Serafina's face twisted with regret as she spoke and slapped herself hard across the cheek. The crowd gathered along the estate's low stone wall watched the heartbreaking scene, their voices filled with sorrow and sympathy. "Madonna, everyone in the territory knows how well-behaved and polite this child was. He was such a joy to be around."
"Yeah, I remember how much the Falcones loved him. Now that he's gone, how will they go on?"
"Such a tragedy. A bright little boy, the family's whole future, gone just like that. How did he suddenly drown in the pond?"
Amidst the murmurs, the Captain working the death of the Falcone heir approached me with a stern expression, a hardened man who had no love for mob families, holding a tablet against his chest. "We just pulled the watcher's tape. It clearly shows you bringing the boy here and forcing him down into the pond."
"You got anything to say about that?" he asked, and he set the tape running for everyone to see. The footage clearly showed me leading my son to the water's edge, dragging him in and holding him under until he stopped struggling. Only then did I let go.
The moment the tape ended, every eye along that wall turned toward me. Shock, anger, and hatred filled their gazes. As I watched the tape, a scene I had never once lived through, and faced the eyes of a crowd that seemed ready to tear me apart, I felt like I was reliving my previous life. That same feeling of utter helplessness and despair washed over me once again. My thumb pressed hard into the center of my left palm, the old ache surfacing where the cuffs had once bitten.
Before I could utter a single word, Serafina stormed toward me, her eyes burning with fury. She slapped me across the face, her voice shaking with rage. "Matteo, are you even human? Nico was your own blood! He was only five years old! How could you do this to him?"
My wife's hand trembled, but her slap was forceful, leaving a sharp sting on my cheek. Her bloodshot eyes glared at me with pure hatred, as if she wished she could tear me apart. Her wedding band caught the light, but her thumb had stopped turning it entirely. The scene was eerily familiar.
My heart ached with unbearable pain. Serafina hadn't listened to me then and wouldn't listen now. She had sentenced me with a single slap, crushing all my hopes. Carmela clutched my son's lifeless body, glaring at me with overwhelming grief and fury, the crucifix at her throat forgotten in her fist. "What did Nico ever do to deserve this? Why did you kill him?"
She grew increasingly hysterical, clutching her chest as if she couldn't breathe. The crowd erupted in rage, their voices filled with contempt. "This man is worse than a beast! How could he murder his own son?"
"I actually felt sorry for him when he was crying just now. Turns out he was just putting on a show! A cold-blooded killer!"
"Disgusting. A man like this doesn't deserve to be a father, or to draw breath at all!"
They began spitting at me and throwing whatever was at hand. Some pulled out their phones, filming, spreading word across the territory of what I had done. The story ran wild through every street the Family touched. Everywhere the whispers reached, people mourned my son and cursed me for a heartless father, wishing me a slow death.
Seeing that the situation was getting out of hand, the Captain's men stepped in to hold the crowd back. He fixed his eyes on me, his voice stern. "This has caused quite a stir, and it's a very serious matter. The evidence is clear. Do you have anything to say?"
I didn't hesitate. I met the Captain's eyes and spoke firmly. "I didn't kill my son. I would never harm him. Captain, I beg you. Look into this thoroughly. If you don't, the real killer walks free forever. I'm not afraid to die, but I can't let my son's death stay buried."
The Captain frowned. He clicked his pen once and held it, his gaze growing sharper and colder, as if he were looking at an incorrigible criminal.
