Antonio

It was a hot Sunday on the outskirts of Naples. A family reunion was taking place at the Mancini family's country house: red wine, roast meat, children's laughter, and Italian music playing in the background. But behind the smiles, there was tension in the air, as thick as the smoke from the grill.

Antonio Mancini, known in the underworld as Il Toro, was a respected and feared mobster. His wife, Luisa, was the only one capable of calming his storms. Dark-haired, sweet, and with a strong character, she cared for her two young children while carrying their third child in her womb, six months pregnant.

Among the guests was Riccardo, a young lawyer recently recruited by the clan, with smooth manners and excessive confidence. Since he arrived, he hadn't taken his eyes off Luisa. And worse: she was laughing with him. Antonio watched him from the shade of a lemon tree, drinking slowly, his jaw clenched.

"Is everything alright, boss?" his cousin Salvatore asked, noticing the tense silence.

Antonio didn't answer. He just left the glass on the table and walked towards the garden, where Luisa was fanning herself while Riccardo was telling her something, too close.

"Luisa," Antonio said in a serious voice, "the children are looking for you. They say they want you to serve them the ice cream."

She understood instantly. She got up with a forced smile and walked away.

"—And you?" Antonio said to Riccardo, now with his eyes fixed on his—"Do you want ice cream too? Because you're melting too close to my wife."

Riccardo swallowed, but tried to stay firm.

"We were just talking, sir. I find her dedication admirable. She's... special."

Antonio took a step closer. —Of course she's special. That's why she's with me. And that's why you're going to forget what you saw, thought, or felt today. Okay?

—Yes, sir. Very clear.

Antonio smiled humorlessly, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away.

That night, when everyone was asleep, Luisa and Antonio were on the terrace.

It was a hot Sunday on the outskirts of Naples. A family reunion was taking place at the Mancini family's country house: red wine, roast meat, children's laughter, and Italian music playing in the background. But behind the smiles, there was tension in the air, as thick as the smoke from the grill.

Antonio Mancini, known in the underworld as Il Toro, was a respected and feared mobster. His wife, Luisa, was the only one capable of calming his storms. Dark-haired, sweet, and with a strong character, she cared for her two young children while carrying their third child in her womb, six months pregnant.

Among the guests was Riccardo, a young lawyer recently recruited by the clan, with smooth manners and excessive confidence. Since he arrived, he hadn't taken his eyes off Luisa. And worse: she was laughing with him. Antonio watched him from the shade of a lemon tree, drinking slowly, his jaw clenched.

"Is everything alright, boss?" his cousin Salvatore asked, noticing the tense silence.

Antonio didn't answer. He just left the glass on the table and walked towards the garden, where Luisa was fanning herself while Riccardo was telling her something, too close.

"Luisa," Antonio said in a serious voice, "the children are looking for you. They say they want you to serve them the ice cream."

She understood instantly. She got up with a forced smile and walked away.

"—And you?" Antonio said to Riccardo, now with his eyes fixed on his—"Do you want ice cream too? Because you're melting too close to my wife."

Riccardo swallowed, but tried to stay firm.

"We were just talking, sir. I find her dedication admirable. She's... special."

Antonio took a step closer. —Of course she's special. That's why she's with me. And that's why you're going to forget what you saw, thought, or felt today. Okay?

—Yes, sir. Very clear.

Antonio smiled humorlessly, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away.

That night, when everyone was asleep, Luisa and Antonio were on the terrace.