Page 4 of Mafia Scars

“Why? What if I went to the cops now and told them it was you?” I didn’t care anymore. My father had been the apple of my eye. My hero. My parents to me were the best a girl could ask for, and they’d treated me as if I was the most important thing in their world. My father had, however, managed to destroy the vision, showing me it was all a façade.

“I don’t care about me. I care about you. There is more to this that you will not understand. You can hate me if you want, but I will protect you until the day I die. I will love you until I draw my last breath. All I ask is that you don’t ask anyone any questions, and you mustn’t speak of any concerns you have.”

At that I started sobbing. “Dad…She died because of you?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

He shook his head, and a solemn expression filled his face. “No, amore mio. No. The less you know, the better. It will protect you. I would rather have you hate me than know the truth.”

“The guns, the deaths. Uncle Antonio and Cousin Bernardo died by guns too. Are we part of the mafia?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.

The sound of the front door being opened with force and footsteps interrupted us.

Three large men wearing black suits rushed inside. They had the standard criminal look. Hardened and fierce.

“Boss, we have trouble. Tag needs your help. There’s a fed on...” The man stopped talking when he saw me.

The look on my father’s face immediately chastised him.

“Boss?” I breathed, barely audible, but Dad heard me.

“Go to your room, Amelia, and stay there.”

“We buried Mom today. I need you.” Fresh tears streamed down my cheeks.

“I’ll be back. Go to your room and stay there. Go,” he barked.

I moved, leaving them, but I stopped at the top of the stairs and listened.

“Feds are asking questions, and Tag needs your help to get out of town,” the man who’d been speaking before continued.

“I’ll arrange transport,” Dad replied. “Did you get the agents on the list?”

“All dead except Peterson.”

“Leave Peterson to me. He’s mine. I’ll cut off his head myself for his carelessness.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth. Dad was talking about killing someone.

I watched them walk into the passageway ready to leave. Dad was the last one. He stopped, almost instinctively, and looked up the stairs toward me.

I was standing at the top, where the banister curved to go on the next rung of steps. It was a place where I could have hidden better if I’d gone more into the curve, but I’d failed to do that. So, he saw me. He saw me and gave me a hardened look, knowing I’d listened in on the conversation.

He cut his eyes away from me and continued with the men, closing the door behind him.

I went back to my room, looked out the window, and saw a host of men standing outside. While some went away in the cars, some stayed and stood on guard at the entrance to the drive.

Guarding the house, guarding me.

* * *

I cried myself to sleep and stayed in my room for the next two days. Millicent came by on several occasions trying to get me to eat.

I refused everything.