31. Simon

The prison guard gives me a hard stare as she pats me down. I swear she lingers a little too long in the crotch region before jerking her head for me to follow. "Security's been rough lately," she says by way of explanation. I ignore her comment and follow her to the visiting area.

The room's like a large cafeteria. There are tables and chairs all over the place with big vending machines filled with all different stuff. Men in brown jumpsuits sit around with people in civilian clothes, and I'm always struck by the diversity in a place like this. Old women, young men, girls and boys, even a few kids. They laugh and talk, and even if the vibe's always a little strained, it's still nice to see life happen no matter how high the bars are.

I find my youngest brother, Angelo, sitting in a far corner away from everyone else. He's got a table all to himself and the guards give him a wide berth. I notice the other inmates give him respectful nods as they walk by, most of which he returns, and he gets up to give me a warm hug.

"You're here alone," he comments as we get settled. "That's new. Dad and Davide usually come along."

"I figured I should spend some time with my brother all on my own." I lean forward on the back, my elbows on the table top. "How are things?"

"Ah, you know, the usual." He waves a hand, grinning. My brother's always an optimist on the outside, but I can tell prison's weighing on him. There are bags under his eyes, and his beard is much scruffier than it would've been on the outside. He's even more muscular than before he came in which he attributes to boredom, but I know it's also because he needs to defend himself. The Bianco family name carries a lot of weight, but there are constantly new threats to deal with from the other gangs.

We talk about nothing important for a little while. He asks questions about Emily, but when it's clear that I don't want to talk much about her, he pivots to the usual prison news, updating me on the various Famiglia members behind bars with him.

"You didn't drive out here just to hear me tell you about Old Mickey's fucking sore knee," he says, voice dropping and a knowing smirk on his face. "I'm guessing whatever you really want to talk about, it's got to do with Dad."

I hesitate, not sure how much he knows about our father's slow decline. I've told him some things over the phone, but I never want to go into detail, not over a line that's being recorded. "Things are bad," I eventually admit and fill him in on what's happened recently.

Including Dad's ultimatum.

Angelo leans back with an appalled expression. "What the fuck is he thinking?" he murmurs more to himself.

"I already told Elena, Davide, and Laura that I'm not going to do it. Now I'm here telling you. I'll die before I marry a fucking Santoro girl."

"Can't say I blame you, but what the hell are you going to do? You know how Dad is. He's going to flip shit when you refuse him."

I take a deep breath and lean closer. "That's why I'm here. I need your support, brother."

My meaning is clear. His eyes go wide, but he quickly schools his expression and crosses his arms, looking at me with this inscrutable tilt to his head. I'm not sure what he's thinking, but I just suggested a fucking civil war, an internal coup, and we all know that won't end well.

I see no other option. Dad's going to be livid when I tell him no and he'll turn to the next child in line—which means it would be Angelo's turn. My brother's probably already doing the math. This would be his shot at becoming the Don and leapfrogging over me and Davide, and all he'd have to do is walk down the aisle with the daughter of our sworn enemy.

"You have a plan," he says after a long silence.

"Not yet. Not exactly. But I'm working on something. Right now, I need to know I can count on you."

He grunts and runs a hand through his buzzed hair. "You know, when we were kids, I used to dream about becoming Don one day. I'd sit out in the back yard and imagine giving everyone orders instead of taking shit all the time. I thought it'd be fucking great, being the guy on top."

My hands ball into fists. I stare at him, wondering where this is going. "We all did when we were little."

He seems to relax and sits up straighter. "I realized a long time ago that I don't want it. All that fucking responsibility. You were always meant to be the Don, and if you want my support, you got it. Though it won't do shit for you since I'm still behind bars for another two years."

Relief floods me. I thought Angelo would agree, but I wasn't sure, and hearing that is an enormous weight from my shoulders.

"Just knowing you have my back is huge. Also, that you're not going to jab a knife between my ribs."

"Dad's suffering right now," Angelo says, his tone getting somber as he looks away from me and down at the floor. "The guy you've been describing to me, I don't know, that's not the Dad I remember. I've seen a little bit of that when he visited the last time, but if you say it's worse, then I believe you. I'm sorry it's happening."

"We're all sorry, but this is why I'm making these plans. Because Dad needs to step down."

Angelo grunts and blows out a long breath. "What about your current wife? If you don't plan on marrying the Santoro chick, I'm guessing you're going to keep Emily around?"

"She's my wife and I don't plan on changing that anytime soon. Even if she's a little pissed at me right now." I tell him about the fight we had and how she's holed up at her father's place. I still haven't been able to get through to her, but it's only a matter of time.

"Better fix that before Dad tries to kill you both," he says, grinning, but we both know that isn't a joke.

We chat for a while more until visiting hours are done. I feel better when I leave, knowing Angelo's supportive of me taking over as Don and forcing Dad out. Even if I don't know how that'll happen yet.

I don't want violence. The last thing the organization needs right now is a bloody coup. I have to figure out a way to make Dad see that he has gone too far with this marrying Valentina shit, and that it's time for him to step aside. Right now, I'm laying the groundwork.

As I climb into my truck, my phone starts to ring. I pause and stare at the screen, shocked to see Emily's name. I've called her a dozen times over the last day and she ignored every single text I've sent, but a spark of excitement jolts into me. She's finally reaching out. I can finally tell her that there's no way in hell I'm marrying Valentina and I never was going to—which was why I hadn't mentioned it yet. Which was a mistake, and one I'll apologize for.

"Emily," I say, raising the phone to my ear.

"It's my dad." Her tone instantly puts me on guard. She sounds shaky, like she's on the edge of crying. "I think there's something wrong."

"Did you call 911? I'm outside the city visiting Angelo, but I can pull some strings at the hospital?—"

"No, no, it's not that," she says quickly. "No, it's about the money. Simon, I think he's getting scammed again, and I don't know what to do."