Chapter 5

Anaya

“May I ask you a question?” I asked the man seated next to me, who was apparently my father. My hand was still in his grasp when we exited Nicolas’ office and sat in the car. We were driving somewhere, although I’m not sure where.

With a heavy Italian accent, he squeezed my hand and said, “Of course, bambino.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t somewhere dangerous.

“Home,” he whispered, tenderly smiling at me. My eyes welled up with tears. This is how my father or my uncle, I think, used to look at me. I miss them.

“Hmm... Could you tell me more about this? Right now, I’m at a loss for words,” I murmured.

“As soon as we get home, I’ll answer all of your questions. We appear to have arrived at our destination. Jacob, please go to the back door,” he said. My brow furrowed. He doesn’t want to be seen with me. That’s why he wanted Nicolas to keep me a secret. Maybe I’m not legitimate. A wave of sorrow washed over me.

We walked to his home, which appeared to be considerably larger than Nicolas’. It was a classic Italian home surrounded by a magnificent garden. I was in awe of everything. He led me into his office, where we sat across from each other.

He rubbed his hands on his black pants and said, “I know you have many questions, and I will answer them after I tell you a story, or rather memories, some of which I would rather forget. Please be patient with me, my dear. Whatever happens, please listen to the entire story before making any further decisions.”

I nodded, and he added, “I am your father. My name is Viler Costa, and I am the leader of the Costa mafia family and the Costa empire.”

My brain short-circuited as soon as he uttered the word mafia. My father is a mafia boss. I stood up and began pacing back and forth. Of course, he’s a mafia figure; otherwise, why would there be people with weapons all over? That means Nicolas belongs to the mafia. His words shook me out of my reverie, “Sit down, bambino. Stop pacing. It is hurting my brain. Your mother used to do the same.”

“Use to?” I asked while sitting.

He sighed and said, “I will clear all your doubts if you will just listen.”

I nodded, and he said, “As I previously stated, I am the boss of the Costa Mafia family and the Costa empire. Your mother worked as a manager in one of the hotels I run. I walked to the hotel where she worked one day and tried to check in without following through with the formalities. But your mother, being the spitfire that she was, did not like it and pushed me to finish the formalities without recognizing I was the owner,” he chuckled, his eyes holding that dreamy expression that revealed how much he might have loved my mother.

“That woman was stubborn as hell. As her work impressed me, I asked everyone to refrain from telling her I was the owner. The next day I asked her out, and much to my total shock, she agreed. After a few weeks of dating, I realized I was head over heels in love with your mother, but she might not accept my background. She was soon being used against me, therefore I had no choice but to tell her the truth,” he remarked.

He gazed at me with adoration as he added, “She accepted me. We married, and you blessed us all within a year. I kept running my mafia with her beside me since she was a brilliant leader. But one day, we were attacked.”

His jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened. He took a deep breath and said, “That was the most heinous attack on any mafia family ever. We were attacked at our home, and they slaughtered my people one by one. Since I was stretched thin, I urged your mother to hide in the safe room in our bedroom. Without our knowledge, an enemy gang member entered the room and shot your mother. It was too late by the time I got to her. The bullet had penetrated her lung and was lodged near her heart, and you were crying in the pool of your mother’s blood. That scene continues to haunt me.” When he told me, tears were streaming down his cheeks.

When his thumb wiped beneath my eyes, I realized I was weeping as well. He attempted to smile at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We already had a plan in place in case something happened to me or your mother. My right-hand man, or Uncle Gio as you used to call him, and his wife Cara, will take you away from here to keep you safe until I exact my revenge on those who killed your mother,” he said.

This realization caused my eyes to widen; it was true that my parents were not my biological parents. However, I don't remember any of this. “We put you in our safe house in America and circulated rumors you were all dead with your mother in the attack,” he lamented.

“I received updates from Gio about you for the first few years, but after some time the updates became less frequent, and then one day they just stopped coming. I was becoming paranoid, so I flew to the safe house, which was empty. My heart was shattered.” I held his hand in mine as he closed his eyes, attempting to stop the tears.

He opened his eyes and smiled gratefully, which I returned. He sighed and added, “I assumed you were hurt, so I looked, and a neighbor reported Gio and Cara packed up in the middle of the night and left somewhere no one knew. I looked everywhere but couldn’t find you. Gio was an expert at deception and concealment. I assumed they would give you the letter I wrote and gave them in the first year you were gone, as I knew it will take me years to avenge my beloved and give you the letter on your 15th birthday. I also assumed you would want to visit me. But...” He sprang out of his chair, walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass, and swallowed it down in one shot.

He sipped on two more glasses before saying, “I still do not know why they did it. Why did they take my daughter away from me? What made them do this to me?” The anguish in his eyes crushed my heart. In addition to losing his wife, he also suffered the loss of his daughter.

“I may have answers to some of your questions,” I remarked as I took the letter written by my adoptive parents as well as the letter from my father.