Chapter 234: "Such Rotten Luck"

Maria Castellano sat in her private study, her chair turned away from the desk as she regarded the enormous framed family portrait on the opposite wall.

A glass of scotch rested in one hand. Her expression, however, bore little resemblance to the gentle smile worn by the woman in the photograph.

God had been extraordinarily generous to her. He’d seen fit to have her born into a wealthy dynasty, then blessed her with delicate features, soft brown eyes, and the sort of lovely, approachable face that made people instantly think of a kind and devoted mother.

And yet, through some spectacular oversight, He’d also allowed her to become the Donna of a criminal empire.

Of course, Claudio Castellano had been a devastatingly handsome young man when she’d first met him. Clever, ambitious, with a silver tongue and a talent for making even his worst intentions sound like romantic promises.

Given the circumstances, Maria could hardly be blamed for being swept off her feet by the charming criminal bastard.

She had been young.

He had been handsome.

Mistakes had been made.

Nevertheless, she’d never particularly enjoyed being Donna.

She’d fulfilled the minimum requirements, naturally. She attended the appropriate gatherings, maintained cordial relationships with other powerful families, and cultivated the image of a gracious, affectionate matriarch who cared deeply for her husband and children.

Over the past thirty years, maintaining appearances required surprisingly little effort. Unfortunately, the financial reports sitting on her desk suggested that minimum effort would no longer be sufficient.

"Ah, such rotten luck."

Maria clicked her tongue and took a sip of scotch.

"I had a bad feeling the moment that drug-addicted little menace signed her contract with our House. And now look at this bloody mess."

Another sip.

"At the rate he’s going, my youngest son’s going to become Don before winter even arrives. What am I supposed to do then? Shoot him in the middle of his coronation?"

The thought made her press a hand dramatically against her chest.

"Oh, dear Lord. Imagine the damage that would do to my reputation."

She shook her head sorrowfully.

"Thirty years! Thirty years I’ve spent building the image of a sweet, loving Donna, only for people to discover that poor Maria Castellano was forced to murder her youngest child — just because the ungrateful little bastard made more money than he was supposed to. What would the rest of Borgata’s underworld think of me?!"

From the other side of the desk came two faint groans.

Hezekiah Castellano, her eldest son, was kneeling on the floor with both arms raised above his head.

Beside him, his younger brother Zachariah held the same position, although his trembling shoulders suggested that his enthusiasm for the exercise had long since disappeared.

"Please, Mother," Hezekiah begged. "Can we... can we please stand up? My knees are killing me."

"Brother’s right, Mother," Zachariah added immediately, nodding with such enthusiasm that he nearly lost his balance. "We’ve been kneeling for two hours. I can’t even feel my ass anymore."

Maria closed her eyes.

She let out a long, exhausted sigh before finally turning her chair toward them.

The sight was almost too pathetic to bear. Her two grown sons, both born and raised with every advantage imaginable, were kneeling before her like a pair of schoolboys caught stealing sweets.

Their faces were strained, their arms drooped, and neither seemed capable of maintaining his posture without complaining.

It broke her heart.

Unfortunately, they deserved every second of it.

"Lord above." Maria lifted her free hand toward the ceiling. "If only the two of you had inherited even a fraction of your mother’s intelligence, I wouldn’t have to sit here exhausting myself trying to solve your problems."

She fixed them with a stern look.

"Keep kneeling! And straighten those arms! You’re letting them droop again!"

Hezekiah was rapidly approaching the limits of his endurance.

"Mother, please!" He made a strangled sound. "What if someone comes in and sees us like this? Our reputations will be ruined!"

"Exactly, Mother!" Zachariah agreed. "Please, just let us stand up first. While you’ve been sitting there drinking scotch, Hezekiah and I have actually come up with a plan. We promise we can fix this!"

Maria regarded them through half-lidded eyes.

"Fix this?"

She gave a short, humorless laugh.

"You two couldn’t even manage to out-earn your little brother. How exactly do you intend to fix anything?"

Hezekiah seized the opportunity.

"We remove his money printer, Mother. Simple as that!"

Zachariah hurried to elaborate.

"That’s right! Ariana Lombardi is the only reason Jeremiah’s been making such an obscene amount of money lately. If we make her incapable of fighting, he’ll lose that enormous revenue stream!"

Maria’s lazy displeasure vanished from her face, replaced by naked disbelief.

"Have both of your brains gone completely smooth?"

She looked from one son to the other, wondering how either had survived infancy.

"You’re aware that this Ariana Lombardi isn’t some random fighter Jeremiah dug out of a back alley, aren’t you? She’s the heiress of another House! A neighboring House, no less! And you’re suggesting we kill her?!"

Hezekiah immediately clasped his raised hands together in supplication.

"We never said anything about killing her, Mother! We’ll just break a few bones! Cripple her for life, at worst!"

"Exactly!" Zachariah added, inching forward on his knees. "Jeremiah’s planning some ridiculous match where she’s supposed to fight an entire team. We’ll buy off the fighters and make sure they’re all instructed to target her. They don’t even have to defeat her outright. They just need to keep her occupied long enough for one or two of them to break something important!"

For the first time since the conversation began, Maria seemed genuinely interested in something her sons had said.

"Hm."

Her eyes narrowed.

"That’s not entirely a bad idea."

She leaned back in her chair and considered the proposal.

"The Lombardi girl is Don Gian’s only child. If she’s permanently crippled, House Lombardi’s future becomes considerably less secure. Depending on how things unfold afterward... that might present an opportunity for us to acquire some of their territories and assets."

"Exactly, Mother!" Hezekiah’s eyes gleamed. "We’ll make sure everything is arranged properly."

"You won’t have to worry about a thing," Zachariah assured her. "We’ll handle it!"

"Very well, then." Maria’s lovely smile returned in full. "Have it arranged, both of you. But don’t you dare let your father hear a single word about this."

Hezekiah and Zachariah nodded eagerly, relieved to have finally received permission to end their punishment. Yet the mention of their father brought another question to Hezekiah’s mind, one that had troubled him for years.

"Mother, can I ask you something?"

Maria raised an eyebrow.

"Must you?"

"It’s just..." Hezekiah shifted uncomfortably. "Why did you and Father make Jeremiah heir in the first place? If you hadn’t appointed him, we wouldn’t be dealing with any of this now."

"Exactly!" Zachariah said, his frustration returning. "He’s not just the youngest. He’s a bastard son! What were you and Father thinking?"

Maria studied them.

They’d asked variations of that question before. Usually, she’d dismissed their complaints with vague references to House interests or their father’s decisions. But today, after spending two hours contemplating the succession catastrophe unfolding beneath her own roof, she saw little reason to continue indulging their ignorance.

"This is precisely why neither of you was made heir in the first place."

She set down her glass.

"It was because of money, obviously."

Hezekiah blinked.

Zachariah frowned.

"Jeremiah was making an absolute fortune for the House even back then," Maria continued sweetly. "And that little bastard has always been obsessed with vanity. Recognition, status, extravagant titles — anything that makes him feel important."

She gave a dismissive wave.

"So your father and I thought, why not make him heir? Let the boy think he’s finally being recognized for his talents. We figured he’d work even harder, make even more money, and fill the family coffers while enjoying the privilege of calling himself our successor."

Both brothers went still. For several seconds, they simply stared at her.

Hezekiah was the first to recover.

"So... all this time... it was just a trick?"

Zachariah’s brow furrowed.

"You and Father... never intended to let him become Don?"

Maria looked at them as though they’d asked whether water was wet.

"Of course not, you idiots!"

She leaned forward, her expression suddenly fierce.

"He’s a bastard son! Even if your father loses what little sense he has left and changes his mind, do you honestly think your mother would ever allow that to happen?"

Hezekiah dragged both hands through his hair.

"Then why didn’t you tell us all these years?"

Maria gave him a contemptuous look.

"So you could spend the next decade sitting on your asses?" She scoffed. "If I’d told you that your inheritance was secure, I doubt either of you would have bothered getting out of bed before noon."

The brothers looked suitably offended, but Maria ignored them.

"Catch up with your little brother and start proving yourselves worthy of the positions you expect to inherit. Otherwise, Mother will have you kneeling at the front entrance every single day."

Hezekiah straightened immediately.

"No! Please, Mother! No kneeling at the front entrance!"

Zachariah had reached the same conclusion.

"Perhaps Hezekiah and I should get going," he suggested hastily. "We have a lot of preparations to make."

They rose as quickly as their aching knees allowed. Maria watched them with an expression of weary satisfaction, but the brothers were almost at the door when another thought occurred to her.

"One last thing."

Both men froze.

Slowly, they turned around.

"Where’s that rotten father of yours?" She folded her arms. "At some theater again? A brothel? Or one of those sex clubs I’ve been hearing about lately?"

The brothers exchanged a glance, then both swallowed hard.

"W-well..." Hezekiah began. "We’re not entirely sure where Father is."

"That’s right," Zachariah said quickly. "P-perhaps you should call Father and ask him yourself. W-we really ought to get back to work."

Maria’s face hardened.

"Wonderful."

She ground her teeth.

"You two went with him, didn’t you?"

Hezekiah went pale, while Zachariah’s smile disappeared. For one terrible second, both seemed to consider whether denying the accusation might save them.

When they looked at their mother, however, whatever they saw in her face evidently persuaded them otherwise. Without another word, the two brothers turned and bolted for the door.

Maria shot out of her chair.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU FUCKING DEGENERATES!"

She swept around the desk and charged after them, shouting loudly enough to destroy thirty years of carefully cultivated sweetness in a single afternoon.