Page 13 of Enzo
I had to become my brother.
Present
“You mean metaphorically,” Enzo asked with a furrowed brow, yanking me back to the present.
“Not metaphorically. Literally.”
I considered Enzo and Amadeo as sons and would have preferred to go to the grave with this secret. Fordecades,I’ddreaded having this conversation with them. Their childhood was hard; the mark their mother left still in their souls, and I didn’t want to be responsible for yet another scar.
It was time for them to learn this cursed family secret, because I was officially stepping down as the head of the family. I’d carried the torch as long as I could, and Enzo was ready. He’d been running most of the business, illegal and legal, for a good number of years. In fact, the Marchetti empire grew under him. The multiple softwares he developed improved the operational efficiency of our weapon and drug smugglings as well as our fashion houses, wineries, and oil business. The profits were significantly improved, and he’d proven himself over and over again.
It was time he claimed the throne, and while the world didn’t have to know the truth, he and his brother did.
Amadeo hadn’t taken it so well, but I hoped Enzo would understand my motivations. He was more rational and calculative. He had to be that way to become the leader of our criminal organization, and I was proud to call him my child, regardless of what a piece of paper and some DNA said.
“How was he? Our father?” Amadeo’s question surprised me, because he’d been mostly quiet since I broke the news.
“Impulsive and reckless,” I admitted. “But he had the biggest heart.”
“So, we’re not yours?” Enzo questioned slowly, his expression unreadable. He’d become more of a closed book the older he got.
“You’re mine,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest. “You’ve been my sons since the moment I held you, in one capacity or another. You’re mine as much as Inessa, Romeo, Iryna, and Fausto. Isla and I love you all equally.”
“Isla’s words are now making sense. I’m assuming she knew,” Enzo deadpanned.
I nodded. “When we got married, she caught on to the name the priest used during the wedding vows. You know her…”
They nodded, the first hint of a smile appearing on their faces.
“Why tell us now?”
“Because it’s time I step down from the Marchetti throne,” I stated calmly. “I’m way too old for this shit, and not as sharp anymore.”
“Bullshit,” Amadeo hissed. “You’re sharper than a blade.”
“Sons, I never wanted this.” I extended my arms as if I could point to this criminal empire of ours, when in fact it was invisible. “My brother ran the criminal empire, I ran our legal side. Fashion house, winery, olive oil business. When he died, I protected it all for you.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just let it go?” Amadeo questioned.
I shook my head. “If I’d known for certain nobody would have come for you, yes. Maybe,” I amended. “However, the world we live in would have insisted on ending anyone with a claim to the Marchetti empire. I couldn’t risk that path. Not with your lives.”
“Why didn’t you just take it yourself?” Enzo questioned.
I let out a sardonic breath. “Because I gave up the claim to it. There was no coming back from my choices, and my brother knew it.”
“And our… mother?” Enzo questioned, reluctant as ever to talk about her, not that I could blame him. “Did she play a part in ending our… father? The ‘real’ Enrico, I guess?” His hands came up to air-quote the word, and I was reminded of his loyalty. Every day, he made me a proud father.
Amadeo’s head whipped up, darting between his brother and me, a stricken expression on his face. I’d hoped to spare them this, but something in Enzo’s eyes told me he already knew.
“Yes.”
5
ENZO
Amadeo shot to his feet, leaving the office with a slam of the door. He wasn’t taking this well, not that I blamed him. It was a lot to process, but after the information I’d gleaned from Diana Bergman, nothing shocked me anymore.
“Are you going to storm off, too?” Father questioned.
