Page 77 of The Diávolos: Part One
“It’s okay, Angelica. It’s not your fault,” he says, squeezing my hand, and he gives me a soft smile.
I nervously gulp down some wine and decide it’s better to lay the topic to rest for now. Evan and I might still have some learning to do, but we have a lifetime for that.
Tomorrow, I’ll go see my father and tell him about Evan, and not worry about the outcome. I’ve spent my whole life fearing him. I even left home to get away, but I’m not running anymore.
PARTIII
THE BETRAYAL
“Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.” –Arthur Miller
Knowing what I’ve come here for today,a feeling of dread immediately washes over me as I walk through the door of mybaba’s house. For the first time, I’ll be standing up for myself, and I’m terrified. I’ve barely spoken to my father since the charity ball, but I know he’s upset. I unexpectedly left Niko behind, and I’ve been avoiding Gianis. The latter won’t bother my father as much, but I’m sure he’s wondering about my behavior.
There are still extra guards stationed around the property. Eldora greets me with a quick hug and kiss, and hurries away to continue her housework. It’s quiet, which is the usual around here. When I called this place home, it was often eerily silent, even with three people living in the house.
I catch a glimpse of my father sitting outside through the kitchen patio door, reading the newspaper, and drinking coffee. Although I can say I truly dislike this man, he’s still my father and I somehow still hold the slightest amount of respect for him. He cared and provided for me when I was growing up. He showed me an abundant amount of love when I was a little girl, crying for mymama. I wish that image remained the only one of him I remembered. Sadly, that’s not the case, and I’ve come to terms with it.
I try to visit him once a week to stay in his good graces, but our interactions only stretch so far. He asks me about my current pastimes, if I need money, and if I’m doing okay. I ask him about his health, his ventures, and whether he needs help with anything. I usually come over for lunch and stay for a couple of hours, until he has to get back to work or I get bored. But today is different. I’m here for a purpose, and as anxious as I am about the outcome, I put my big girl pants on this morning. I’m ready.
I join him on the patio and sit down. We remain in silence for a while. He keeps glancing at me, as if he has something to say but doesn’t know how to. I’ve never seen my father so unsure about speaking up. I almost want to ask him what’s on his mind, but I prefer to stay in the dark for as long as I can. We have never been good at communicating. When I was little, it was easy. I clung to him in the absence of my mother, and he acted like a dutiful father, tending to my every need. Even though we had a housekeeper and nannies, I never left his side. I loved him so much back then.
Things changed when I became a teenager. My mood fluctuated and I remember being so angry, but I didn’t know why. There still seems to be a whole period of my life that’s just blank. I have no memory of the lost time. But my father became cold toward me for some reason, barely able to look me in the eye. When I tried talking to him about what was going on, he claimed nothing was wrong, but things had changed. I noticed how cold he had grown. He was no longer the loving father I once knew. I spent many nights wondering what I’d done for him to behave that way. It hasn’t been the same since.
The nightmares I had when I was younger started showing up again when I moved back to Cebrene a couple months ago. A reminder that I’m in Hell again. I still don’t know if these dreams are real fragments of my memories, but they’re always skewed and confusing. Images of women covered in long, conservative dresses hurrying groups of wide-eyed, little girls into spaces that look like classrooms. Children bunked in small rooms, clutching onto each other while the women came in to give punishments to the bratty ones. I never see myself in those dreams, but it always feels like I was there, watching and living everything with those girls.
My father finally speaks. “I was told you left Niko at the charity ball. Care to explain why?” he asks, with a judgmental tone. I only have one option: lie.
“I felt sick and had to leave unexpectedly. He offered to take me home, but I refused. I didn’t want both of us to be missing at the table,” I explain.
Babanods, though he seems to doubt my answer. “How did you get home?”
Shit. Here’s where I’ll have to be careful. My father never asks questions blindly.
“I walked.”
“Youwalked?” He narrows his eyes. At that same moment, I hear footsteps approaching and turn to see Gianis walking out of the kitchen to join us.Yes, my saving grace.
“Yié mou, sit. I was just about to talk to Angelica about something,” my father says.
Gianis’ face turns weary, but he complies and takes a seat between us at the round patio table. I don’t get the chance to greet him when my father turns his attention back to me. “I heard about that boy you’ve been fucking like a littlepoutána,” he hisses.
I almost spit out my coffee. “Wow,” I choke out.
Fucking like a little whore. So much for not knowing how to approach the situation. My stomach twists at his harsh words and I’m too stunned to speak. Gianis’ expression widens in shock and his nostrils flare as he stares at my father, hands clenched under the table, as if he wants to hit something.
But mybabadoesn’t even notice the shift in the air as he continues, his tone full of disgust. “Did you know that yourboyfriendis the new Godfather of our rival family, Angelica? Evander is theactualVasilakis heir. He is the nephew of the man I had killed weeks ago. I planned to take over his territory. Discovering that Evander is the successor has created an obstacle for us, but not one we couldn’t handle. But now that you’ve been seen with him, you’re going to fuck everything we’ve worked for,” he spits.
I’m in utter shock. There’s no way…Evander Vasilakis?I thought his name was Evan Loukas. I never knew his last name before last night, but I never once thought it would be Vasilakis. Everything starts piecing together and my heart sinks further and further. His dead uncle is Ignatius Vasilakis? His business ismobbusiness. The club he owns is in Vasilakis territory. It was all under my nose and I chose to ignore it. His secrecy was because he was hiding his whole identity, knowing exactly which family I represented. His rival. I always knew he’d been withholding information from me, but I never thought it would be this destructive.
“First of all, it’s none of your business whether I’mfuckinghim or not,” I say, barely moving a muscle in my face. I’m never this blunt with mybaba, but his comment sparked a fire under my ass. I’m about to eject out of my seat and land a punch right onto his face. “Second, how is that possible? I know the Vasilakis family, and he was never mentioned as the heir.” My father had a long-standing battle with them, but never once was I made aware of Evan’s—Evander’s—existence.
I don’t keep up with the ins and outs of the mob, but the Vasilakis family has been a thorn in my father’s side for decades. As a young girl, I’d heard that Ignatius and my father were once allies, but something tore their friendship apart, and my father has been trying to destroy him ever since. I had no idea he’d had himkilled. Regardless, it was always known Ignatius Vasilakis didn’t have an heir, since he had no children of his own. His brother, who was the Godfather before him, was brutally murdered, alongside his wife and children.
“Surprise,kóri mou.It looks like your new boyfriend hasn’t been honest with you.”
How does he even know about Evan in the first place? I inwardly laugh at myself for even asking that question. How could I expect any less from my father? I came here expecting to have a grown-up conversation with a man who still treats me like a child. I should’ve known he would have his goons watching me. I give Gianis a glare, my anger pouring out. “Did you tell him?” I ask, my tone full of rage. I’ve never spoken to him like this. But he knew about Evan. Could he have impulsively told my father because he was jealous?
“No, Ang. It wasn’t me,” he replies, sounding distraught. I believe him. Gianis would never hurt me.
