𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝

15 | Knights and dragons

LORENZO

Inheriting the Italian mafia from my father was something I always knew would happen. It wasn't a surprise; it was a fact of life, like the sky being blue or the sun rising every morning. My father was the head of the Italian mafia, and as the eldest son, I was next in line.

Growing up, I was trained for this role, taught to understand power, loyalty, and control. 

But something I learned along the years is that no matter how much you prepare for something, you can never truly be ready for the reality of it.When my father finally handed over the Mafia, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders.

The empire which my father, his father and my forefathers built was massive, a network of alliances, deals, and power plays that stretched far beyond what most people could imagine. It wasn't just a business—it was a way of life, a legacy passed down from one generation to the next.

But with that power came a burden I wasn't sure I was ready to carry. My mother's departure was a wound that never healed, a trauma that shaped every part of me. Her taking my sorellina with her was like I was being stabbed again  and again.

It wasn't easy. I had to grow up fast, to learn how to balance being a brother and a father figure, all while trying to deal with my own pain. I made sure they went to school, did their homework, stayed out of trouble—at least as much as I could in our world. 

But no matter what I did, I could never fill the void my mamma left behind.

The pain of her leaving never went away. It became a part of me, something I carried with me every day. 

I couldn't understand how she could just leave her children behind, how she could abandon us without a second thought. It made me question everything—my worth, my ability to trust others. 

Sometimes my mind conjures up these 'what ifs', always stuck in my mind. What is she hated us and that drove her to run away? What if i did something wrong? What if something else drove her to leave us? 

This wound followed me into my role as the head of the mafia. The trust issues, the fear of abandonment—it all influenced the way I led. I became ruthless, not because I wanted to be, but because I had to be.

I built walls around myself, not letting anyone get too close. I had to protect myself, protect my brothers, protect the empire that was handed over to me had built. But those walls came at a cost. I became isolated, closed off, even from the people I loved the most.

My brothers looked up to me, depended on me, but there was always a part of me that felt disconnected, but for my brother's sake I tried to make their childhood years as much as normal it could be in he mafia.

Taking over the mafia wasn't just about power—it was about survival. In our world, trust is a rare commodity, and I learned the hard way that it's the most dangerous weapon someone can use against you.

I trusted my mother, and she left me. I couldn't afford to make that mistake again. So, I kept people at arm's length, never letting anyone get too close, never showing the cracks in my mind.

But no matter how much power I accumulated, no matter how strong I became, there was always that part of me that was still the boy my mamma left behind. The boy who woke up one morning to find his world shattered, who had to pick up the pieces and figure out how to move on. 

I became the leader I needed to be, but the pain of her betrayal was always there, lurking in the background, reminding me of the boy I once was.

In the last 7 years, I continued to lead the mafia, I did everything in my power to protect what was mine. I made sure my brothers were safe, that the empire my father built remained strong. But no matter what I did, there was always this anxiety of losing everything I held onto.