The Night Queen

Chapter 1

c h a p t e r     o n e

1976, Fall
New York City

"Dad, may I borrow this book?" asked by a beautiful lady named Estella Herrera as she stormed in the office after spending some teatime with her mother and took the book from a chocolate-colored painted bookshelf. "What is that book called?" Hermano Herrera asked. "The Devil's Wings? I saw it when I was waiting for you last night and I just couldn't take it without your permission."

His eyes grew wary. "I'm sure there are other better books other than that. You can try War and Peace," he suggested. "Ooh! Tolstoy. But why? It seemed interesting. This book." Before he could answer, a knock on the door disturbed them. It was his wife, Bella Herrera. He denoted her face that appeared to be something unpleasant. He took the book from his daughter and went outside with her.

There were men in his living room when they got there. "Do me a favor, go to your room and stay there." He told his daughter and though she was rather confused, she did what she was told. Bella's heart couldn't seem to settle for she knows what is this all about. The most of her worries were from the fact that a seemingly strange and dangerous man was inside her home where their daughter lives. The only place she wants to feel like her husband was not a dangerous man himself. Yet, her dream home was crushed in just seconds.

Then, a man in his 50s wearing a white prestigious clothing from his shoes up to his hat, came in the room with a cigarette in his mouth. "Hello, Goose," he said. Rafael Scott, one of the caporegimes of Don Carlo Gambino and eventually the succeeding years. Goose was Hermano's code name.

"We have a lot of things to catch up," he said. Hermano looked at his wife before he decided to leave with the man. "Don't worry. He's in good hands," the man said to the wife and they left. She couldn't breathe. She held her chest as she struggles to walk upstairs. Even if she knew that they can't hurt them according to the Omertà, the code of silence.

"There are three ways of doing things around here," he stated in a rather more friendly yet with a sense of danger. "The right way, the wrong way, and the way that they do it."

"It's nothing." He assured him. "If you kept the skim, though you are a godfella, Don Carlo will send you to sleep with the fishes."

"Just give me two years," he pleaded. "Okay. I'm generous enough to give you that after your failed operation. Nonetheless, all operations will proceed as planned.  Yeah, well, goodluck goombah. You don't want to be un saccente around us."

*

"Haven't I warned you? This is getting out of hand. Your daughter and I will leave for Paris tomorrow instantly," she stated between her fury. "It was one of the associates. That f-cking whistle-blower!"

"Honey, listen to me. Two years, two years is all I got to fix this. Please," he begged. She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sick of everything you do."

2 years later
1978, Winter
New York City

Estella stayed in the car after his father left with a group of people. She was lovely in her knee-length green skirt and a plain musty green pullover. Her hair was hanging on her shoulder in a simple braid. Here, she noticed a handsome young man on the other side of the road. He was drinking a cup of hot coffee as smoke comes from his mouth. He caught her staring at him and so she looked away. She could feel the heat rose to her cheeks.