Dark Horse (A Mafia Story)

2. 13 Years Later

"This is such a pretty ring!" Ciara mused in awe, shifting the accessory from hand to hand as the twelve-year-old watched the silver ring glint in the sun. Elena smiled at her daughter, shutting her jewellery box and making her way to the bed that the young girl was slumped over. Typical Sundays at the Rivera household looked like this, where the mother would sort out her closet, the daughter would ambush her large jewellery collection, and the father would appear at the door with a look of mock hurt at being left out of the interesting conversations.

Sunday, when Hector would stay away from his hectic schedule at his law firm, Ciara would be off from school, and Elena would be away from her job. A job she had been obsessed with for ten years, but then, after due deliberations with her husband and her mentor, had quit.

Nine years after Elena's resignation, the weekends with her family had been a lot more carefree. There had been no worries about when the next arms consignment would be delivered, no last minute bookkeeping for the don's new acquisitions. And no fear of another death threat directed at her family by the Italian mafia.

"Where is this from, mama?" Ciara enquired, turning the silver ring in her hands and glancing at Elena. The jewellery piece bore an ornate horse's head engraved on the front with a flowing mane, while a pair of initials - E.M. - was inscribed on the other side. Her mother gently took possession of the ring and turned it over between her fingers.

"This" Elena began, a soft smile of recognition. "Is from where I used to work, many many years ago."

"They gave you customised rings at your workplace?" the girl asked in mild disbelief, already envisioning the glamorous office space her mother would have worked at.

"Well, yes. It was a much more fun alternative to the bleak identity tags they make you wear at those corporate offices," Elena replied matter-of-factly.

"Which your papa would know all about," she added with a grin.

"I want to work at such a fun place when I grow up," Ciara stated, tilting her head in consideration as she settled on her future career. To a twelve-year old, all that glittered did seem like gold, and a shining silver ring with her initials seemed to give the kid enough incentive to work at any company.

"Certainly not," a voice came from the door as Hector walked in. He exchanged a brief glance at his wife before smiling in amusement at his daughter.

"Being an accountant is a lot of work, Cia. Trust me, you'd never have the time to write that book about the detective you always wanted to write."

The girl crossed her arms and fell back down on the bed with an audible huff. Her parents had always dissuaded her from taking an active interest in Elena's old job, which made the kid all the more certain that her mother had been some sort of secret agent or spy, with awe-inspiring skills like those talented martial arts experts in movies.

"Besides," Elena chimed in, closing her jewellery box and turning her gaze to the sprawled figure on the bed.

"You'd need a lot of maths classes to be an accountant."

And that had been the end of Ciara's wish to bag her mother's job. Beautiful ring or not, nothing could make her take extra classes for the soulless subject.

Yet, something had troubled Hector as he had led Ciara out of the room that afternoon and caught his wife gazing at the ornate Mafia ring. She had taken a moment before she carefully placed it back in the velvet case, and something told the man that a memory had been stirred in her mind. One that he wasn't keen on having resurfaced.

That troubling feeling had only grown in the four years that followed.

Elena had walked into the house one evening, shedding her blazer on the sofa. Hector's car had been in the driveway already, and her husband's early arrival from his law firm had taken her by surprise.