Prologue

Giuseppe Salvatore reached across the leather seats, took a crystal tumbler from the small cabinet built into the limo, and poured himself a glass of scotch. He sat back, unbuttoned his black Brunello Cucinelli custom suit jacket and crossed one of his legs. He looked over at his somber son sitting next to him and placed a comforting hand on his knee. "Did they post the scores of your final exams?"

Damon's irritated crystalline eyes pierced his father's. "I don't think now is a good time to talk about test scores."

Giuseppe pressed his lips together in a frown and looked contemplatively into his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You have a brilliant mind, Damon. Don't let something like this get in the way of your future."

Damon wanted to take the glass out of his father's hand and throw it against the wall. His father didn't understand that he had no one left. "Who the fuck cares that I'm Magna Cum Laude?"

Stefan, sitting on the other side of Damon, pauses to laugh and shake his head. "Damon said fuck."

"Stefan!" Giuseppe admonishes. "Now's not the time."

Stefan shakes his head, chuckling to himself before going back to his handheld video game. "Now you can fucking finally kick Damon out of the house."

Damon stiffened. This is what he expected. The Salvatores didn't owe him anything and the only thing that prevented him from leaving before Giuseppe could kick him out is the fact that Giuseppe seems so invested in his future. More so since his mom died. If Damon put one toe out of line or didn't make a perfect score on his exams or didn't marry Elizabeth Tate, as his Giuseppe planned, he figured Giuseppe would have no excuse but to kick him out of the family.

Knowing exactly what Damon was thinking, Giuseppe poured another tumbler of scotch and handed it to him. "You're my son, just as much as Stefan," he said with such sincerity, Damon almost believed him. "You were just a boy, not much younger than Stefan when I married your mother. I loved your mom. Not just because she's the mother of both of my sons, but because she brought light into my life. You are part of that light, Damon."

It was barely eleven o'clock in the morning, but Damon drank the tumbler of thousand dollar scotch. As CEO of Salvatore Investments, a trillion dollar company that's been around since the Rockefellers built New York, Giuseppe wasn't one to mince words. Rumors circulated that the reason a former employee of Salvatore Investments jumped off the Mystic Bridge was because Giuseppe insulted his marketing presentation, calling it juvenile and a waste of his and the company's time and resources. Giuseppe's comforting words to Damon sounded foreign coming from the business tycoon's lips. Even though Damon had never felt comfortable calling Giuseppe, Dad, this was the first time in his life he felt like he had one.

When the limo came to a stop both Giuseppe and Damon knocked back their glasses of amber liquid. Stefan's green eyes remained focused on his game. "It's time, sons."

Damon nodded, ready to walk to the gravesite where hundreds of his mother's friends and admirers were waiting to say goodbye, but before he could leave the limo, Stefan chucked the hand-held game across the limo. Splinters of plastic scattered over the leather seats. Damon stared at the dent the game left in the paneled wall. "I'm not fucking going," Stefan announced, folding his arms and making no attempt to leave.

At twelve, Stefan was stubborn but popular amongst his classmates at Mystic Falls Prep. With his forest-green eyes and square jaw, he looked every bit as much like his father, but he inherited Lily's magnetic personality. At that particular moment, a trait that belonged to neither his father or mother came out: spite.

Unbothered by his son's outburst, Giuseppe placed his tumbler back on the counter and buttoned his suit jacket before narrowing his eyes at his youngest son. "Stefan, you are going to get out of this limo and we're going to stand by your mother's grave as a family and say goodbye. Then we're going to accept condolences from all the people who attended. We're doing this as a family, do you understand?"

Stefan juts out his chin, but nods. Satisfied that Stefan adjusted his attitude, Giuseppe opened up the limo door. "Can I have a moment with Stefan?" Damon asked before getting out.

Giuseppe looks nervously at the waiting crowd before turning back toward Damon. "Just a minute."

Once the door closed, Damon moved in his seat so he can talk to his brother. Stefan's blue tie was loose and askew from playing video games in the limo practically upside down in his seat, and his hair was as wild as his attitude in the car. He leaned over and straightened Stefan's tie, knotting it while saying something that'd been on his mind since Lily's accident. Stefan attempted to push Damon away, but being twelve years older and more than a foot taller made Stefan's attempts to get away from his older brother laughable. "I know you're the one that found mom and I'm sure that was incredibly scary and traumatizing but you can't take your anger out on Giuseppe."

"He's not your dad," Stefan spits out. "Why do you care?"

Damon nods, finishing the Windsor knot before tightening it and straightening the white-collar of Stefan's shirt. "You're right, he's not, which means he needs you right now."

Understanding registered in Stefan's eyes. He buttoned his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, attempting to comb it with his fingers into a part. "Fine," he muttered.

Seeing his brother hurriedly fix his clothing in the back of the limo, Damon opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it, opened the car door, and got out to stand beside Giuseppe. Once Stefan was out of the car, the three Salvatores walked together toward the crowd of people in black sitting on white plastic chairs.

The weather didn't match Damon's mood. It had been raining for weeks, but today was the first sunny day, marking the end of spring and the start of summer. God had a cruel sense of humor. Those who have gathered for the service are wearing sunglasses and fanning themselves with the memorial program. Birds chirped while the pastor made cliched remarks about death. Damon wished he could leave. He'd rather be in the Harvard library, getting a head start on the required reading for the MBA program he'd be starting in the fall. He gazed out at the crowd of people in attendance. The Salvatores put on great parties and based on the attendees' attire, they thought a funeral was an extension of that.

After words were spoken by those who loved Lily, Damon and Stefan stand up and make their way toward the grave. Tears streamed down Stefan's cheeks as he gathered dirt in his shaky hand and tossed it on the mahogany casket. Damon didn't think about how his life was going to change after that day. He didn't think about how he'd lost the woman who came to every cross country and track meet. The woman who spent hours in that dingy studio apartment, the first place Damon remembered living, patiently teaching him how to play the piano she learned on. Damon was going to put the gut-wrenching pain out of his mind because if he spent one moment thinking about it, he wasn't sure he'd ever recover. With a steady hand, he took a handful of dirt and dropped it on Lily Salvatore's coffin.