Francesco was suddenly finding it hard to function. It felt suffocating standing there towering over his own son and giving him and ultimatum. Vincenzo couldn't beat him in this game. He knew more than he did. But it didn't mean he enjoyed it. This was not how he wanted that night to be spent. He wanted to be at home sitting next to the fire place talking to his family and have cups of tea with cake. He wasn't planning on standing in the basement of his father and threatening his own son with consequences of his actions. As much as he wanted to teach his son a lesson this method wasn't his method of choice. He was having a strange feeling. It was like reliving his time he had spent there... He didn't want to be his father. He didn't want to be the man his father was. He didn't want to intimidate and threaten his blood. It was all his father's fault for forcing him to act this way. This wasn't him. He looked at his son who was sitting silently and deeply in thought. He was hoping he conceded. He didn't want to be his father. He didn't want to have to be hard on his son. He reserved that for his enemies. What he was going to be forced to do was going to scar his son for life mentally. He had to kill. He had to make a blood bath.
Vincenzo was looking up at his father. He wasn't concerned with the ultimatum. His mind was occupied with his father's reaction. It did imply he had been here before. But his grandfather hadn't shared that information with him. His grandfather had said his father didn't like to come to that building with certainty. But Vincenzo hadn't been too curious to know why. He did not think it was important. There were many places his father didn't step foot in for security reasons. This building had been through so much. The area around it used to have a lake but it was dried now and instead hotels were built in place of it. It used to be a vast property that was residential but now around it, there were buildings. They all belonged to the Rosarios but the Sicilian Rosarios. The set of buildings were enclosed with walls that had security cameras on them. His grandfather didn't think his father would come but he had. Maybe it was a security measure but his father had nothing to fear from grandpa Paulo. Or did he? Was it fear? He didn't see fear in his father's eyes. He couldn't read the emotion.
Francesco said "Three minutes." He then he was haunted by his memories that forced him to sit down. He continued to stare down his son but his mind went back in time.
It was the year 1950. It was right before meeting Adele. Francesco had been out late boxing with the guys. O'Neil was with him too. They had come back to his house. Francesco could always count on O'Neil. He was the only man he fully trusted in his life.
O'Neil had seen his father's car "He is home early... Damn."
Francesco had shrugged "Its not like it matters... I have no curfew."
O'Neil said "I know but I don't want you to get beaten up again like you did last night. Don't argue with him. It's not worth it. This is not a fair fight."
Francesco had chuckled "You talk as though I have a choice in the matter."
O'Neil had sighed "You are right... But you do have some choices. Come to my house. My parents will adopt you and costanzo."
Francesco had said "And Leave my mother's fate at his mercy. I only stay with him so I can get information on her safety. If she dies I will kill him."
Emanuel had said "I get it. You don't complain to anyone even the Don just because of your mothers life that's in his hands... But you don't know if she is alive still."
Francesco had said "If she was dead he would tell us. He has to. If he denies me and costanzo her funeral we can go to the Don."
Emanuel had said "Don Vitorio should act... Why can't he adopt you?"
Francesco had said "My father is his favourite son. No one reports my father to his family. No one has ever told the Don that his son is a useless father..."
His father had walked out with a bottle of whiskey. He had high alcohol tolerance. He could drink the day and night away but he couldn't ever become drunk enough to show affection to his sons... so his father's next words had surprised him "Who left that bruise on your head?"
Francesco had shrugged "I fell..."
His father had looked him up and down "I thought so... I was going to say... if anyone managed to hit you then I don't think your private instructors are doing a great job...."
His father never cared. He never was interested in what he was upto. He had been offered so many scholarships even as fourteen year old... He was exceptionally academic in school but his father never cared.
Paulo had said "Your school called. They invited me to come to an award ceremony because of your inventions happen in the junior circle.... What a joke of a school. They reward you for what? Average achievement? I am sending you to Oklahoma soon so I decided not to pull you out of your school today."
O'Neil had made Francesco roll his eyes with his sarcastic question "Sir. What are you wearing to his award ceremony."
Paulo never appreciated the jokes this skinny blonde kid threw his way but he had those pair of Irish eyes that said he was going to mean business in every aspect one day. He said "Award ceremonies are for losers with no self esteem. Winners go out there and do it."
Paulo then had said "Go get changed... We have guests..."
Later that day he had seen the guests. The Sicilians. They had come over and his father had suddenly become caring or rather as caring as he could be.
All that mattered was his father's reputation. He didn't want a weakling as a son. He wanted an heir who acted beyond his years. Francesco was condemned to fail his father and never was going to meet his father's high expectations. How could he reach his father's targets that he was set for him when he was a teenager. He was only fourteen. His father expected him to act like an adult. He just couldn't grow up fast enough. But of course the only time he was expected to be acting like a child was when he argued back. He was meant to submit to his father's strict regime. His father left him to be free and there were no boundaries as long as he did what he was told. His father beat him to a pulp if he dared challenge anything. If he followed his father's way he was rewarded but if he didn't he had to pay.
When he looked into his sons eyes he tried to look back. He tried to search what he had done wrong by him to get him to this stage that his son was not listening to reason. If his son didn't surrender it meant he was not trusting him. But why? He never forced his children to do anything. They always had choices... He never beat them up for disobeying. He just made them understand why he had his rules rather than beat it into them. He just didn't understand why Vincenzo was not allowing him to take over this case. Why was he being so stubborn. It wasn't him who had planted in his head that taking on Jackson had to be that night. Could it be his father? No. He didn't see it. Because he had taught his son better than to take sides with a man he hardly knew. Vincenzo couldn't possibly trust Paulo over his father.
Francesco decided to get up and pour himself a drink. As he stood up, he whispered "You have three minutes..."
Vincenzo whispered "Father... Have you been here before? Tell me what you know about this lair..."
His father walked away "You tell me who has taught you to question my judgement when you know full well I am right... When I find out who has influenced you I will unleash my wrath... Or you can tell me now. I will find out either way... I didn't teach you to react to a situation like Jackson's this way. Someone else must have..."
Vincenzo remained silent... His father was onto him... His father was right. His teachings were not just from his father... He had been trained by other men before his father had any chance to introduce him to his business.
He recalled his memories of his time at his uncle Antonio's house when he was five. He was placed under her close security arranged by him and nothing could touch him under his uncles close security. His siblings were placed with his uncle Constanzo and he was with uncle Antonio when his father left the country for business. He was his first born heir so he was placed in a different home than his brother.
The first time he had become curious while he was with his uncle it had made him change his life path.
He recalled the sounds of footsteps and arguments outside his bedroom. Uncle Antonio had guests who auntie Georgina did not like. He had left his bedroom chasing the sounds. His uncle Antonio had taken the guests to the basement. It was a few stories down. His uncle Antonio's house was massive and connected to the most affluent part of the city. He could smell the cologne of his guests from far. When he had reached the basement he had hidden behind some boxes watching the men playing cards and chatting about business. The guests were De Luca Constantini and his entourage. De Luca was a widowed man. His wife had died and he was in a bad place. Life was not meaningful to him and uncle Antonio was trying to help him.
Vincenzo had been hiding undetected for two nights in a row watching his uncle play cards when he had noticed De Luca had brought his daughter and she was sleeping in a corner. Cristina was resembling her water a lot. Had the pointy noise and electric blue eyes as he had found out when he had woken her up when the men had gone next door to watch the football match.
She had just stared at him strangely and then had shrugged. He was only five years old. They just chuckled and rolled around on the carpet and he played hide and seek with her. Then when he had hidden for her to find him he had met the man who he was never meant to see. His grandfather. He had picked him up and looked into his eyes whispering "You have my sons eyes..."
Vincenzo had just laughed since he was ticklish. He had said "Who are you?"
Before his grandpa could reply, just then Antonio had returned and was mortified "Vincenzo." He had made the sign of the cross "Lord have mercy. Your father will kill me for this. Why did you leave your bed?" He then had walked to the entrance of the basement to grab him but grandpa had not let him touch Vincenzo "I knew he was the older one. Vincenzo." He had turned him towards himself while kissing his forehead "Antonio said to me you had your father's eyes... You are your father's son ..."
Antonio had tried to grabbed Vincenzo "Let me take him to his room. He should be in bed.... Then we can talk about the business deals we are due to discuss this month..."
Vincenzo never recalled seeing his Antonio so scared in his life. He was pale. Very pale. His voice was shaky. It was like he was seeing his death scenes in his mind.
Paulo had given Antonio a look and had said "I will take him to my lair through the under ground tunnels and will bring him back when you need him back. If you wish to have him back go tell Francesco where he is because I am not giving up my grandson..."
Vincenzo had asked again "Who are you? I want to go with uncle Antonio."
He had whispered to Vincenzo as he had taken him away "I am your grandpa... You can call me grandpa Paulo. Uncle Antonio can come with us too... if you want him to. What my grandson wants, my grandson gets."
His uncle Antonio had whispered "What Francesco wants is what he gets. He will want my blood and yours when he finds out... You just have now realised family matters but it's too late. You are three decades late..."
But of course his uncle Antonio had given in. At the time he didn't understand what was happening. But his uncle Antonio was more sympathetic to his grandpas side. He had later found out how his uncle Antonio had been raised by his mother against his wishes. Yet his father was raised by his grandpa. So his uncle Antonio took side of the family that he felt closer to. There had been a void in his life. He couldn't say no to the wishes of grandpa Paulo since his loyalty was to his father Piero too. But he would have taken a bullet for his cousin Francesco too. His uncle Antonio was a special character. He didn't want him dead. His uncle Antonio always played ball with him and his son Alexander sometimes all night until Vincenzo went to bed. He knew now that the punishment for what he had done was death. If his father found out his uncle Antonio was going to be dead. Maybe the punishment was going to extend to his wife Georgina and his son Alexander too.
That night his life had changed forever. What followed had become his top secret.