The Saint

Chapter 4

3 Months Later...

Giovanni POV

After 3 months of searching for me, the family somberly declared me dead after the Rostovs sent a video to the Fiorellis of my 'death.'

On the night of my assassination, Ambrosim had installed a camera to his suit jacket to record how brutal his murder was. The only editing the Russians did to the DVD was disguising the voices of Ambrosim, Dmitri, and of course Peter the rat.

Once the men, including my father Roberto, saw me fall off the bridge, they called off the search. I was dead.

Rhiana, my mother, lost her mind. She threw everything in sight while mourning the death of her only son. I was the Mob boss to everybody, but to her, I was always her baby boy.

Roberto tried to hold on to his wife of 30 years.

"Rhiana. Darling......please you must stay calm. Please-"

"No!!!! He's alive! I know it! He is! My one and only son is alive! Why did you let him go to Spain?!" She screamed as her soul was in pain and breaking apart.

In the liquor room, my closest men were together having a drink in honor of a me. They all searched for 3 months and later thought,

'Maybe he really is dead.'

Out of the entire mob, the four closest men to me included: Victor, Leo, Chris, and Peter.

What a traitor.

I treated him like a brother and in the end, he slaughtered me like a pig.

"I can't believe it." Victor said before drinking a shot of whiskey. "I didn't think that the bastard could leave before us."

"I just.......I just wish I never left his side. I wish I could've fought harder to save him." Leo was looking out the window somberly. "Fuck.......I can't believe it."

"Would I give anything to hear that smart mouth one more time." Chris sighed as he poured himself another drink.

"Well there is nothing we can do now boys. The only thing we can do is..... move on." Peter drank his beer without looking at any of the men. They all glared at him as if he was insane, but at the same time, he might be in mourning.

"Victor......" Leo turned to him. "We can't stop. We need to know where the Rostovs are."

"Kill the ones who are guilty. The ones who spilled his blood." Chris said. Victor looked around the room and nodded. He raised his glass of whiskey.

"To Giovanni! Where ever you are brother. We will avenge your death." Peter just glared at Victor while he raised his beer with bitterness.

"To Giovanni." Peter sighed. "I need another drink."

The day of my funeral came. Former lovers were crying. Men didn't speak. Family came from around the world to pay their respects to the fallen Mafia Boss. The cathedral was full. It was so full that there were no seats left, and people sat on the banisters and the floors.

My mother was wailing and sobbing. She kept screaming knowing he was alive. She felt it in her heart, her soul, deep in her bones.

"Roberto......Roberto no! He's not there! He's somewhere out there!" My mother was a sweet woman.

A saint.

An angel.

Roberto was a monster to everyone, but not to her because he would melt like ice cream on a hot summer day.