Twisted Obsession

23 - Inheritance

Lorenzo Vincelli

I knock on the door of my mother's house. My sister opens the door, blocking the way. Anger replaced her usual soft expression "Stronzo, ti presenti quando ne hai voglia, perché cazzo dovrei lasciarti entrare?" She crosses her arms across her chest, challenging and scolding me.[Translation: Asshole, you show up when you feel like it why the fuck should I let you in?]

"Gianna, mi dispiace. Fammi entrare, vuoi, per favore?"
[Translation: Gianna, I am sorry. Let me in, will you, please?]

"Scusa, culo mio." She mumbles, slamming the door in my face. I sigh, looking down at my watch when the door opens again.
[Translation: Sorry, my ass.]

I looked up to see my brother, Alessio who had a smile on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. He breaks out in a laugh. "Shut up." I tell him, walking past him. I place my suit over the couch. "Mama?" I called out.

The house was quiet, apart from the occasional creak of old wood and the distant hum of the city beyond. I could hear my mother's soft voice from the kitchen, a low murmur as she spoke with one of the relatives. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a small comfort amidst- well, everything to be honest.

"Mama," I called out again, my voice steady but tinged with the fatigue of the day. My sister's anger was understandable, but it didn't make it any easier.

She emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her eyes, red-rimmed from tears, softened when they met mine. "Lorenzo, finalmente sei arrivato."
[Translation: Lorenzo, you have finally arrived.]

I stepped forward, enveloping her in a gentle hug. "Mi dispiace, Mama. È stato un giorno lungo."
[Translation: I'm sorry, Ma. It's been a long day.]

She nodded, patting my back before pulling away. "Lo so, tesoro. Lo so."
[Translation: I know, darling. I know.]

Gianna and Alessio joined us, the tension between my sister and me still palpable. But now wasn't the time for family squabbles. We had to start heading to the airport if we wanted to be on time for my father's funeral.

The drive to the airport was somber only because Gianna and my mum didn't know the truth about dad. The reality of the situation hung over them like a dark cloud, the silence broken only by the occasional sniffle or sigh by mum.

We reached the airport, the hum of activity a sharp contrast to the somber mood that hung over our family. Our private family jet waited on the tarmac, a sleek, silver aircraft that seemed almost out of place against the backdrop of the ordinary commercial planes.

My mother, still clutching her rosary, walked ahead with Gianna supporting her. Alessio and I followed, with the airport staff carrying our luggages. The airport staff greeted us with quiet respect, their eyes filled with sympathy as they ushered us through the private terminal.

"Enzo," Alessio said, breaking the silence as we walked. "Do you think everything will go smoothly in Palermo? "Don't worry about it, Alessio. Riccardo can't pull any of his tricks when he's getting tortured by Federico."

We boarded the plane, the luxurious interior a stark reminder of the power and wealth my father had amassed. Plush leather seats, polished wood paneling, and soft ambient lighting created an atmosphere of understated elegance. I mean it was only 25 million which is just pocket change but I guess it was something. I took a seat by the window, looking out at the runway as the engines roared to life.

My mother settled into her seat with a sigh, her eyes closed as she whispered a silent prayer. Gianna sat beside her, her face a mask of stoic determination. Alessio took the seat across from me, his expression unreadable.