Page 143 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

S ofia did a masterful job.

She brought up nearly everything.

Every attack, every incident – the Turk, Mezzasalma, the theft of our funds.

And in doing so, she aired out Fausto’s dirty laundry before I could.

She allowed everyone to get over the shock of the worst of his treachery – and she painted a picture where he was the innocent party, falsely blamed by his greedy nephews.

For instance:

“I understand your brother Leonardo died last year,” she said at one point.

Fausto looked dejected. “Yes… yes, it was incredibly sad. I thought it was a heart attack – we all did – but apparently, an old servant woman wormed her way into our household and gave him an injection of a deadly drug. It was revenge for Leo ordering her husband and son killed years ago in Sicily.”

At the mention of ‘Sicily,’ the vast majority of dons got a knowing look on their face.

You killed a Sicilian woman’s family?!

No wonder she sought revenge!

Then Fausto’s expression turned to anger.

“But I’ve heard my nephews blame me. That I somehow placed her in the household and told her to give my brother an injection. That’s how greedy they are. They want to claw back the territory I inherited when my brother died, so they invent lies about me murdering him.”

I snorted when he said the territory I inherited.

Anything he had, he possessed because my brothers and I gave it to him. He had been owed nothing. His territory, his property – it had all been a gift.

Back then, we were too blind to see what a vicious traitor he was.

Sofia’s next question was a humdinger.

“Are you willing to swear on something holy to you that you had nothing to do with your brother’s death?” she asked.

“I am,” Fausto said. He looked around the room at all the other dons. “I swear on my son Aurelio’s soul that I had nothing to do with Leonardo’s death.”

On the one hand, I was shocked he would profane his son’s memory with an outright lie.

But then… for the briefest of seconds… even I began to question.

Maybe he DIDN’T have anything to do with Papa’s death.

Then I remembered who I was dealing with.

Unfortunately, I knew most of the dons in the room actually believed him.

When Fausto made his false oath, Adriano could barely restrain his fury. My brother was visibly trembling in his chair.

However, Dario held up a hand to quiet him, which kept him in check – although he still glowered and gnashed his teeth.

Sofia dispatched all the other issues just as neatly.

The Turk?

That was just a business deal that went south. Hell, even the Genoans had been working with him!

Mezzasalma?

An ambitious Sicilian looking to spread out into new territory. Nothing more. Mezzasalma was the one who had killed the Agrellas in Florence. Fausto had nothing to do with it.

All the money that was drained from our bank accounts?

“I have no idea who took it, but it wasn’t me,” Fausto said with an air of indignant innocence.

I didn’t think he was convincing, but there was another danger:

If the other dons thought even some of the accusations were true, then Fausto looked INCREDIBLY clever.

To do all that and leave no proof of his involvement?!

Astounding!

Not every don in the Cosa Nostra was smart.

I knew some of them were thinking, How do I get him on MY side?!

They didn’t realize that a viper who was willing to strike at his own family was more than willing to betray them.

Even if they did think Fausto was guilty, the stupidest dons thought so highly of themselves that they believed they could control him.

The truth was, no one could control such a devious bastard.

Fausto would eat them alive before they even realized they were in danger.

Not only was she dismantling all my talking points, but Sofia was doing an excellent job of besmirching me and my brothers.

She painted us as greedy, conniving, disrespectful assholes who sought to slander and destroy the man who had helped raise them.

Again and again, she suggested (but never quite said outright) that we were the ones attacking our own family members –

Quite a reversal from Fausto being the one who had murdered Papa and tried to kill us!

Then Sofia came to the part that could do her the most damage.

And again, she handled it masterfully.

“It is not in dispute that Donna Fioretti, the mafiosa of Venice, was attacked in her home by Russian mercenaries,” Sofia said to Fausto.

“It is also not in dispute that her granddaughter was kidnapped by a bounty hunter named Friedrich Zollner, who was hired by your son, Aurelio.

“Finally, it is not in dispute that Lucia Fioretti was held hostage by Zollner and Aurelio on the Isle of San Michele.”

Sofia’s voice softened with sympathy. “I should note that it was on San Michele that your son met his death at the hands of your nephew, Massimo Rosolini. That is not in dispute, either.”

She paused, and the room was absolutely silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“The opposing side wants everyone to believe that Aurelio was following your orders until the moment he died. What do you have to say about this?”

Fausto’s entire demeanor changed.

Just a moment ago, he had been an outraged uncle.

Now, he was a grieving father who had lost his only son.

“I failed Aurelio,” he said, his eyes brimming with tears. “My wife died when he was very young. Because of that, I never laid a hand on my son as punishment. In retrospect, I probably should have.

“Some would say he was spoiled. He was definitely headstrong… and ambitious. He wanted power… money… status. I think he was influenced by my nephews, with whom he grew up. Their worst impulses rubbed off on him.”

I snorted again.

If Aurelio’s bad qualities came from anyone, they came from Fausto himself.

But it was a devious way to paint us, yet again, as the villains of the story.

“Most of all,” Fausto continued, “I think Aurelio wanted respect. My respect… and the respect of the entire Cosa Nostra. I believe this insane plot against Donna Fioretti was Aurelio’s misguided attempt to get that respect.

“I do not wish to speak ill of my son, but… it’s possible that he was the one who stole my nephews’ money. Probably to fund the Russian mercenaries. If that is the truth, I bitterly regret that he did it. But I had no part in the attack on Donna Fioretti or her granddaughter.”

“So… Aurelio acted without your knowledge?” Sofia asked.

“Completely. I would have never agreed to such actions against another family – not without serious provocation, which was not the case here.

“And I would have never done something so incredibly stupid as a full-blown attack against one of the most powerful families in the Cosa Nostra – especially not in broad daylight, with the entire world watching.”

Well… that part was true, at least.

Aurelio had gone rogue; I was almost sure of it.

And Sofia had turned that to Fausto’s advantage.

“In the end, it was stupid of him… but…” Fausto began to sob. “He was my boy. My only son. And now I’ve lost him forever.”

My uncle was convincing. I’d give him that.

And I would never argue he wasn’t truly feeling the emotions he showed as he spoke.

There is something movie directors tell actors about traumatic memories:

Use them.

Use them to make their performances that much more compelling.

Fausto definitely used his emotions to sell his lies and half-truths.

Interestingly, I noticed that he never went after Massimo for killing Aurelio.

Perhaps Fausto didn’t want to draw further attention to his son’s naked aggression against the Widow.

Also, railing at Massimo would detract from his ‘grieving father’ routine.

Might cost him some sympathy from the other dons.

In the end, his performance might have been enough to sway the jury.

Might have been…

If I hadn’t been allowed to question him.

As I said, Sofia brought up nearly everything.

But not quite everything.