𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⚔︎

1

just days after the massacre, giovanni was promoted to captain. now settled amongst the ranks of some of the lavigne family's most respected men, he was getting paid a big buck; a bigger buck than he could ever have fathomed. he never liked to tell the actual amount, but from the looks of things, he was slinging home anywhere between two or three grand per week.

although he appreciated the money, giovanni felt that it was an absurd amount to be giving to someone, especially him. he didn't feel like he deserved it all that much, and besides, he didn't really need it. of course, it was nice having money left over once he had payed his bills — he could buy better food from the market, he could get some new swanky cashmere suits, flashier jewellery, etcetera, etcetera. he could even save for a vacation abroad! but he just couldn't decide on what to do with it all. superficial things never really interested him — what he didn't spend or save, he sent back home to berezenki and portoferraio in sealed, stamped envelopes for his mother and father.

he had managed to send an astounding $5,000 over to his parents — each — which he didn't get away with so easily. not with his mother, at least.

one morning, sofia was looking through the mail before she took the kids to school. she flicked through all of the letters for antonio and put them on the kitchen counter, before she came across one addressed to her: upon recognising giovanni's scraggly handwriting on the front and the american stamp in the top left corner, her face instantly lit up.

upon opening the letter, her jaw dropped as she drew out a thick wad of cash. she quickly gasped as she felt the weight of the money in her hands, counting through it with a furrowed brow. hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds.

"antonio!" she yelled, her voice sounding throughout the entire house.

"che cosa?!" he answered from the garden. what?!

"che ore sono a new york?!" what time is it in new york?!

"umm..." a short silence followed. "le due del mattino!" two in the morning!

sofia huffed and walked over to the phone on the opposite wall. valentin and isabella came running down the hallway from where they had been waiting in the porch, their school bags swinging from their shoulders. isabella tugged on her mother's dress and stared up at her in desperation.

"mama! we're going to be late!" she wailed.

sofia ignored her pleading and dialled her eldest's phone number.

valentin groaned as he watched her press the little buttons. "mama—"

sofia clicked her fingers sternly and pointed at them both. "cinque minuti! aspetta cinque minuti. devo chiamare tuo fratello." five minutes! wait five minutes. i need to call your brother.

antonio had been right — it was in fact two o'clock in the morning. over four thousand miles away, giovanni's apartment was swathed in darkness and he was fast asleep, his blanket pulled over him as he snoozed soundly. at the sudden sound of the phone ringing, he roused himself awake and sat up in bed, feeling for the phone on the nightstand. its incessant bleating annoyed him greatly, especially at this hour.

rubbing his eyes, he put the phone up to his ear. "...hello?"

"giovanni volkov," sofia began, crossing her arms. she motioned for valentin and isabella to wait in the car, to which they complied to her orders with great impatience. she lowered her tone. "i need to talk to you."

whatever her reason for calling, he knew it was not going to be good. his mother never, ever used his full name — even the word volkov was still enough to make her shiver.