Chapter 224: "Jeremiah"

From the armchair, Claudio dragged a hand through his hair and looked at his wife.

"God, Maria, please." He sounded exhausted. "I know I made a mistake hiding this from you all these years. But you have Dorothy at your mercy now. There’s no reason to involve the boy. He’s only eight years old. Surely this is enough."

Maria whipped toward him.

"Enough?"

For a moment, she simply stared, then burst out laughing in disbelief.

"Ha ha ha ha! Enough? You cheated on me with this worthless little ballerina bitch, hid her from me, fathered a bastard who’s already eight fucking years old, and now you have the nerve to tell me this is enough? For fuck’s sake, my great Don Claudio of House Castellano! You took money from my family to save your House, and now you’re sitting there telling me I’ve done enough?"

Jeremy understood very little of what she was saying. Caught between the two men restraining him, he looked frantically from Maria to his mother and then to his father.

"Papà? What... what does she mean? Who is this woman? Why is she calling you Don? Why is Mamma like that?"

Claudio wouldn’t look at him, nor say anything. Jeremy pulled against the hands gripping him, desperate to make his father turn his head.

"Papà, answer me!"

Maria turned toward him, and her expression brightened with a new sort of interest.

"Oh, poor child. It appears your papà didn’t just keep me in the dark all these years. He kept you there too, hm?"

"Maria—" Claudio warned.

"Then allow Donna Maria to enlighten you, honey." She gestured toward Claudio with her cigarette. "Your father is the head of one of Borgata’s Ten Great Houses. A very powerful man, let’s say. Unfortunately, he seems to have considerably less control over his cock than he does over his business."

Jeremy’s brow drew tight.

He didn’t understand half the words, but before he could make sense of any of them, Maria continued.

"So yes, your handsome, wonderful father fucked the scheming little wench you call Mamma. Eventually, she gave birth to you. All while he was married to me."

On the floor, Dorothy began to cry.

"No. Jeremy, please, don’t listen to her. She’s lying! It isn’t true!"

She struggled against the men holding her, trying to lift herself high enough to see her son properly.

"Please... run! Just run away from here!"

Maria’s smile disappeared.

She looked down at Dorothy with open disgust, as though even the sound of her voice had become intolerable.

"Still can’t accept reality, can you? Very well. I’m about to make reality extremely clear for you, honey."

She snapped her fingers at the men.

"Gentlemen, I’m tired of looking at this little wench, and I’m certainly tired of hearing her. Shut her up for good."

Jeremy’s confusion gave way to terror as several men stepped toward his mother. Their hands disappeared beneath their jackets, and then the guns came out.

"No!"

He threw his entire body forward, trying to wrench himself free, but the men restraining him barely moved.

"No! No, no! Don’t touch my mamma! Stay away from her!"

The guns rose regardless.

His head whipped toward his father.

"Papà! Papà, what are you doing? Why aren’t you doing anything?! They’re going to kill Mamma! Do something! Please!"

Claudio sat in the armchair with his head bowed, shaking it slowly in regret.

He looked less like a man surprised by what was happening than one who had dreaded this day for years and, somewhere along the way, had already decided what he would do when it finally arrived.

Nothing.

"I’m terribly sorry, son."

He turned his gaze away.

"I tried not to visit too often, but you kept begging me to come. If I hadn’t..." He swallowed. "If you hadn’t kept asking, perhaps my wife never would have found out. We wouldn’t have had to suffer this tragedy today."

Jeremy stopped struggling.

For a moment, he couldn’t understand what his father had said.

’Because I asked him to come?’

’This happened because I wanted Papà to visit us?’

Across the room, the guns were already pointed at Dorothy.

"No!"

Jeremy bucked violently against the men holding him.

"No, don’t! Please don’t! PLEASE!"

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Dorothy’s body jerked beneath the gunfire as bullets tore into her battered face.

Blood burst across what remained of her beautiful features, destroying the face Jeremy had watched smiling at him from mirrors, bending over his coloring books, glowing beneath the lights of the ballet stage.

Jeremy watched all of it.

His mouth remained open, but no sound came out.

One of the men released Dorothy’s arm, and she fell sideways, striking the floor with a small, ordinary sound.

Thud.

Jeremy had seen her fall onstage before. Sometimes, at the end of a ballet, she lay very still while the music played.

He had once been frightened by it, but she had explained that it was only part of the performance. When the curtain rose again, she always stood up.

Jeremy stared at her, waiting for something like that to happen.

’Mamma?’

Tears ran down his cheeks.

’Mamma, get up.’

Her body remained still.

’Please, get up.’

She didn’t.

In the armchair, Claudio covered one side of his face with his hand and turned his head away.

"All right, Maria. Are you happy now? She’s dead. Gone. Shot to pieces. So stop being so fucking melodramatic and get out of here. There’s nothing left for you to enjoy."

Maria looked almost offended.

Slowly, she turned from the body and approached Jeremy, who gave no sign that he had noticed her moving closer.

Only when a manicured finger slipped beneath his chin did his gaze lift from the floor.

"You think having that wench dead is enough to ease my anger, darling?" She smiled down at the boy as she addressed his father. "Oh, no, honey. You’ve underestimated me terribly. What about this little bastard son you made with her, hm?"

The color drained from Claudio’s face.

"No."

He rose stiffly from the armchair.

"Maria, no! Honey, listen to me! He’s just a child. You’ve completely lost your mind!"

"And you, honey," Maria replied sweetly, "are going to watch your bastard son die, too. Consider it a lesson for the next time you’re tempted to let your cock run wild, breed some worthless wench, and leave dirty little bastards like this one lying around behind your wife’s back."

At that moment, Jeremy finally looked up at the woman holding his chin.

His mind was already struggling to make sense of too much at once, but Maria’s last words tore his attention away from everything else.

’She’s going to kill me too.’

Until that afternoon, death had been something Jeremy knew about without ever having to think about it.

People died in stories.

Sometimes they died on the news.

He had never imagined that someone might decide to kill him simply because they were angry, or that his father might be sitting in the same room when it happened.

He searched Maria’s face for some sign that she was only trying to frighten him, but there was none.

’She’ll really do it.’

"No..."

His voice came out so faintly that he wasn’t sure she’d heard.

"No... please don’t kill me."

Maria regarded him with mild amusement.

"What was that, little bastard?"

"Please, Donna..." Jeremy swallowed. "Please don’t kill me. You can’t kill me. I’m... I’m your husband’s son too."

"Oh?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"You’re my husband’s little bastard. I’m already aware of that."

Her smile sharpened.

"So?"

Jeremy had no answer ready.

He had never needed to persuade anyone to let him live before, and the rules of such a conversation were terribly difficult to work out. ⅇ𝒃𝚗ℴ

"So... so if you’re his wife, and I’m his son, then... then..." He stumbled over the words. "Then I can be your son too! If you spare me, I promise I’ll be good to you. I promise I’ll be a good son!"

Maria’s eyebrow rose a fraction higher.

Jeremy could see that she was listening, but he could also tell it wasn’t enough. His terrified gaze swept over her, desperately searching for anything else he could use.

Her immaculate hair.

Her fur coat.

Her manicured nails.

The way she carried herself like someone accustomed to having everyone in the room beneath her.

"Please, Donna! You’re... you’re such a beautiful and refined woman! You have no reason to dirty your hands with the blood of a bastard like me."

Maria’s eyebrows rose higher still, and Jeremy hurried on.

"And... and I don’t even have a mamma anymore! So... so I can be your son. I want to be your son! Please! Please let me become your son!"

Something in Maria’s expression eased. She finally looked at him properly — not merely as evidence of her husband’s betrayal, but as a child kneeling before her with enough sense to beg for his life.

"Ah. This little bastard seems to have better manners than his wench of a mother, doesn’t he?"

Her lips curled.

"You’ve inherited your father’s fine features, and you have a sweet little tongue that knows how to tell a woman what she wants to hear."

Jeremy nodded at once.

"Yes, Donna—"

He caught himself.

"No. Mamma."

Maria’s eyes brightened.

Jeremy noticed immediately.

"Yes, Mamma!" he repeated, more eagerly. "I’m a lot like Papà. But I’ll be good to you, I promise. I’ll always be your loving son. Please, Mamma, just let me live!"

Maria laughed softly, studying him with an amusement that Jeremy couldn’t understand.

"Oh, dear. Look at this desperate little thing. Tell me, what’s your name again?"

"I’m... I’m Jeremy, Mamma." He swallowed. "My name is Jeremy."

"Jeremy."

She repeated it thoughtfully, then tightened her fingers around his chin and turned his face to one side.

Jeremy let her. When she turned it the other way, he followed obediently, although her grip hurt.

"All right, little Jeremy."

She smiled.

"Since you’ve begged me so beautifully, and that sweet little mouth of yours has pleased me so much, I suppose... I can let you live."

Her gaze slid toward Claudio before returning to the boy.

"You’ll live as a little reminder to my husband. A reminder of what will happen if he ever dares pull something like this again. Can you do that for me, Jeremy?"

"Yes, Mamma!" Jeremy was already nodding so hard it hurt. "I can! And I will. I promise I will!"

"Good child." She stroked his cheek with satisfaction. "Though... there’s one little problem."

Jeremy stiffened.

"P-problem?"

"Of course, darling." Maria sighed. "That name of yours is rather unpleasant to my ears. It reminds me too much of this filthy wench. How about I give you a new name?"

She looked upward thoughtfully.

"Let’s see... what should I call you?"

A moment later, her face brightened.

"Ah! How about Jeremiah?"

Jeremy blinked.

"J-Jeremiah?"

"Mm-hm." Maria nodded, visibly pleased with herself. "You see, I already have two beautiful sons, both a little older than you. My lovely Hezekiah and Zachariah. And since you’ve begged so sweetly to become my son, wouldn’t it be appropriate for you to become my Jeremiah as well?"

For one dangerous second, Jeremy almost let his disgust show.

’Jeremiah?’

’What sort of ridiculous name is that?’

He wanted to turn around, to see whether his mother might somehow have moved, but he forced himself to keep looking at Maria.

’Don’t look.’

If he looked at Mamma, he might start crying again.

If he cried, he might stop talking, and if he stopped talking, he might die.

"Y-yes, Mamma. T-that’s an amazing idea!"

His voice broke, but he made himself smile — the kind of smile he hoped she would like.

"I’ll be your Jeremiah! I’ll be anything you want me to become!"