Edited by Stilldreaming85 and Banshee69
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Edward Cullen.
"How in the hell does he keep getting away with this!?" My father yelled, as he slammed his palms against his mahogany desk.
Money continued to disappear from his foreign account. Although we had transferred the majority of it into another account, we had left a portion in the hopes that maybe, somehow they might slip up and we would be able to trace it back. But luck was not on our side with this one.
Marco, against his better judgment, had gone and offered Leo his family's protection.
The more I thought about all of this...Leo didn't possess the knowledge to orchestrate something like this. He wasn't a hacker, only an accountant at best, if he wanted to call himself that.
He had to be working with someone else, an untraceable figure who was obviously close enough to us to know about this account or be able to find out about it easily.
But the more I searched, the more dead ends I reached, the more frustrated and angry I became.
"We have let this go on for far too long. We are beginning to look weak. I know it's Leo, you know it as well, and Marco is a fool for involving himself in this. But I am going after them, all of them," he said.
"The hell you are," I said.
"It's not your decision to make!" he yelled. "I said I want Leo dead and I don't care if I have to go through the entire Moretti family to get to him."
This would not be the first time that my father had undermined me and I doubt it would be the last.
He didn't think I saw it. If that was the case, then he was stupider than I gave him credit for. I knew him all too well, in a way, I knew him better than he knew himself.
He never wanted to hand the ropes over to me. He never wanted to give me power, not the way it happened anyways.
My father was the sort of man who needed power, he craved it, breathed it. It was something deep within his bones and swimming in his blood. He loved the power and the high that came from it. He loved the bloodthirst, the respect, and the ultimate authority.
I remember every time Anthony did something stupid, killed someone just for looking at him wrong. Our father would be pissed at him. But it was a false anger, behind it, he took pride in Anthony's demons even though he punished him for his actions.
He was proud of every fuckery Anthony had ever done, even taking Isabella. Our father will never admit it, but he loved what Anthony had done with Charles.
He always had a softer spot for Anthony, because my brother was the perfect unpredictable reflection of himself.
Without a shadow of a doubt, if my father had had the choice, Anthony would have been Don. But tradition killed all of his hopes I guess, I was his firstborn son, even if it was only by a few minutes. The only way Anthony would have ever been Don, was if I was dead.
"That is not your decision to make," I reminded him as I was trying to remind myself to remain calm.
"He is making us look like idiotic, weak fools. You are the head of this family and yet you are acting like a fucking pussy." He spat the words out with venom in my face.
I pushed myself up from the cabinet I had been leaning against. I counted the steps it took me to reach my father's place behind his desk, seven.
He either didn't pay attention to my presence or he did not care. But there was one thing he was not prepared for, the attack.
I didn't give him any warning. There were no words exchanged as my fist collided with his nose, causing his head to snap back.
I had his attention then. He was aware of my close proximity now.
He stood up quickly in his fit of anger. He came towards me with his nose bloodied and his hands balled into fists. He was ready to retaliate and fight back.
"You son of a bitch," he spat, lunging at me.
This was not the first time my father and I had gotten into a physical altercation. This was how he trained my brother and I from the time we were small children, it was how I learned to predict his every move.
I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forcefully slammed his back against the wall, causing a hung frame to lose its place on the wall and come crashing down to the floor by our feet.
"Let's get one thing straight here, padre, once and for all," I said. "I give the orders, not you. I decide who lives and who dies, not you. I make the rules, not you.
You disrespected me here today, and you know what happens when you disrespect your Don, right, padre?"
"Let go of me," he said, trying to get out of the death grip I had on him.
"Consider yourself lucky that I haven't put a bullet in between your eyes for the disrespect you have shown me. Let this be your first and final warning."
And just like that, my father bowed down. But I was not stupid enough to believe this was the end of it.
~MINY~
It was another Sunday night. Therefore, making it the usual family dinner get-together.
I could tell that being seated at a table surrounded by my family made Isabella a little uncomfortable. She was fidgeting with her fingers in her lap, wringing them to death. I thought she might snap one off at any moment.
I slid my hand under the table to her lap and attempted to pry her fingers apart with one hand. I was grateful when she did not put up any sort of a fight. Instead, she willingly intertwined her fingers with mine, it was a small act, but one that took me completely by surprise. I welcomed any sort of contact from her that she was willing to give me considering how cold she has been lately, this was nice and the warm smile she offered was the icing on the cake.
I turned my attention to my father, who was seated at the other end of the table right in front of me.
There was something about him tonight, something that simply did not sit right with me. His mood was almost too happy for my liking. It was as if he was hiding something or getting ready to drop a bomb on me, on us. The way he was looking between Isabella and myself. Only added to fuel to the fire.
"What's up with the mood?" I asked.
"Excuse me?" He said, as he looked up from the top of his glass, hiding his smirk behind it.
I stared back at him with a raised brow. waiting for him to say something, to explain himself. I knew he could not hold his tongue for long, it was not in his nature where I was concerned.
"Can I not be happy to have all my children together under my roof?" He pointed out.
All of his children but one.
Sofia was seated by me and Rosalie was next to her. Emmett had stepped outside a few minutes prior to take a phone call. My mother was seated next to my father and his sister to his left.
I looked to Rosalie in the hopes that she might be able to shed some light for me on our father's rather unusually happy mood, but she too shrugged in confusion.
"Leave him alone, nipote," Carmen said. "It is nice to see my fratello in bright spirits."
"Yes, Edward, leave your father alone. It's nice to see him like this for a change. Can he not just be happy?" my mother said.
No, not him and especially not now with everything that has been going on. And certainly not after what I had done to him. He had a nice bruise forming under his nose.
"I am glad to see my daughter-in-law. If I didn't know any better, I would believe you were trying to keep her away from us."
"Is Edward keeping you that busy Marie that you do not have time to come and see us?" My zia asked. "I missed you."
"Thank you, Carmen. I have missed you as well," Isabella said, offering Carmen a small polite smile.
"Good," Carmen replied. "You and I, we will have lunch this week, just the two of us."
"Now that I have you both here," my father interrupted. "There is something important that I need address with the both of you."
"Such as?" I asked.
I didn't like this. I didn't like the feel of it at all. There was nothing of importance that needed to be addressed in front of Isabella. There was nothing my father needed to tell her, nothing she needed to know. I had been right, I knew my father could never fall in line. I knew it would only be a matter of time before he tried to pull a stunt again.
"Oh, don't give me that look, Edward. I was only going to ask when you plan to impregnate your wife, or do you need me to show you how it's done?" He said, with no regard that his wife, my mother, was seated beside him.
Beside me, Isabella began choking on her water as soon as the words had left my father's mouth. She harshly removed her hand from mine and grabbed her napkin wiping at her mouth.
"Carlisle," my mother called out, sounding every bit appalled as she looked. She too could not believe the words that had left her husband's mouth. "That is not your concern, or any of our concerns for that matter."
"I beg to differ," my father challenged.
I pinched the tip of my nose as I stared at him across the table. I got it, I knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to get payback because I had refused his request, his hit, and now he was attempting to hurt me where he knew I would be affected the most.
"Do I need to remind you again?" I asked, standing up from my place. I would not do anything stupid, not with Sofia in the room.
"Remind me of what exactly?"
What an arrogant bastard he was. I glanced at Isabella beside me, at the expression on her face. I was almost certain that if I were to place a gun in her hand right now, she would not think twice about shooting my father.
"Edward, please, don't," my mother said.
"We...we have a big problem," Emmett said, storming back into the room.
"What?" Both my father and I asked in unison.
Emmett shook his head, motioning towards his daughter and my wife in the room.
"I could use some help in the kitchen with dessert," my mother said, as she stood up and headed out of the room. Carmen went right behind her, so was my sister, carrying Sofia on her hip.
"Go stay with my mother for a bit, I'll be right there," I said, helping Isabella out of her seat.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"It's nothing for you to worry about. Go, this won't take long. We'll go home after."
I watched her leave out of the room and closed the door behind her before shifting my attention back to Emmett.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked.
"Marco's son was found strapped to a shipping container at the Red Hook Terminal," he said.
"Fuck!" I cursed. "What the fuck did you do?" I turned to my father, who threw his hands up in the air in surrender.
"I didn't do this," he said.
"There's more," Emmett said. "He had our family mark burned into him."
"That's impossible," my father said.
"You fucking did this!" I yelled, shoving my finger in his chest.
"I didn't do shit. I'm not fucking stupid. I wouldn't put our family's mark on him and leave him where he could be found," he said, shoving my hand away.
He was right. He may want his revenge, but even on impulse, he would never be stupid enough as to sign our name to a murder.
Whoever murdered Marco's son, tied our name to it, they want Marco to believe that we did it, that's why they left the body in a place where it could easily be found.
Was Leo really that stupid to kill the only son of the man who had offered him his family's protection? No, no I seriously doubt it. There was something more here, something that I could not see, a link I could not find.
The one thing I was certain of right now, this would mean war. Marco would come for his retribution.