Marcello stood against his father because he understood the consequences of his father's reckless actions. It wasn't just their protection at risk—their infighting would invite other families, enemies who despised theirs, to exploit the weakness.
If things continued like this, the family would collapse. Or worse, its very core would be lost.
There would be no recovering from that and this was the last thing Marcello wanted.
He understood his father's approach to things were archaic and they needed change but Giovanni's way would turn them into nothing more than a violent gang.
Marcello knew he couldn't let that happen. He decided to confront the head of the opposing faction directly. He had to make them see reason otherwise they might as well destroy everything they had built.
The eting was risky. The other side might use the chance to eliminate him, but Marcello banked on one thing—they needed soone directly tied to the Don to legitimize any deal. That leverage was his only shield.
Crossing his father had never once crossed his mind. Even now, he wasn't betraying him. He hated the direction things had taken and knew he had to stop it before everything boiled over.
The man agreed to et. Marcello arranged it in one of their strongholds, a place still loyal to his father. He wasn't about to step into enemy territory, no matter how many reassurances he was given.
Would those reassurances an anything if the eting went sideways? Probably not.
Marcello prepared himself, planning to go alone, but ensuring there was always a way out.
Hours later, the opposing man arrived. As expected, he didn't co alone. Several faces Marcello recognized trailed behind him—n who once swore loyalty but had since defected.
Marcello's eyes hardened. If he wanted to, this man could wipe out their bloodline right here. The Don was weak, vulnerable. But Marcello wasn't doing this for himself. This was for the sake of the family.
"I'm glad you could join , Giovanni," Marcello said, gesturing for him to sit.
The way Marcello addressed him made it clear they had once been close friends despite their age difference.
"I would have liked to et under different circumstances…" Giovanni said, but Marcello laughed it off.
He noticed Giovanni's n had their hands resting on their guns. The restaurant was empty now, cleared out except for them and the chef.
"I ca here because I heard you want to speak. Has the old man co to his senses?" Giovanni asked right away.
"We can talk business after our bellies are full," Marcello replied. "This might be the last ti we eat like this, so let's enjoy it as old friends." He gestured for the waiter.
Naturally, Giovanni was suspicious. Still, he knew Marcello wouldn't have arranged this without an escape plan. The boy was young, but he wasn't naive. That's why Giovanni suspected winning him over might be the only real path forward.
If not, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in his head.
"Are you scared?" Marcello grinned, staring straight into Giovanni's eyes.
"Hahaha! Scared? Why would I be scared?" Giovanni barked back, though silence followed.
"Because you're within reach of my fangs," Marcello said, mimicking a biting tiger. Giovanni chuckled.
He knew Marcello might be smart, but he lacked the brutality needed to enforce his ideals. Just like his father—passive, hesitant. That weakness was why their family was falling apart.
They ate together, spoke like old friends, but once the al ended, they both knew it was ti to get down to business.
"Now, what did you want to talk about?" Giovanni asked.
Marcello grinned. "This…"
He dropped a gun onto the table. Instantly, Giovanni's n drew their weapons and aid at him.
Giovanni raised his hand, ordering them down. Marcello wasn't even paying them attention.
The gun was a revolver. Marcello set it down along with a single bullet.
"What are you doing?" Giovanni asked, narrowing his eyes.
"One of us walks out of here alive," Marcello said calmly. "The one who leaves this room… will have everything."
Marcello's voice didn't waver, but inside, he was petrified. This was madness—a fifty-fifty chance at survival. Yet he knew it was the quickest way to end it.
"Are you mad?" Giovanni asked, unsure if this was a ga.
"I have everything to lose, Giovanni. So do you. The question is… how much do you want this?" Marcello said, picking up the bullet.
Giovanni glanced around. His n were watching closely. This was a test of his resolve. If he backed down, it would show he wasn't willing to risk his life for power.
Before he could respond, Marcello suddenly burst out laughing.
"I'm just playing," he said, and a few of Giovanni's n chuckled too.
"You still have your sense of hum—" Giovanni stopped mid-sentence. His eyes fixed on the bullet. Sothing was written on it.
"Is the joke over?" Giovanni asked quickly, but Marcello's expression had shifted, his eyes now cold and lifeless.
"It is," Marcello said flatly. "This bullet is for you."
On the casing, clear as day, was Giovanni's na.
"I could kill you right now," Giovanni growled, pulling his weapon.
Marcello didn't flinch. "You can? Then do it."
Giovanni drew, aid directly at him, but didn't fire. Marcello stared him down, unshaken. He knew Giovanni could have killed him at any point. The fact he hadn't ant sothing.
"See? You can't. So put it away and sit down. You're in my house," Marcello ordered, his tone carrying the authority his father had lost.
The room froze. They had never seen Marcello like this before. His fury, his frustration, all laid bare. Giovanni sucked his teeth but holstered his gun and sat down.
"I have a proposal," Marcello said.
Marcello wasn't respected by the rest of the family and this was the major reason why they didn't see him as the successor to the current Don. He was far too focused on his daughter to care about anything else, that was his true family and there was no way soone with a weakness as obvious as that could lead them into the new era.
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