No one says a word as I stand, and Giovanni reluctantly follows suit. He pulls himself up, wiping the blade of his knife against his jeans before closing it away and placing it back into his pocket. He stalks off first, and we all just follow behind him. I can sense Manuel’s worry, and I know how he hates what business our father conducts, but he sticks at it because we’re family. He has no one else.
From the moment I walk into the room, I smell gasoline. Not just a little bit of spilt fuel, but heaps of saturated fumes. It fills my senses so fiercely I have to force myself to breathe through my mouth. As soon as Enzo moves away, I’m made well-aware of the culprit. Standing before us, a snivelling mess, is my father’s newest recruit, Ricardo. He came to my father, a distant link to the Abbiati blood line, and vowed to work for my father until his dying breath just so he could claim a part in our family. We welcomed him in with opened arms, and I feel a sense of betrayal that he has ended up in this fucked-up predicament.
I look to my father as he sits rather at ease in the armchair directly in front of Ricardo. He takes his gaze away Ricardo to look at us. Instantaneously, his eyes land directly upon me, and he bursts into a bright smile. I feel a swirl of happiness burst within at just knowing I am still the apple of my father’s eye. I’m almost twenty-four, and I find this to be somewhat encouraging that my place in my family is very much cemented.
“What’s going on?” Enzo asks as he crosses the room, leaving Giovanni to inspect the state of Ricardo.
“There’s a delay on dinner because we’ve had a snake among the grass for the last few months,” our father announces, displeasure fuels his tone and the bitterness licks at my hearing. “Ricardo might have passed all my tests, but apparently, he forgot to divulge one tiny piece of vital information.” As he stands, my father brings out a lighter. I gulp as he steps closer to Ricardo. “He forgot to mention that he cannot keep his mouth shut about what goes on within the walls of my home. The home I offered to him.” Teasing the terrified man, my father ignites the flame upon the lighter and draws it closer to him before tearing it away and grinning like a foolish maniac. “You knew, Ricardo, that sins are repaid.”
“Please,” Ricardo begins to beg, his hands coming together in prayer. “Please, Dio, please, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I won’t ever betray you like that.” His voice quivers and shakes, his sniffling worsens, and he looks ready to drop to his knees wholly defeated and asking God for repentance. “I won’t do it again!”
“The problem is you already have!” my father cries out, his voice a sonic boom that echoes around the room. “You are a lowdown snake, and I won’t have anyone, and I mean anyone, jeopardizing the empire I have helped keep together for my family to inherit once I’m gone. I certainly won’t have someone who claims he wants a family, but does the ultimate betrayal of ramming the first knife he can find into our backs.”
“Please, Sal,” Ricardo tries again, his voice becoming far more desperate than ever before.
“I do not give second chances,” my father remarks; his voice is low but so thunderous Ricardo knows better than to think he’ll make it out alive.
My father ignites a new flame and tosses the lighter toward Ricardo. Out of impulse, he tries to catch it only to find himself in a dire predicament as the flames unite with the flammable gasoline smothering him. The flame, just one flick, turns into a ball, and within minutes, Ricardo is entirely alight – screaming, howling, and begging for the pain to stop. I stare, this time not out of praise that my life has been spared a new hell, but because someone I classed as family is working his way to one of the most horrific deaths ever. I have to force myself to look away as he drops to the floor, still screaming out, the noise cementing itself into every brain cell that can’t deny it access. The horror plays away even with my eyes closed, and I try, in vain, to wish this all away. I am a lot of things, horrible things I will even call myself, but this breaks my heart.
I open my eyes and face the cruel reality presented to us this evening. It’s as I watch the man before me burn that I realize God’s work is done once again. My father has not one forgiving bone in his body. There’s no remorse to a God with a devilish soul. There’s only an unyielding craving for wrongdoers to be punished for their crimes. He always sees that the horror of all deeds are repaid before he is satisfied.
“Dio Lavoro,” my father states our family name. He comes to me, cupping my chin in gentle ease, forcing me to look up at him. I’m never met with the face of a killer, just my father. “Don’t ever forget who you are, Princess.”