The Don's last supper

Revenge is a dish best served cold. At least, that is what they say. No one can say I don’t listen to good advice. I will have my revenge; I will make them all pay and watch as they squirm in agony until I’m ready to put them out of their misery. They don’t know what is coming for them.

Nancy

“Miss Nancy Young?” I turned towards the kind voice and saw an elderly man in a black morning coat and striped trousers.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Welcome to Rimi Manor. I’m Mr. Miles, the head butler,” the man said with a slight bow.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Mr. Herthford let us know you were coming, and we have prepared a guest room for your stay. Miss Billings will take you there. Afternoon tea will be served in the drawing-room at four,” he informed me. I nodded and then followed a young girl who guided me through the manor. I didn’t belong here. Every surface of the place was laced with wealth and power. This was the seat of power for the ruling mafia family in the state. The Rimi family had a hand in everything from gun-smuggling to booze and gambling. They were old money; rumours said they had been in the business back in the old country as well. Old man Rimi, the current Don’s grandfather, had taken the chance to leave the old country but took the family business with him.

“This will be your room, Miss,” the maid told me and showed me into a room that left me breathless. The apartment I lived in could easily fit inside this room.

“Thank you,” I said. She curtsied and left. My suitcase, battered and worn, stood beside the enormous bed. I unpacked my things and took out the invitation. My fingers travelled over the white paper with neatly written letters.

‘

We hereby formally invite you to attend the reading of the last will and testament of Giovana Teresa Rimi. The reading will take place at the Rimi estate and will be conducted over a period of seven days. If you choose not to attend, or leave before the seven days are over, your inheritance will be forfeited and distributed between the remaining heirs.

Yours truly

Armand Herthford – Attorney-at-law’

That is why I was here. I was mentioned in Mrs Rimi’s will. It had earned me a spot among the rich and powerful. I was conflicted about it, but I came. I knew I would stand out like a sore thumb. I had scraped and done extra shifts at the diner where I worked to afford some new dresses. Still, they would not come close to what the other women would be wearing, and I needed to reuse them. There was no way I could afford seven new tea gowns and seven new evening dresses.

As I got ready, I tried to pep talk myself. The light grey dress with the drop-down waist and black trims was not high-end, but it looked nice enough. My hair was pinned up in curls, creating the illusion of a short hairstyle. I went easy on the make-up. At five to four, I walked into the drawing-room.

“Miss Young,” Mr Miles announced as I did. A crowd of people turned around and looked at me. I froze in place, waiting for something to happen. All the people scrutinised me, and I felt my hands start to sweat. Then, just as quickly as their attention had honed in on me, they dismissed me. I drew in a shaky breath and tried to figure out what I would do with myself.

“Hello, I’m Milo Rimi,” a man said, holding out his hand towards me.

“Hi, Nancy Young,” I said, shaking it.

“I know. You were the only one on the list I didn’t know,” he told me with a relaxed smile. “You’re not part of the family,” he pointed out.

“I’m not,” I agreed.

“I am, obviously. I’m just not part of the branch that counts,” he told me. Despite his relaxed smile, I could see something cold in his eyes.

“I have no idea what that means,” I said. He chuckled.

“It means my grandfather was old man Rimi’s older brother, but my father was a bastard and therefore neither him nor I were fit to be sitting on the main branch of the family tree,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said, not knowing what I should say.

“Over there, by the fireplace, is my, well, let’s call him my cousin for simplicity’s sake. The head of the family, Don Alexander Rimi. The dark-haired beauty trying to hump his leg is his official mistress, Ava. Rumour has it they were a thing before his late wife was killed in that car accident.”

“Rita?” I asked.

“Yes, you knew her?”

“She was my cousin,” I said. I watched Milo go a little paler.

“I’m sorry. If I had known...” he told me.

“It’s okay. She has been gone for three years,” I said.

“Were you close? I don’t think I ever heard her talk about you. Fuck! Sorry, and sorry for swearing. I really can’t seem to keep my foot out of my mouth this afternoon,” he said. He made me smile. There was an endearing clumsiness to him. Like a puppy that hadn’t grown into his paws yet.

“I didn’t take offence. We weren’t close. When Rita met her husband, she cut all ties with her family. We didn’t fit the image,” I told him. The maid brought in a tea trolley and served everyone tea. There were also light refreshments. Milo stayed at my side as we settled down.

“I don’t think we have met before. I’m Victoria Rimi, Don Alexander’s mother,” a woman told me. She had dark hair cut in a trendy bob, and her dress was black with silver ribbons. There was a fringe at the bottom of it. It skirted the line between tea gown and evening dress.

“A pleasure,” I said with a nod.

“It really isn’t” Milo whispered to me. I lifted my teacup, pretending to sip on the tea, to hide my smile.

“May I please get your attention?” an older gentleman said. The room went quiet, and everyone looked at him. “Thank you. For those who don’t know me, I’m Armand Herthford, the late Mrs. Rimi’s lawyer. I’m here to make sure everything goes according to the last wish of Mrs. Rimi. You have all received an invitation where the rules have been explained. You will all stay here, at the manor, for a week, seven days,” he told us. “You are free to do what you wish during the days, even leaving the manor. You all need to be back here at seven thirty P.M. to take part in the family dinner. During the dinner, a part of the late Mrs. Rimi’s last will and testament will be read. If you do not show up for dinner, or if you leave in the middle of it, you won’t inherit anything. That was all. I will see you at dinner; have a pleasant afternoon,” he finished and left the room.

“This will be interesting,” Milo whispered.

“How so?” I asked.

“My great-aunt was the one holding the family money. Somehow she convinced my great-uncle it was better to let her have control over it than any of the sons.”

“Oh, I see. So now no one will skip the seven dinners as they all want their share of the fortune,” I added. He nodded.

“I haven’t figured out where you fit into this mess yet,” he told me.

“When you find out, let me know,” I said, and he gave me another smile.