"They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul."
He was the hated, the feared, the worshipped, the admired: one of the greatest men of all time, he was the son of a mafia boss and the would-be next boss of the Family. His disposition wasn't pleasant, however. To the contrary, he believed himself to be the best, the king. Yet he attracted followers like moths to a flame.
He refused to eat anything but the best: everything in his house was tailor-made to his very fine and specific tastes. No one worth less than a million Euros was even allowed to look at his mansion, let alone enter the premises.
Even his father's lackey's feared him and his vast ambition. He wanted it all: money… fame… power… and he refused to settle for anything less. Even when a cousin was chosen as heir to their great fortune, he refused to acknowledge the other, instead quietly gathering followers and planning another coup-d'état.
Everyone feared him for the rage, the unstoppable and never-ending anger that fueled his ambition, that gave him the power to destroy the adversary. They feared him for the great wrath that came from being betrayed.
He was the true heir, the son of the previous boss. Yet his weak cousin had been chosen instead. His father had led him to believe that he, the powerful and prodigal son, was the next boss. After a while, he had thrown him aside to make room for a naïve brat from a totally different country.
And as his anger grew, so too did his sorrow, though the latter was never revealed. He was too proud, too powerful to let a weakness such as sadness affect him. Only the rage could be seen: everything else remained hidden from the rest of the world.
Even though they saw him daily, no one knew. No one could guess at the pain he hid so well. Not even his loyal followers and his many admirers – no, worshippers – could see his pain, his misery. He even had himself fooled for a time, but even after he finally admitted that he had more sorrow than anger, he refused to change, to reveal the truth for fear of being betrayed again. His followers chose him for his wrath: it was who he was. Without it, who was he?
He was the adopted son of the ninth boss. No one knew about any of his emotions except for the most dangerous: wrath. No one knew because after the day that fact was revealed, no one could look him in the eyes.