It’s a hot summer day, the sun beating down on us relentlessly, and we’ve been at this for hours, but the Don has never been one to take it easy on his children, and hand-to-hand combat is critical to master. “We live in an unforgiving world,” he often says, “so to go easy on you now would only set you up for failure as men.”
At age three, the twins, Sandro and Raf, are too young for training just yet, so they watch, sitting with rapt attention beside the Don as Gio and I exchange blows.
Our world-renowned instructor is busy with Leo, tutoring him on the weak points of his last attempt to take me down.
That leaves me to spar with Gio without reprieve since I’m the oldest and the strongest—and therefore, possess the longest endurance.
Leo and Gio have been trading off as their strength wanes, but I can see it in Gio’s eyes.
He’s determined to keep up with me for as long as he can. Still, I have him on the defensive as I throw several well-aimed blows that he manages to block—just barely.
Then I finish him off with a roundhouse kick, knocking him to the ground. Ruthless, I know, but then, the punishment for holding back would be far worse—for both of us.
Ready to get back into the fray, Leo charges in with a bellow of rage, plowing into my stomach with his shoulder, not a thought wasted on his safety.
He takes me to the ground with impressive force before raining blows down on my face.
Too bad for him, at three years younger than me, he just doesn’t have the body mass to hurt me, so his fists don’t pack enough punch to break through my defenses.
Still, I stay down, using it as a momentary reprieve to catch my breath—because even if my brothers aren’t hard to beat, they sure don’t let me off easy.
Steeling myself, I roll, taking Leo to the ground as I twist, pulling him into a headlock in one fluid move.
My brother struggles, kicking against the ground and arching his back as he yanks at my arm, trying to break free.
“That’s enough,” Don Augusta commands, and I release Leo immediately.
My brother rolls off me, collapsing back onto the grass, sweaty and shirtless, just like me, as we pant for breath.
“You boys never stood a chance,” I tease as Leo and Gio sit up, grinning broadly.
“We’ll get you one of these days,” Gio insists, his eyes hopeful.
“You can try,” I taunt, reveling in my victory at the same time as I prod them playfully to improve.
“Yeah, in your dreams, Gio,” Leo says, then turns to the Don for confirmation. “Miko’s the best at everything, isn’t he, Father? He might even be as powerful as you someday.” There’s a hint of reverence in my brother’s voice that makes me grin.
I like being the oldest. Not just because that gives me the advantage of size and strength but because my brothers look up to me for it, and that honor is something I want to be worthy of. But Don Augusta’s expression tells me he’s less than thrilled by Leo’s statement.
At just seven years old, Leo doesn’t seem to pick up on the undercurrent of tension that rises from his comment.
But I do, and even if I don’t fully understand why it’s there, the disapproval in the don’s gaze is enough to make the back of my neck burn with humiliation.
Because even if the reverence my brothers show me is meant well, I can see our father doesn’t approve.
“Leo,” Don Augusta says haltingly, placing a hand on my brother’s tan shoulder. “As much as we like to think of Miko as family, he’s not one of us.
He might carry the Chiaroscuro name, but he will never earn the title of Don.
He’s here to serve and protect you, and as my true-born heir, Leo,youwill be the one who inherits our family’s empire.
So, keep that in mind next time you choose to worship the ground Miko walks upon.
He’s a rival you should strive to overcome, a tool to supportyourpower—not an idol to look up to. Is that understood?”
His words cut deep, the truth cracking something deep in my foundation, and the hot summer day suddenly feels dark, ice-cold, and achingly lonely.
I always knew I was different somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until now.
