Page 61 of Mafia Scars

He sighed and released the grip he had on my arm, allowing me to leave.

I went for the back exit through the kitchen. That took me out onto the grounds of the mansion.

I hadn’t seen the whole of Luc’s place yet, but I imagined it would be similar to this, what we had here.

What I used to have.

I dashed through the garden and into the little gazebo with the garden swing. I used to come out here to think when I was little.

I’d spend hours out here just going over dance routines and steps. Other things too.

Here I was again.

It looked the same. I sunk down onto the hard wood of the swing and kicked the ground behind to spark some momentum.

Resting my head against the long brown, entwined vines, I began to think.

The only decision here that was right was the one that worked best.

I couldn’t bear the fact of Luc going to prison. So, the right way was their way.

No cops and feds? We take it in hand.

That was why we were here.

Here in Chicago.

To do things their way. I closed my eyes and took it all in. My body grew heavier, and I could have drifted off to sleep right here. My old college professor said once that mental stress could drain you in a way that made you feel like you’d just run a marathon.

That was how I felt now. As if I’d been running around non-stop on the longest marathon. Body fully engrossed in it, as was my mind.

What I had to do was accept things for what they were. That was the hurdle I had to jump over.

This wasn’t about being a criminal or not.

Back then, when everything had come to a head and I’d found out the truth about my father, he was doing what he thought was best to protect me. There was no way that I was condoning his behavior, but his way had worked for a long time. It bought years of the freedom I’d sought.

It would have continued to keep me from here, until someone spoke and unleashed a secret that put a target on my back.

What I needed to do now was push my worries and concerns to the back of my mind.

Just to sort out this mess. Then I could pick up all the pieces later.

I could deal with my inner demons later.

After all, my father was sick, and who knew how long he had left.

Did I want to spend the rest of his days pushing against him, hating him and this way of life?

No… it wasn’t in me.

I thought of Luc too. He’d said days ago that he did what he had to do, whether it was right or wrong. We’d been talking about how Sinclaire always did the right thing.

I’d thought at the time that the two men were so different. Now their differences were truly sinking in.

Neither was bad, but they came from different worlds.

They had different ways of doing things that protected the ones they loved.