His Identity

22

|Nick's POV|

I am going to beat the living shit out of someone.

To death. Literally.

Aveline said that's what she'd do so it's the most logical thing to do considering the fact that she is not someone who'd act irrationally. It's normal. It's what everyone would've done and it's what I'm gonna do.

Except the death part, of course. I've grown up in family where people are killed on a weekly— if not daily basis. For me, killing is normal. I've seen men drop dead right in front of my eyes at the age of four or something.
I'm used to it. I've been used to it since I was around that age. Some might say that it's fucked but really, it's not. Not when your parents practically own the criminal industry.

"Nicholas De Luca."

I cringe at the name. It's been three years since I'm hearing someone call me that. It sounds weird and foreign like it's not my name.

"Shut up." I have to refrain myself from rolling my eyes.

Ryver snickers. I only let him come along because I don't know what to expect.

Paulo usually lives in his own home with aunt Arabella who goes to visit my grandparents everyday since it's close. Izzy moved to France about two years ago, she's now the CEO of one of the most successful fashion houses ever while Rico— well I actually have absolutely no fucking idea what he's doing. But knowing him, he's probably living his life like tomorrow doesn't matter. Frederico has always been this carefree person. I used to want to be like him. Our age difference made me look up to him at some point.

But growing up, I realize that I actually don't want to be anything like him. He's ended up into so many shit and had to be bailed out of jail more times than I can count. He's irresponsible and he doesn't care about what people think of him.

"It's my life, I do whatever the hell I want to do with it," he'd say whenever his parents would bring up to topic of his recklessness.

We used to do a lot of stupid stuff together but then we stopped because he was sent to a boarding school. For some reason, his parents thought it would set him straight— change him. They've never been so wrong. Years later, they just gave up on him.

Now here I am, about to murder his father, Paulo.

I'm sitting in a car after a nine something hours flight from Chicago to Italy where my target is. My parents aren't here though which is great. They're still in America. But my grandparents and the others are here, in Italy.

The car is parked right in front of Paulo's house. It's around 6:00 pm and from what I know, aunt Arabella doesn't return home until 7:00 which means we have an hour to get this shit done before she comes back. Or if she's there then I guess she'll just have to sit and watch her darling nephew murder her husband.

No big deal.

God, I sound psychotic and I've got only three people to blame for that; my mom, Alessio and Athena.

"Am I getting paid for this?" His question, for some reason, doesn't surprise me at all.

I turn to look at him. He flashes me a grin and raises his brows expectantly, "so? Yes?"