IN THE SHADOW OF THE MAFIA
an's
day we burie
thing feel colder than it already was. I stood there in my black suit, staring a
s, but their words were hollow. They didn't care. They di
n there
r's old scarf like it was some lifeline. I didn't care if she was mournin
es, sure, but we were doing okay. He worked hard, and I respected him for th
. Hera was just a kid back then, all wide-eyed and sh
sabella made herself comfortable, acting like this house was hers, and Hera..
ather doted on her, calling her "h
two years after Isab
bella-something sweet, he said. He wanted to take her o
ate
ming. It wasn't fair. My father had become a man I didn't recognize,
n the c
Their car was crushed.
after the accident, not even when I sa
as the
so was my father. But
all fell on me. Hera, of course, was useless. She was just a teenag
ing up space, acting like she was
r my resentment to tur
ce, the same way she made everything about herself. She didn't see
stairs with her little drawings and daydreams,
as the matter of
left behind. But I did. I knew everything. That money was supposed to come to
o didn't deserve a single penny. It was infuriating, but I kept quiet
chance to escape with
ght was just bad luck, but I knew better. I knew because Ma
y like a predator savoring its prey. "You're st
at he was talking about, but I forced
a child. "A certain someone, carrying a certain bag, trying to run off int
I said quickly,
ing before you settle your debt, I'll take that as you t
part. Back then, it wasn't about the money-I gambled for the thrill, for the rush of b
ough. "Gambling's a game where the house always wins, Damian," he'd say, shakin
ents' deaths, ev
ne. It was overwhelming. I thought gambling would help me escape for
e extra money to cover expenses. But as the wins grew fewer and
mbling, desperate to fix the mess I'd created. Each loss pushed me to be
house al
o Valente, the man who never forgot a debt-he made
at a local poker game. I didn't know who they were at first, but their offer seemed simple: a q
've know