Chapter 10 - Rosso

3 years ago, something occurred that Giovanni would never forget. The day his wife looked at him with disdain, chained to a chair, he laughed and therefore shot her in the head. 

Rosso was a mysterious person who was frustrating his business. And everything that was stolen or destroyed was delivered to the Russian mafia. 

It took two years of investigation to find that name and months before they ran into the traitor. 

That day, he left home, his wife gave him a kiss and said good luck. He stroked the head of the children and left them sleeping. 

The operation was a careful operation that only a few trusted personnel knew. They needed a secret spy who was able to pass on the information at the last minute before he died.

 A recording that made Giovanni not believe his eyes. Until he saw for himself in the next operation, where Natasha spoke in Russian about the "products.". She sat on the merchandise of weapons and laughed. 

Giovanni couldn’t believe it. The woman he loved for years. They met in college. She was his biggest traitor.  His heart quickened and anger boiled within him. 

He had been careful and had found nothing dangerous in her history. Just a normal woman, adopted by a family of quiet historians and who attended administration. 

Natasha had always been a good wife. Delicate, kind and who loved her children. Little Laura, 2, and Lorenzo, 15. How could she betray her family? 

Without thinking, in an impetus, he approached. The anger in his eyes was visible. 

Giovanni removed her cell phone from the floor and broke it. He took it by the red hair, causing the woman to look at him in a surprised look. 

"Giovanni. It’s not what you think." she said, trembling. 

"No, Natasha? If that’s really your name. I’m blind now? How long? Since college?" He tightened her hair even more, pulling it down. 

The feeling of betrayal, shame, and sorrow overwhelmed him. He wanted to kill her right there, but it was necessary to be calm. 

"You saw wrong, Giovanni. I swear." She started crying, but he didn’t believe her.

Suddenly, another cell phone started playing. The sound came from her purse. 

Giovanni made a signal and one of his men caught him. Natasha screamed desperately. 

"No. No, no, no." 

"Want to be saved? Answer as if nothing is happening." He instructed coldly. 

She obeyed.

"Hi, Rosso. I’m getting the package. Wait there for another 5 minutes." A male voice said. 

And Giovanni was angry. That was the proof he needed. His body contracted from anger, but he had to be cold. 

A small silent bomb was tied in her hands. Everyone was quiet and hid, but Natasha knew that there were several guns pointed at her head. 

His heart was torn between protecting her and shooting the bomb on purpose to see his wife fall apart. Wife, that word seemed so wrong in your mind at that time. 

A truck arrived, several Russians came down, it was noticeable by the language they spoke. 

They greeted Natasha until they noticed something wrong. The bomb in her hands. 

The men tried to escape, but the Italians killed them quickly. Natasha screamed, afraid that they would hit the bomb. However, it did not happen. 

"Arrest her. And clean up this mess." Giovanni ordered. 

At the end of the night, he knew what he had to do. Betrayals were not allowed and were his wife’s. Well, the husband himself had to do the job. 

His men had bound her with chains in a tight chair. She cried compulsively, but Giovanni no longer had any reaction or Piety. Only anger dominated her being. 

"Giovanni. Dear, please." Natasha tried to beg again, but upon noticing her cold eyes, she stopped. 

Her gaze was directed at her when he pointed the gun at her head. And a smile appeared on her face. 

"Is it funny to keep up your charade for so long, you bitch? " he asked, staring at her gaze. 

"Yes, it is." Natasha replied without emotion. " But, not everything was a farce."

"No?" he asked coldly. 

"I still love you. And our children." 

"Great way to demonstrate. Like a traitor." 

"I’m faithful to my family." 

"I thought we were your family." Giovanni countered, with inner sadness. " You’re someone who must have made our children to arrest me, manipulative bitch." he said, holding her chin. 

He put the gun even closer to her head.

"I swear I won’t." she said with a coldness and seriousness worthy of a mafia woman. " I love our children, they are my treasures. I would never use them to manipulate you."

But at that moment, Giovanni could not believe anything else. 

"Are the children really mine?" 

Now her expression has become a mixture of sadness and anger. 

"Of course they are. I would never do something like that. Laura and Lorenzo are your legitimate children. I..." 

"A bitch who cheats on her husband for years can do anything."

"Giovanni, dear, I swear..." her bright eyes looked at him, begging him to believe her.

"If you swear, you shouldn’t have betrayed our family." 

"Russia is also my family." 

And with his hands trembling with hatred, Giovanni shot. Without guilt, sadness or sentimentality. He just did his job. 

But still, you know. The shadow of that woman still haunted him and, even though he had done so many DNA tests, something inside him seemed not to love those children as his. 

He came home that day, rubbed all the blood that had come from her toward his body and promised you no more traitors in your family. 

He would not allow love or let himself be deceived again, and as for children.

Giovanni left the room and ordered all of Natasha’s photos removed from the house. 

Lorenzo woke up that day, his eyes startled to see his father’s expression. 

"Dad, what’s going on?" 

Something twisted inside Giovanni. Being called a father reminded him of that woman and even if the children were identical to him, the doubt now ran through his heart. 

"Nothing to worry about, Lorenzo. Go back to sleep."

"Where is the mother?" the boy asked with a certain ingenuity. 

And Giovanni looked at him coldly. 

"She’s not coming back, Lorenzo. Forget her. She’s dead." 

----

Giovanni threw his head back against the back of the chair. The Martini moved in his glass as he smoked a cigarette. 

That scene flashed in his mind several times. Some unfortunate man slammed the door. He was supposed to shoot the person or ignore it, but Giovanni heard her voice. And something inside him caved.