La Regina: Nicola |18+|

4. Hard Decision

Nicola

After Giorgio dropped the bomb the other day, I began my own research. I looked into my father's account to find he was consistently sending money to one account in particular. The pattern was random. It could be once in three months or twice a year, but that account kept popping out.

Ella Davis.

Davis was my grandmother's maiden name.

Coincidence?

I didn't fucking think so.

I was tempted to do something reckless. Something insanely outrageous to pour my frustration. To confront my family.

Did Cesco know the whole time?

Father, I could handle his lies, but my brother?

There was a feeling I didn't feel for a long time. It passed the embarrassement and humiliation of being left in the dark. Something similar like a knife in my guts.

And it stung so badly.

After my failed attempt to take a nap, tossing and turning on bed for over an hour, I chose to grab my coat and headed outside.

Fresh cold air engulfed me. Distracted by my own thoughts, I walked aimlessly for some time until I found myself standing by the familiar building.

I strode inside without hesitation. The receptionist didn't question me as I passed her on the front desk, going straight to the private elevator. It's the only access to the highest floor.

I punched a string number of passcode, got my fingerprint and face scanned before it granted the access up to the penthouse. Where the Don resided and slept peacefully.

Nothing changes from the room interior. It still stood grand and extremely neat like the last time I remembered. Though I had not stepped into his penthouse for more than six months.

Unlike him, I knew about boundaries.

I ascended the stairs to his room. It was three in the morning, but I needed to let out some anger. Or another kind of foreign emotions. I was betrayed and lied to.

If Vitto was involved, I would go rampage.

He was a few people that knew the backstory. The truth and my secret.

He shouldn't wander alive if he was really backstabbing me.

A soft click on his door woke him up instantly, but I had already been by the bed when he sat straight holding his gun.

"Nicola?"

He sounded rather confused when he found me in his room. Me standing here was so out of character.

He flicked on his bedside lamp until the dark no longer surrounded us. So, he still slept with no shirt on. His body was carved with years of workouts. His arms were fully tattooed with various objects and wording, yet I wondered if he had had my name erased from his right wrist.

I glanced at his hand.

Obviously, not yet.

"I can't sleep." It was not entirely a lie, but I still thought it was a lame excuse.