And here is where it all starts to fall apart.

Also, since Giorno's stepfather didn't have a name I'm calling him Farro in this.


Chapter Two

Giovanna and his wife walked down the alley toward the stained and filthy back door of the building.

"This is disgusting," the woman snarled. "Why the hell do we have to go to places like this?"

"Because that's where you find the kind of people we're looking for," Giovanna sneered as he opened the door and they stepped inside the dimly lit bar. It was incredibly dingy and not loud like normal bars, the occupants either drinking alone, or playing pool in the corner, the only sound the clack of the balls. A few people looked up with suspicion when they came in, but most of them minded their own business. Mrs. Giovanna moved closer to her husband, wrinkling her nose as she looked around.

"This place is a dump. Who do we talk to?" she hissed.

He shot her an annoyed look and moved over to the bartender who glanced up at them balefully as he busied himself cleaning glasses.

"What can I get you?"

"Information," Giovanna said. "You know anyone who can do that?"

The bartender put the glass he was cleaning down and gave a vague nod. "Wait here."

He slipped from behind the bar and a couple minutes later, returned with a man who slid onto the stool beside Giovanna, giving him and his wife a once over.

"So, you're looking for information?"

"Blackmail really," Mrs. Giovanna said before her husband gave her a dirty look.

The man chuckled. "New at this, are you? You know it will cost you, right?"

"If you do your job, you might even get a bonus," Giovanna told the man.

The man nodded slowly, tapping his chin with a finger. "Hmm. I'm interested. Who's the person I'm supposed to be digging up dirt on?"

"Giorno Giovanna," Giovanna said firmly.

The man froze, as did the rest of the bar. They still didn't look over but it was like the entire establishment was holding its breath. The bartender dutifully turned away.

Finally, the man barked out a wide-eyed laugh. "You're joking. At least I hope you are."

"No, we're not!" Mrs. Giovanna protested. "He owes us money—"

"Then that's between you and him," the man said, holding up his hands as if he was washing them of this situation. "I don't tangle with Passione and I'm definitely not stupid enough to go after the Don. You can do that on your own time."

He got up and left the bar.

Mrs. Giovanna stood up, desperate annoyance on her face. "Is everyone too afraid to talk about Giorno Giovanna?"

No one turned to look at her at all, seeming determined to ignore her. She stomped her foot.

Her husband grabbed her arm before she could say anything else and started to push her toward the door. "Stop it, we'll find someone else."

"Hey."

Giovanna glanced over to see a man sitting at the table by the door. At first, he wasn't sure he had been the one to talk because he was bent over the table, a large hat covering most of his face.

"Did you say something?" Giovanna grunted.

"Hear you're looking for information on someone, but I might have something better." The man finally looked up, bright blue eyes almost glowing in the dim light, eerie.

Mrs. Giovanna pushed forward before he had a chance to say anything. "Yeah, we are, can you find—"

The man raised a finger to his lips. "Let's chat in a more private place. We can discuss terms then."

Giovanna glowered at his wife. "Let me do the talking."

She glared back at him, folding her arms, but they both followed the man into a back room. It was even darker than the main bar, but he didn't do anything to fix that. He motioned to a table that was probably used for poker games, and they sat down.

"You really should be more careful going around mentioning Don Giovanna's name like that," he chided. "He's become a powerful figure in the city. There's a lot of people loyal to him and a lot who aren't, but they're still not willing to take the chance of going up against him, considering what happened to the previous boss."

"What happened to him?" Mrs. Giovanna had to ask.

The man smirked. "No one knows. But I'm sure it wasn't pretty."

"And you're saying some scrawny sixteen-year-old did that?" Giovanna demanded, disbelief clear in his voice. Especially since all he remembered about the brat was a quiet, skulking freak.

The man shrugged. "Believe what you want."

"So, can you get information that will ruin him?" Giovanna asked.

The man smirked slightly. "I'm assuming what you're really after is money, correct?"

"Yes," Mrs. Giovanna said, leaning forward. "He owes us money. He's my son."

The man raised an eyebrow as Giovanna cursed at the women.

"Dammit! You weren't supposed to mention that!"

"Actually, that helps me a lot," the man said. "You see, I have a very specific skillset. I don't gather information, but I can make people forget whatever I want them to. Something like…the fact that someone is in charge of the largest crime syndicate in Naples."

The couple stared at him.

"Like… hypnotism?" Mrs. Giovanna asked.

"Something like that."

"What a load of bullshit," Giovanna growled.

"I assure you, it will work," the man replied calmly.

"How exactly would that help us?" Giovanna demanded.

"Well, for example, I could make the boy forget he ever left home to join the mafia. But you could make use of his recourses, credit cards, bank information and the like."

"And how long would that last? He'd just be able to come after us after he figured out what happened, wouldn't he?" Mrs. Giovanna demanded.

"It lasts as long as you want it to," the man said with a grin. "One-time thing. All I need is for you to set up a meeting where I can come in contact with him. After that, you can do what you want with him, but I would suggest keeping him out of the way."

"And you're not scared like the others?" Mrs. Giovanna demanded. "You're not just going to bail if we set this up?"

The man smirked. "The little golden brat doesn't scare me. I don't believe he took the boss on alone. No matter what anyone else says."

Giovanna and his wife shared a look. "Let's do it," she said.

Giovanna was still skeptical of the man's skillsets, however, they did need the money, and the social status of finally being able to move and buy a better house…

"Fine, let's do it. How do we get in contact with you?"

The man stood, putting his hands in his pockets. "Leave a message here with the bartender with a date and time. He'll know who it's for."

He walked out of the room, leaving Giovanna and his wife standing in the darkness.

"Looks like the little brat finally turned out to be useful," the woman said with a small smirk.

"We still haven't got him, and what the hell are we going to do with him after he gets hypnotized or whatever? We can't let him go, or the people he works with would just find him again."

"We'll just keep him with us like nothing happened. It wouldn't hurt to have someone do the housekeeping."

"Lazy bitch," Giovanna grunted. She glared at him and stormed out.

"You hate my cooking anyway."

While Giovanna wasn't thrilled with the idea of having the smarmy little brat around again, if they got money out of it, well, he couldn't exactly complain. Now to figure out how to get him to come to a meeting spot.


Over the next couple days after the unpleasant chance meeting, things went back to normal, and Giorno was, for the most part, able to forget the meeting with his parents. While it had inevitably sparked a reoccurrence in nightmares, he had been expecting that and he reminded himself again that he never had to go back there again. It helped being able to wake up in his room at the mansion. Seeing his things, the photo of his new family. Reminders that he was living a different life. That he had moved on from the past.

It had now been four days and Giorno was back to business as usual, working his way through yet another huge stack of papers and letters.

"Hey, Giorno, here's the mail from today as well," Fugo told him, stopping by his desk on his way to work with the accounts, setting down yet another stack of envelopes.

Giorno sighed. "Thank you, Fugo."

He took a quick glance through the letters, seeing that most of them looked like reports from the capos since it was the end of the month, which meant he was going to have to take his time reading through them and should get them done soon so he could pass them to Fugo to record the income. Then one caught his eye, because it was addressed to Giorno Giovanna. Usually none of the letters they received were personally addressed and if so, it was usually to Don Giovanna if anything. Something about this letter made him uneasy. He tried to push the thought away and focus on the others, but found that he was unable to do so.

Finally, he decided just to get it over with, since it was probably nothing to be worried about, and tore the letter open.

It turned out to be worse than he had expected. His heart skipped a beat as he started to read the letter, feeling his chest tighten.

Giorno,

Your stepfather and I were very surprised to see you the other day, but admittedly, you showed up at the perfect time. We're about to lose the house due to accrued debts, and we don't know what to do.

If you could just loan us enough money to keep the house, that would help out a lot. We heard about your position now and since you're apparently so well off, I don't mind asking. Could we meet to discuss it? How about Friday at Café Bianca at 1 pm?

I know you don't want anything to do with us anymore, but I am your mother, and I promise you that if you do this, we'll never ask you for anything again.

Sincerely, your mother

Giorno's hand was trembling as he finished reading the note for the third time, still unable to process the words fully. Just when he thought it was over, this nightmare only kept getting worse and worse. He knew exactly why they were in arrears, with his mother's expensive taste, and his stepfather's drinking and gambling habits. He had the thought to let them rot and use the money to help someone who actually deserved it.

His hand crumpled the note subconsciously and he fought against everything to let Gold turn it into a butterfly to simply carry away his troubles.

But on the other hand…he knew this wouldn't be the end of it. If he ignored this plea now, there would be more letters, even more desperate, begging for money or something. Always something with his mother. Nothing was ever good enough for her…

Giorno wished he had never run into them. He should have stayed out of that part of town. He should have known something like that would happen.

"Giorno, is something wrong?" Fugo asked, startling him so much he quickly folded the letter and set it on his desk.

"What? No, everything's fine. I'm just going through the reports so I can hand them over to you."

Fugo gave him a look that said he clearly didn't believe that was all, but he probably figured that if it was something important Giorno would tell him, so he went back to work.

Giorno tried to bury the letter on his desk, fully intending to ignore it, at least until he had done his work, but he found himself reading through the first report he opened three times without understanding anything. He cursed under his breath and ripped the letter out from under the pile of files. He would have to do something about this, he realized then with certainty. As much as he didn't want to see his mother and stepfather ever again, it was just money, and he had plenty of that now. If it meant never having to see them again, then maybe one more time was worth it. Besides, he had a feeling this was all his mother's idea, and though he held no real good will toward her, he could at least face her without being plagued by flashbacks for the most part.

He glanced at the letter again. Friday. That was tomorrow. He just had to think about this for another day and then he would be free, hopefully forever.

Part of Giorno didn't truly believe that, but at least it might hold them off for a while. Until his stepfather gambled and drank more of the money away and his mother had to buy more new designer dresses and shoes.

He tucked the letter into his coat pocket so no one would find it. At least finally deciding what he was going to do about it allowed him to concentrate better on his duties so he was able to get through the stack of reports before Bucciarati came back from his morning errands.

"Giorno, did we get more reports in today?" he asked.

"Most of them," Giorno replied. "I've already gone through them and handed them off to Fugo."

"Let's discuss them after lunch," Bucciarati replied, his eyes holding a small amount of concern as they wandered over Giorno's face. "You've been looking a bit pale lately. Too many late nights and too much time in the office, I would bet."

Giorno sighed. "Maybe. But there's not really anything I can do about that."

Bucciarati reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "You do have quite the weight on your shoulders, Giorno, but that's why we're all here to work together. Lunch now, and maybe a walk later this afternoon, hm? I think I could use one too. You too, Fugo, let's go have something to eat."

They exited the office and joined Trish and Narancia, who were still home, in the kitchen for lunch. Giorno felt a strange sense of gratitude that day for everyone around him, for the blessing to know what a real family was like. He felt so grateful to have found them.

And if everything went well, maybe tomorrow, he could cut ties with his past forever.


The next day, Giorno woke up after a restless night, stomach too sick to eat so he grabbed toast and tea and went to the office early to start work. He was able to get through the new batch of letters that day before Fugo came in, then kept checking the clock to see the time. He would have to leave soon if he was going to get to the other side of town in time for the meeting.

Deciding he couldn't wait another minute and too distracted to do work, Giorno gathered his wallet and his check book. He would take the money out of his personal account so that it didn't have to go on Passione records. He would prefer no one ever know about this.

Luckily, Bucciarati was still out seeing to business around town with Abbacchio and Narancia so he wouldn't have to get past him.

"Um, Fugo, I need to go out for a little bit," he said.

The other teen looked up at him with surprise. "Oh, of course. Do you need anyone to go with you?"

Giorno forced a small smile. "No, I just have a few things I need to do."

Fugo's eyes narrowed before he could turn away. "Is something the matter, Giorno? You've looked a bit off the last couple days."

Giorno tried to think of some explanation and decided that partial truth was always best. "It's just…some family issues. That's all. Nothing serious."

"Oh," Fugo sounded surprised, but he schooled his expression quickly. Giorno was grateful Fugo wasn't the type to ask personal questions. "Well, let us know if you need anything."

Giorno felt a slight twist in his stomach, again so grateful at just how accepting his new family was, and because of that, feeling slightly bad for the lies, or rather, the omissions. It spurred him on to get this meeting over with so he could just go back to his new life and forget all about it.

He took the train down to the other side of town and made his way to the café his mother had asked to meet at.

He checked the time and saw he would probably be a couple minutes late, but he wasn't going to worry about that.

The café wasn't very crowded and he spotted his mother sitting out on one side of the patio instantly. Of course, Giorno also realized in that moment that his stepfather seemed to have decided to show up as well.

His stomach twisted sickly, but he took a moment to compose himself as he strode over.

"Giorno," his mother greeted tentatively. She looked nervous. He supposed someone must have told them who he was now and the power he had. His mother's unease only left a bad taste in his mouth, however. He glanced over at his stepfather and was only met with a dark, hard gaze. Giorno fought against the urge to assert dominance. He knew if he tried, he would end up a trembling mess. He could face down Diavolo with all the power of King Crimson, but not his stepfather; not the man who beat and abused him. He couldn't show that weakness. So, he turned back to his mother instead.

"I didn't think you'd actually come," she said.

Giorno pressed his lips together. "I'm not doing this because I want to help you, you understand," he forced out. "The money I'm giving you would be better suited to someone who deserves it. However, as you said in the letter, you are my mother. I have a new family now, but I won't forget that. So, consider it a repayment for the gift of life. I'm sure that's how you see it."

His mother paled and his stepfather leaned forward in his seat. "Where do you get off talking to us like that, you little shit? You can't fool us with this high and mighty act, we know what a sniveling little brat you are."

"I never sniveled," Giorno said firmly, drawing his shoulders back. "It never did any good."

"Ferro, stop," Giorno's mother hissed. "We asked him here to give us money."

"Exactly," Giorno said, pulling the check book out of his pocket. "How much?"

"Sixteen million lira," the man said, folding his arms over his chest.

Giorno quickly scribbled out the check and ripped it out of the book, handing it over to his mother. "There. Now keep your promise. I never want to see you again. And do not come looking for me the next time you need money."

Giorno suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and something felt like it nipped the skin there. He reached back, expecting to find a bug or something, but instead he felt something ropy and long attached to his neck. He blinked, confused for a second.

A man in a large hat and coat, who had been sitting at another table, innocuously reading a newspaper, got up and walked over to the small group.

Giorno suddenly realized this was some sort of Stand attack, but why? Why here and now?

"Gold Ex—" he tried, when he was suddenly overcome with a crippling paralysis. His knees went weak and his vision blacked out. And after that, there was only the sensation of floating in endless darkness.


The man caught Giorno as soon as he started to collapse and shoved him quickly into a chair so no one at the café would grow suspicious.

"Wow, that worked fast," Mrs. Giovanna said, blinking.

The man smirked. "Like I said, it's very effective."

"And he'll just wake up and forget everything?" Giovanna asked skeptically.

The man nodded. "Bring him back home, and spin whatever story you want to. He'll believe it."

The woman nodded before reaching into her purse and handing him the check Giorno had written. "There, that's your payment."

The man bowed slightly and took it. "Much obliged. Good luck."

He turned around and started away. Mrs. Giovanna turned to her husband. "Get the car. We need to get him out of here before people start getting suspicious."

Giovanna gave her a dirty look. "Make sure he has his wallet on him, and grab the check book."

She did as he asked, going through Giorno's pockets, taking off his expensive watch and his wallet, putting everything into her purse for safe keeping. Honestly, she wasn't thrilled about having the brat back, but if he could cook and clean, then it would be worth it. After all, what else could they do with him?

Giovanna brought the car around and together, they got Giorno inside as inconspicuously as possible. Now they just had to figure out a story he would hopefully buy, and from now on, with the bank accounts of Passione at their disposal, their lives should be smooth sailing from here on out.