Son of the Devil

Chapter Thirty-Three: We're Even

"He hassled you."

"He hassled your brother too."

Actually, Enzo hassled them both---he hassled them GOOD. Vito could only chuckle to himself as he remembered how Enzo easily played him around his fingers and told him what he wanted to hear. Yet, it was strange that in spite of feeling upset from being betrayed, Vito couldn't muster any anger towards Enzo. Worst...he had a nagging feeling that he would willingly subject himself to another bout of humiliation should they cross paths again.

So, when he returned to his residence after spending nearly half a year behind bars, he felt lost. He always thought he had everything figured out until he met a person who blatantly showed him whose really in control.

Inside the two-storey Genovese mansion, with its nostalgic Georgian architecture, Vito could hardly recognize the place. As prominent in Roman and Greek architecture, the grand central hall opened up to the craftsmanship of Neo-classical interior design. Everything was shaded in pristine white, complimenting the grandiose yet extremely refined atmosphere. Vito looked up, trying to remember the place he once called home. He gazed at the high ceilings decked with elaborate crown moldings, majestic stone pillars of classical Ionic order, and lofty windows, imbuing an aristocratic and timeless French feel.

"Welcome home."

Vito turned to see a beautiful woman with a slender figure and chestnut wavy locks descending the stairs. Her small face was adorned by a pair of big, round peepers and a small nose that emphasized her soft features. This...was Emilia Costa. But in this household, she was known as Lord Genovese's third and last wife prior to his death.

Ironically, she was also Vito and Lucio's childhood friend.

Vito took his time whirling around to face the stepmother who was of the same age as him. It was a repulsive thought, but it was enough to remind him as to why he hated returning to this house. "You're here."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm always here and you know that," Emilia replied wryly, motioning for the maidservants to serve them drinks, following Vito who settled in the living room, well aware that he wouldn't be able to escape her presence.

"I'm on house arrest," he announced with a certain pride, and casually placed both of his feet on the glass table, earning him a scowl from his young stepmother. "But I guess you already know that."

"You're lucky that Lucio sent his brother to fetch you. Put your feet down."

A burst of deep, loud, and hearty laughter resonated from his throat as he complied. It almost felt like an insult, but Vito always had reservations when it came to his feelings for Emilia and how she seduced his father into marrying her so she could have control of the Genovese line.

It was almost comical, really, that the only person he trusted to always stand by his side no matter was now one of his greatest rivals---Lucio.

"Lucio's alive."

"That's not a question."

"Well, that's not an answer, step-mama."

Her face hardened. "How can you be so stupid? Do you think if you side with that disgusting womanizer, you'll defeat Lucio? You will never be like him, Vito."

The words sliced through his chest so deeply it stung, but Vito acted as if it didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. "Then, why didn't you marry him?" When she failed to rebut, he smirked, "Oh I forgot, you're not his type and you're into old, disgusting womanizers."

All the blood drained from Emilia's face, and she immediately made her displeasure known when she rose from her seat, slapping him across the face. They exchanged glares for a long while, but once again, Vito leaned to his couch, sporting a nonchalant expression.