Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Show me where your father is, and then be on your way.”
His eyes immediately dropped back to the ground in shame, rightfully so. He took a breath before he gave a nod and then headed toward the back of the villa. He kept the lead, showing a slight limp from where Francesca had kicked him.
He walked past the garden to the field, where open land between the house and the vineyards stretched into the distance. He immediately pivoted away and stared at the house as if he couldn’t bear to look.
I stepped forward and saw the shallow grave with the bodies piled inside. They were already heavily decomposed, and the stench was so strong, I was amazed it didn’t drift toward the house. It looked like a trench of dead soldiers from World War II.
Leo continued to keep his gaze directed away.
I’d seen shit like this before, but it hit different knowing it was Francesca’s father. I knew which one was him based on his clothing and the watch on his wrist. Most of his flesh was already gone, and a lot of his bones had been revealed. “Alright, you can go.”
“I—I want to help.”
“You can’t even look.”
“Let…” He swallowed. “Let me help you dig the grave.”
I continued to stare at my dead boss, the man who was supposed to be my father-in-law someday. I’d told him he would live to regret his decision, and I felt no satisfaction at being right. I wished he’d believed me. “He doesn’t deserve this.”
“I know—”
“He was an honorable man and a good father. Instead of being a little bitch for not getting what you wanted, you should have worked to be better and proven your worth. Now he’s rotting on his land—all because you proved him right.”
His breathing grew shallow, as if he was about to burst into tears.
Nothing would bring Don Mancini back, but I wanted to twist the blade inside Leo’s rib cage as much as possible. He’d taken away my woman’s father. Someone she disagreed with but loved wholeheartedly.
“Grab some shovels. I’m going to need gloves for this.”
Leo and I dug a grave next to the tree where we’d carved our names into the bark. The rest of his family was buried at the cemetery down the road, but it seemed more fitting to place him here. He believed in family and legacy…and he died for it.
We had to navigate the roots and work tirelessly all day to make sure the grave was deep enough and wide enough for the coffin that Elio and Andre had gone to obtain from the village.
Francesca didn’t come out of the house. The last time I saw her, she was walking into her father’s office. It seemed as if she needed a moment to process her victory and feel her father’s presence in the room he used to occupy every single day. I let her be, knowing she needed to experience these emotions on her own.
I was glad she stayed inside because I didn’t want her to see this.
Elio returned with the coffin, a brilliant Sicilian blue, and carried it to the shallow grave behind the house. We all put on gloves before we moved his body into the coffin. Leo was the only one who didn’t help, keeping his back to us until he heard the lid close.
We acted as pallbearers and lifted his coffin. Together, we carried it to his final resting place under the tree where he’d initiated me into the family and had allowed me to carve my true name into the bark.
We had to use ropes we found in the warehouse to lower the coffin six feet below, treating his corpse gently even though he was almost exclusively bones after being exposed to the Mediterranean sun for so long.
The coffin hit the bottom of the grave, and then I hopped inside to remove the knots in the ropes so they would come free, before I climbed back out. Then we grabbed the shovels and started to return the dirt from where it’d been taken.
Leo didn’t help. He just stood there and watched, bloody and broken, tears glistening in his eyes as we buried his father. He would have to carry the guilt of his father’s death for the rest of his life.
I almost felt bad for him.
We packed the dirt into place and smoothed out the surface to make it flat once more. When the job was done, we all stood there together, our arms resting on the shovels that had given us blisters and stared at the slightly raised mound. Birds chirped in the trees, and a hawk cawed from its place high in the sky. We stood together in a heavy moment of silence, saying goodbye to our leader who was gone too soon.
Then, one by one, they all turned to look at Leo.