Kids who'll pay for them anyway.
I nod slowly. "This is our life."
"This is our life," Pietro agrees. There's no emotion in his voice. No regret. Just acceptance of what we are and what we do.
We sit in silence for a moment. The fire crackles. Somewhere in the house, a clock chimes eleven.
"What are the options?" I ask. "For the arrangement."
Pietro shrugs. "Whatever Lorenzo and Nico can negotiate. Assets. Services. Future earnings." He pauses. "The Romanos don't have much left. Eraldo's gambled away most of it. The house is mortgaged. The import business is barely breaking even."
"So they have nothing."
"They have nothing."
I stare into the flames. Two million dollars. A family with nothing. A father who destroyed everything his own father built.
"Then what's the point?" I ask. "If they have nothing, they can't repay us."
Pietro doesn't answer immediately. He picks up his glass again, swirls the amber liquid, watches it catch the firelight.
The silence stretches.
I wait.
Finally, he sets the glass down. "We weren't going to collect money."
"Then what?"
"Labor." Pietro turns to face me fully. "The Romanos would work for us. All of them. For as long as it takes to clear the debt. The son has skills—mechanical work, some connections in the shipping industry. The father knows people, even if those people don't trust him anymore. They'd become ours."
I process this. Indentured servitude, essentially. Not unusual in our world. Debts get paid one way or another.
"That was the plan," Pietro continues. "But I have another idea."
Something in his tone makes me straighten in my chair.
"You want the Don title." It's not a question. "You made that clear. And Nico made it equally clear that you're not ready."
My hands curl around the armrests. "Nico can go fuck himself."
"Nico was right."
I open my mouth to argue, but Pietro holds up a hand.
"He was right about your anger. About your control. About the fact that you'd lead with rage instead of strategy." Pietro's voice is calm. Measured. The voice of a Don delivering judgment. "But he was wrong about one thing. You can change. You can prove yourself."
"How?" The word comes out rough. Bitter.
"By doing what's asked of you." Pietro moves closer, stops a few feet from my chair. "By showing this family—and everyone watching—that you can follow before you lead. That you can be trusted."
I stare at him. "You want me to take orders."
"I want you to earn the position." His eyes bore into mine. "Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I asked to become Don while one of my brothers lay in a coma and my other brother died? I've been tested every single day since I took this seat. By our enemies. By our allies. By our own family." He gestures toward the door.
"Nico questions every decision I make. Lorenzo smooths over the messes. Valentino watches from Sicily, waiting to see if I'll fail. And I do it anyway. I prove myself anyway. Because that's what leadership requires."
The fire pops. Sparks fly up the chimney.
