Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Don Battista Cipriani was your grandmother’s father, something he didn’t learn until after I sent them away. He and his goomar had a falling out. She kept his daughter from him.” He waves a hand and purses his lips.
“This too, was kept a secret. Being three of the most feared and hated families, we’ve worked together to hide all our secrets. You see, Gio, you have to understand how volatile things were.
“We had the power, but there were other things at play. War, betrayal, and a lack of loyalty in the ranks. Leadership wasn’t leadership, it was a free-for-all.
“So I’m not just a Di Lorenzo, I’m a Ferrari and Cipriani? Is that what I’m hearing right now?”
I’m seething. If I had known this twenty-four years ago, there would have been no stopping me from allowing Nyla to put a bullet in Riccardo’s head. I’m just about positive I would have done it myself.
“Yes, you are a Di Lorenzo, Cipriani, and Ferrari by birth and by chance or divine intervention, you have Del Vecchio blood in your veins. Your mother was the Don of the Di Lorenzo family. Your father is my nephew and the grandson of Don Cipriani. The families need new leadership. I plan to place you in that position.”
“Why?” I ask as I look him in the eyes. “And wait? How do the Del Vecchios fit in?”
He points to his face. “You see this? I was burned with acid and tortured so they could find my brother. I refused, and once I got free, I destroyed everything in my path.
“Anthony Riccardo Esposito was a filthy piece of shit who got what he deserved.”
“Riccardo’s father. What does he have to do with this?”
“It’s a disease, this lust for power they have. It started with him. Anthony wanted the business my brother had established in America. He was the one who gave Michelangelo up.
“Your grandfather was smart like you. He never wanted to run things out front. No one spoke directly to him, face to face, and not many knew what he looked like to make the connection to who he was. It had to be this way. As I told you, we were identical.
“We grew up with the Espositos in the old country. Anthony was once a friend. They’re good at that, making you believe they’re innocent and trustworthy. Once Don Barbieri had my brother murdered, he stripped Anthony of everything he had here in America and had him killed to make sure his own involvement was covered up.”
“But why did Don Barbieri want my grandfather so much? You were Don.”
“As I told you. The rules meant nothing at that time. Barbieri feared who Michelangelo and I would become if allowed to establish ourselves in America and Italy. Your grandfather had power of mind and he had my ear and connections.
“We were young, my uncle named me his successor very early. Michelangelo was never meant to make it off the Sicilian Island we were from. While here, Barbieri had no control over how powerful he could become. He was known in America as Angelo. Anthony was the only one who could connect the dots—the man in charge was none other than my twin. Michelangelo had started from the shadows what you will finish.”
I sit and allow this to sink in. This is not the story I’ve heard of Anthony Esposito. Not exactly.
As it’s told, he tried to put a hit out on an underboss and Don Barbieri sanctioned his murder. Now this, the story I’ve just been given, makes more sense to me. However, I do filter through and absorb who my grandfather was.
“Riccardo was then denied the hand of Giuseppe’s sister. Barbieri didn’t much like the idea and pulled your great-grandfather’s ear. I think this was when Riccardo snapped, right around the time your great-grandfather died, and Giuseppe was named Don.
“Riccardo and his father had been plotting for years and it was all falling apart. Riccardo had already been planting the seed about your mother and his son making a match. When his father was whacked, he pushed the suggestion more. Then you were born a few years later.
“But I wasn’t Frances’s son.”
“Good, you are with me. Your father and I hadn’t seen each other since he was about two at this point. He was working for the Cipriani family like his father. Battista Cipriani had pulled my brother in and allowed him to grow in power. He had been keeping an eye on his grandson from a distance as well. If you were in the families, you knew not to touch Lucas Di Rienzo.
“Your mother has always come to me for advice. As her godfather—”
“Wait, what? Her godfather? Come on, what else don’t I know? Marone. You people are like a fucking soap opera,” I mutter, cutting him off.