“Please, Mr. Capadonno! You’re not well enough. Please get back in bed…” Letty asked, but clearly Michael wasn’t paying her any attention whatsoever.
This time, Michael waved Letty off as he crossed into the dim hallway. Under the faint lights of the crystal chandelier that was anchored from the ceiling, Michael Capadonno approached an antique cherry wood console table. Atop the table sat a crystal vase with a beautiful but elaborate arrangement of red roses and casa blanca lillies. On the table, an old photograph of Andrea Cormack, Michael’s only true love, sat nestled in an oval, porcelain frame, surrounded by old photographs of each of the Capadonno children. Hanging on the wall above the table was a massive antique mirror with French Baroque accents. Gazing at himself in the mirror, Michael looked up at his reflection as a deep scowl glared from his face. A chill ripped through Letty’s body as she watched Michael stare callously at his likeness in the mirror. He grimaced at the man he had become. His eyes were still the same as they had always been—dark and mysterious, cool and calculating—but everything else about his appearance had changed. Michael had dark circles under his eyes. His hairline had receded and his black hair had lightened to an unwelcoming shade of grey. Michael’s cheeks were sunken in, his cheekbones and nose becoming more prominent with age. The man looked emaciated. As his nurse, Letty knew with certainty that Michael was well-nourished. Michael had a hearty appetitite, his body had simply stopped absorbing the nutrients in the food he ate. The disease had run its course. Michael’s once stout, muscular frame had atrophied into that of a sickly old man. At sixty-six years old, Michael’s life had reached the end of its rope.
Letty watched as Michael stared coldly at his own reflection in the mirror. He seemed to be getting more agitated by the second. Raine and Anthony’s screaming match had reached a feverish pitch. But Michael didn’t turn to the foyer. He continued to stare himself down in the mirror as his calculating gaze summed up his likeness. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes. Something was very off about him. Michael Capadonno’s mind had snapped. In that instant, the man that Letty had grown to respect and care for was gone, and he was replaced with the man that sent larger men cowering in fear. A monster stared back at Letty from the mirror. She had never been more terrified in her life. With a swift backhand, Michael sent the crystal vase flying from the table to the marble floor where it shattered into a million tiny fragments. The red roses lost their petals and rained down upon the floor like droplets of blood.
I want to go forth. I want to stop him. I want to prevent Michael from causing anyone harm, but in that moment I am frozen solid. It isn’t my tremendous fear that is stopping me in my tracks. I’m not a dumb girl, you know. When Michael Capadonno has a hissy fit, you do not want to get in the way. When a mind snaps, it is deaf to reasoning. In Carrion, New Jersey, the color of money isn’t green. It’s red. Crimson red, to be exact. Crime scene red, if you will. Don’t believe me? Take a look around. The rich and the powerful, didn’t get there through hard work. They earned their riches by the edge of a blade and the cock of a gun. Look at my boss, for instance. Michael Capadonno. Retired hitman for the Capadonno crime family, Underboss and one of Carrion’s most feared men. Don’t let his sly smile fool you. The man is a cold-blooded killer.
Michael stood quite calmly in the hallway despite his obvious rage. His hands lay gently on the cherry wood, his fingers carressing the smooth surface of the table. Dropping his hands to the top drawer of the console table, his thin fingers gripped the ornate bronze handle and jerked forcefully, pulling the drawer open with a bang.
Fuck. I know what’s in that drawer. Fuck Fuck Fuck. Don’t do it, Michael. Don’t fucking do it! Don’t make me lose my shit!
But despite the mental messages that Letty was sending to Michael, their connection was firewalled. Michael pulled a black handgun from the drawer. Giving himself one last glance in the mirror, all semblance of compassion had been stripped from his face.
“Michael!” Letty cried out, hoping that he would listen. Something in Letty’s heart told her he wouldn’t, but then he did something that she did not expect. Holding the gun at his side, he turned around and gave Letty a look of deep sorrow.
“Please stay here,” Michael said in a voice as smooth as silk. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Gulp.
Letty watched as Michael vanished from the doorway. A moment later the arguing ceased, and instead of cursing at Anthony, Rainey began pleading with her father. As Michael held his gun to Anthony’s head, Raine tugged on her father’s shirt sleeve, begging him to spare Anthony’s life.
“You got rocks for brains, son?” Michael screamed as he cocked his gun.