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He croaks out a laugh. “I remember all too well. When will you be back to Catania to visit? Many in the family are asking about you.”

“You know better than to ask that as we near the end of the year. I prefer warmer weather when I go.”

“Ovviamente.”

“To what do I owe the honor, Smoky?”

“You can imagine how closely the Don looks at our operations. He’s been hearing things about the Tucos in Newport. He wanted to make sure you could handle it.”

“What would make him believe otherwise?”

“Rafael,figlio, we have always been impressed by your success. You have outdone yourself and surpassed what we thought,” he boasts among the sizzling hiss from his cigar. “But you come from simple beginnings. You were raised differently. You do not have the lifestyle in your blood the way others do. We are concerned missteps could be made.”

Heat creeps up the back of my neck. I grit my teeth and urge myself to remain calm.

Collected.

It’s what’s gotten me as far as I have.

I’m smarter than they are. Better than they are. Even if they don’t see it.

They believe they can use me as some Manchurian candidate. A marionette while they pull the strings from behind the scenes. I play the part of Il Diavolo to the masses and they reap the fruit of my labor, wielding all the power.

But Anthony’s wrong. The whole family is wrong.

After all these years, they still don’t know who they’re dealing with.

“Smoky Tony, isn’t that what they used to call you?” I ask, forcing a humorous tone. “The story of you burning down Don Vito’s villa when you were a caporegime is infamous. And very amusing. Some would say a misstep that only a simpleton could make. But we all know you are much more than that.”

He takes my joke in stride, cackling at the story that’s become a legend in our circles. “Yes,cazzo, that was a very big misstep that I paid for. So who better to listen to than me? Save yourself the trouble.”

“I appreciate the concern. But rest assured nothing will burn down while I’m overseeing the affairs here. I have everything under control. The Bellucci empire has re-entered its golden age.”

“The Don may need more than reassurances to believe it, Rafael.”

“The Don is more than welcome to visit his old stomping grounds himself.”

Our conversation ends with me bidding Anthony goodbye, reminding him I have important business to tend to that goes beyond the Bellucci name. I have an empire in my own right. A self-made force to be reckoned with known as Rafael Calderone, one of the most successful businessmen in the world.

As consigliere, Anthony’s often Don Vito’s mouthpiece, and while I respect my elders, there’s always been a bitter thread between us. He wanted his son Anthony Jr. to be the Don’s representation in Newport. Others wanted Vito’s nephew Vincenzo.

I was chosen above the rest.

Some kid from the slums.

Some pick pocketer who came from nothing but sticks and dirt.

It kills them a little bit on the inside every time I come out on top. I defy the odds and succeed.

Anthony and the others can throw my simple beginnings in my face all they want to; they can remind me how I don’t have thecosa nostrarunning through my blood like they do.

But I will make sure to show them it no longer matters.

Il Diavolo or Rafael Calderone, it doesn’t fucking matter anymore.

I and I alone am the cosa nostra now.

My driver finally maneuvers through Newport traffic and pulls up outside the Metro News Headquarters.