The Boy Who Became Don

r sat in a large armchair, receiving his men. They came to him,

whiskey, his eyes scanning the room, missing nothing. He was chari

ted to hear the stories. The r

at the edge of the crowd, observing. She was beautiful, bu

r. Their eyes were hard. They saw her as a rem

nner. For the inner circle only. The ca

bungalow," he said, his voice a

ask of obedience. She looked at

rned and walked away, her bac

th cigar smoke and the smell of whiskey. Th

table, ignored. I was just

spoke. He just listened, h

e of anger. She was devoted to my father, and he treated her

t. All eyes turned to me. Even

," I said, my voice shaki

k Sinatra. There's a line she always hums. 'S

w it

les went white around his glass. He looked

pushed his chair back, stood u

ace a thundercloud. The dinner co

se was finally quiet. I got out of bed and

rd my mother's bungalow. I

oser, I hea

r. And

sound I had never heard before. It was

rt pounding. I carefully peek

dimly lit by

there. And s

e was holding her. She was wrapped in his arms, her

embrace. It was not the embrace

isper her name

el

emotion. "I've thought ab

face wet with tears, but she was

e kiss

the window, my hand clamped over

tered. My moth

ray

eaming. The image was burned into my brai

fied. I was

s a liar. And the legendary brother