for distribution.

I spend most of the day going through warehouse to warehouse to make sure the next transport is secure enough. After I feel that everything is in order, I leave it up to Francesco to oversee the details.

It's almost dark when I get back home. I find the girls in the drawing room; Claudia and Venezia are doing their homework while Catalina is focused on drawing a new piece. I frown when I notice Sisi is missing. She's been doing that a lot lately.

"Marcello!" Lina drops everything to jump in my arms.

"Easy, love." I kiss the top of her head.

Venezia and Claudia acknowledge me with a nod, but they seem to be engrossed in whatever they are working on, so I don't want to disturb them.

"They have a quiz tomorrow," Lina whispers and waves me towards the stairs.

"How was your day?" she asks when we get in our room.

"Good, I think. Not sure yet," I admit, and I give her a quick summary of what I'd planned.

"If Guerra holds his end of the bargain, this could work." Lina helps me out of my shirt.

"Your brother's help is also a bonus. I've done the math and we could recoup our losses in a month, max two."

She purses her lips, her face strained.

"I've never liked what Enzo does. I mean, I don't like any of this. But he's knowingly and intentionally exploiting women." She shakes her head. "I just can't reconcile that with the image I have of my brother."

"There's one thing you need to understand, Lina." I turn to her, softly stroking her hair. "Mafiosi always have two faces: one that they show to their family, and one that they show to the outside world. You can't succeed in this cutthroat environment without ruthlessness and a compromise on morality. You might know him as a loving brother, but to everyone else, he's a capo and a made man."

She seems pensive for a moment.

"I know who you are with me," Lina says, poking her finger in my chest. "But what's the face you show to the outside world? The one you used to punish Franco?"

"No. It's much, much worse," I tell her honestly, hoping she won't probe for more.

"What do you mean?"

"I pray that you never find out." I lift her finger to my lips. She looks like she wants to say something more, so I silence her with a kiss. What she'd seen me do to Franco had been tame. If she knew what I'm capable of... I really hope she never finds out.

Before we can take things further, Amelia interrupts to let me know I received a package which she'd left in my office.

"Do you have to go now?" Her hand trails softly down my arm before intertwining our fingers.

"I won't be long," I say, reluctant to leave her side. "After that, I'm all yours."

"I'll wait for you."

Anticipation already building inside of me, I make a run for my office, intent on getting this over with quickly. As Amelia said, there is a big box on top of my desk.

Odd that Amelia didn't mention who it's from. A cursory glance tells me it doesn't have any labels.

I shrug and set about opening it. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I cut through the tape holding the box at the top.

I hadn't felt anything before, but the moment I open the box, the smell of death assaults me.

"Fuck!" I mutter, scrunching my nose in disgust. Is this another bad joke? Carelessly, I tear through the cardboard to see what is inside.

And then I still.

Severed at the neck, Father's head is placed face up inside the box. The skin is a blue-yellowish, a mix of pus and blood lingering at the decapitation line. The bullet wound is infested with maggots, as are his eye sockets—or what's left of them.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I take a step back, staring in shock at Father's rotting head. Who could have sent this?

But that means...

Taking a deep breath, I rummage through the box, looking for some clues as to who could have done this. It doesn't take me long to find a note.

NICE TRY!

My hand clenches around the piece of paper.

I've been played.

Trying to calm myself, I take a seat and replay the recent events in my head. There's only one conclusion to be drawn.

It's someone close to me.

This is all a joke for whoever is doing this. And putting things in perspective makes me think that everything's been a game so far. From me finding the asylum papers when I did – considering I'd gone through all of Tino's files before – to finding Father and killing him, hoping he was the source of my torment.

A manic laugh takes over. I can't even help myself as I bend forward, my belly hurting from laughing this hard.

And then I stop.

They think they won, huh? But now I have one invaluable clue. Whoever it is has unrestricted access to my house. But more than anything, they know about my past, and my work for Father. That narrows the list even more.

It's someone within the famiglia.

But this is more than that. It's personal. And I can't think of anyone I've offended. Sure, there's Nicolo and his cronies, but I've barely interacted with them. There is more to this than meets the eye, but I simply don't have enough information.

I call one soldier and instruct him to get rid of the head.

If they're so close... I might just need to plant a red herring.

I get back a little later to the room, and Lina is already tucked in bed. She smiles when she sees me, opening her arms. I slide in and cuddle her.

One thing is for sure. This is war. I can't let anyone take away my happiness. Not when I finally got her.