CHAPTER 1: A Reckoning Begins
It all began in Italy with the death of Philip Bonetti, a Mafia superior. While he was still alive, he trusted an American named Lucas, so much that he took him as his own son. Before Philip died, as if foretelling his own death, he ordered Lucas to collect all debts from any remaining debtors, whichever way he deemed necessary.
After attending Philip's funeral, Lucas got in his sleek, black car and headed towards Andrew Hill's house. Despite the fact that Andrew and Philip had been friends while Philip was still alive, the man shamelessly owed a lot of money and tried to use their friendship as a means to keep avoiding paying his debts. It greatly displeased Lucas that Philip was so lenient with Andrew, and he especially didn't like the man.
Well, now that he was the one in charge of doing this, Andrew would have no other choice than to either pay or face the consequences. As Lucas's car approached Andrew's gated compound, there was a helicopter following him from above that sprayed gasoline all the way around the perimeter and surroundings of Andrew's house and up till the entrance. Afterward, the helicopter hovered nearby to wait, while the gates opened automatically to allow Lucas's car drive in.
Andrew received him warmly, and Lucas glared at him, wondering how he could still keep up his pretentious charade.
"Lucas, my man!" Andrew hugged him, grinning as he refilled his champagne flute. "Would you like to join me for some champagne?" he offered.
Lucas continued to glare at him. Just what the hell was there to celebrate? He didn't even have the decency to attend his friend's funeral and here he was drinking and asking him to join in.
"This isn't a social call, Mr. Hill," he said coldly.
Andrew huffed, the smile fading from his lips. "So what is this about?"
"I've come to collect what you owe."
"What I owe?" Andrew scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. You've been owing Mr. Bonetti all this time and he ordered me to collect from everyone that owes him, and that includes you."
"Oh, come on, Luke, that man's dead and I see that you came alone. Don't you think it's a little too early in the afternoon for you to be messing with me like this?" he said, chuckling.
Lucas's blood boiled in anger listening to him talk like that without any regard for his late friend.
"Be mindful of how you speak of Mr. Bonetti! He was like a father to me."
"Oh, please!" Andrew waved a hand dismissively at him. "Don't tell me you're still entertaining those stupid fantasies of sharing a father-in-law bond with Philip. That's just pathetic."
Lucas clenched his jaws. "So I take it you're not going to pay what you owe, Mr. Hill?"
"Oh, f**k off!" he said and went to sit on the couch, downing the rest of his champagne.
Lucas just nodded, smiled at him and turned to leave. As he stepped out of the house, he took out a lighter from inside his suit jacket, flipping the lid open and close until he reached his car.
As soon as he drove past the entrance, he flicked on the lighter and let it drop to the ground behind him, quickly setting the whole place ablaze.
Meanwhile, there was Elliot Bonetti, the biological son of Philip Bonetti and, considering that fact, Lucas regarded him as his brother. Word about the fire incident at Andrew Hill's house had already reached him, and he was beside himself with anger.
How could Lucas have done such a crazy thing? The Mafia superior's body hadn't even begun to rot in the ground yet and he was already embarking on a killing spree?
Since Lucas had been too smug and self-absorbed to respect and recognize him as his father's predecessor while the man was still alive, he would have no other choice than to succumb to his rule now. He, Elliot, was the rightful heir to the Bonetti throne, so to speak, and not anyone else.
He leaned back in the white leather chair that had previously been his father's, as he watched Lucas stroll into the office with a leisurely gait. Everything about this young man standing before him right now infuriated him so much that he wanted to break every bone in that body of his.
Never mind the nonsense idea that his father used to keep peddling about them being brothers. He saw red every time Lucas was nearby. But he couldn't just take such rash decisions, whether he was now the new boss or not. He didn't think it wise to begin his regime with chaos; things had to be very organized, otherwise he could risk running the Bonetti family Empire to the ground.
"Elliot?" Lucas said. "You wanted to see me?"
"I heard about the little game you went to play over at Mr. Hill's house," Elliot said, eyeing him. "Now, why would you go and do a thing like that without my consent, huh, Lucas?"
Lucas shrugged, mentally noting that Elliot had willfully neglected to offer him a seat, and he replied, "He owed Mr. Bonetti a lot of money and I had to go and collect it."
"You had to go and collect," Elliot repeated, scoffing. "With whose permission?"
"Mr. Bonetti's."
Elliot glared at him. "Which one? The one that's currently lying in the grave, or the one that's sitting here right in front of you?"
Lucas knew what he intoned, but decided that he wouldn't take the bait. He directed his gaze to the windows behind Elliot so that he wouldn't have to look at his face or his eyes for a while, at least.
"Your father gave me strict orders on what to do before he passed."
"Who the f**k do you think you are!" Elliot growled, banging a fist on the desk so hard that some papers flew up, and some stationery items were knocked over. He roughly stood up from the chair. "You think that just because you followed Pop around and did his bidding like a puppy, you earned the right to be called a f*****g Bonetti?"
From where he was standing, Lucas considered himself more of a Bonetti than even this biological one that was squealing like a pig that was about to be slaughtered, but he held his tongue.
Elliot chuckled, wagging a slim index finger at him. Right now, he had that peculiar, maniacal look about him that made him look like some next-level psychopath.
"You've had your sights set on taking over from my father, haven't you? I know it, and everyone else knows it. But unfortunately for you, Lucas, despite everything you did for the old man, none of that could have made you his successor. It's just f*****g impossible!" He laughed. "You're not even Italian. And so from now on, I'm Mr. Bonetti that you answer to. Yes," he said, nodding his head seriously. "I'm your new boss and I expect your loyalty and respect."
Lucas regarded him for a brief moment. So he thought that he could just sit in his father's seat, acclaim himself to be the new boss, and demand loyalty and respect from those around him, and it would come to him just like that?
Was that all he thought running this business, or any business at all, was about? Lucas mentally shook his head at that. Elliot was on a serious ego trip.
Lucas smiled at Elliot like he was a five-year-old that had just said some stupid things and replied, "I don't care what you expect or don't expect from me. I will only give respect to anyone who deserves it."
After saying that, he walked away, passing by a maid that was carrying a silver tray with a drink in it on his way out of the office.
The woman, who looked to be in her late forties, went into the office and placed the tray before Elliot on the desk.
"What is this?" he asked her, looking from the drink in the tray to the woman who had brought it.
"The vodka you asked for, sir."
"When did I ask for vodka? I'm pretty sure I asked for whiskey. Or are you hard of hearing?"
"No, sir." The woman shook her head. "But you asked me to bring you a glass of vodka."
"And I said I don't want vodka!" He grabbed the glass from the tray and threw it against the wall, shattering it to pieces. "I want f*****g whiskey, goddamit!" he yelled. "Can't you get a simple order for a drink, right?"
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, trembling as she picked up the tray from the desk and turned to leave.
"Clean that up," he said, pointing towards the broken pieces of glass and vodka on the floor. "And bring me my whiskey."
"Yes, sir," she replied from the doorway, nodding.
Elliot sat down once more and smoothed his hair back, fuming more at Lucas's disrespect than what he claimed the maid had done wrong. He had to teach the bastard a lesson, he thought.
