Loe felt a chill run down his spine. "What? What do you mean?" as his voice filled with confusion
Thomas sighed, the lines on his face deepening as he continued. "Alphonse was at the center of it all. He was ruthless, and his influence ran deep. But I couldn't just stand by and watch as his influence tore the city apart.... So after weeks of tracking him, I managed to track him down and corner him. We fought—viciously. He was a formidable opponent, but in the end, I had the upper hand. I could have ended him right then and there, but something stopped me. I saw a glimpse of humanity in him, a flicker of something that made me hesitate. I let him go, and it's a decision that's haunted me ever since."
Loe stood frozen, his mind struggling to process the bombshell Thomas had just dropped. The man who had raised him, had once fought Albert Capone's father, Alphonse Capone. And more than that—Thomas had known all along who Albert was.
Loe's voice trembled as he spoke, "So, you mean you already knew my boss, Albert Capone, before he died?"
Thomas nodded, his face etched with regret. "Yes, Loe. I knew who he was. That's why my decisions... why I regret them so much."
A mix of emotions surged within Loe—shock, betrayal, confusion. He looked at Thomas, his eyes searching for answers, but finding only more questions. "You regret it? What exactly?"
Thomas sighed deeply, the weight of his past bearing down on him. "After I saw what Albert became, after I heard about the lives he took, and after I realized he was Alphonse's son, that's when I regretted not ending Alphonse when I had the chance. Because I hesitated, because I let him live, his son Albert grew up to cause even more pain and death—especially in New York, in Manhattan."
The room felt heavy with the gravity of Thomas's words. Mindy, who had been silently listening, felt a deep awkwardness. She could sense the tension between Loe and Thomas, and she didn't know where she fit into this revelation. She glanced at Loe, her heart sinking as she saw the sadness in his eyes.
Loe's fists clenched, his emotions a tangled mess of loyalty and pain. "Don't say that about my boss... Yeah, I know Albert was evil. I know what he did, but... he was also like a father to me before you took me in. Because of him, I survived on the streets. I owe him my life." Loe's voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.
Thomas's expression softened, a mixture of sorrow and understanding in his gaze. "I know, Loe. I know how much he meant to you. That's why I'm grateful to him too, in a way. He kept you alive when no one else could. But I can't forgive him for the things he made you do."
Loe felt a deep, conflicting pain gnawing at his insides. On one hand, he couldn't deny the truth in Thomas's words. He knew what Albert had done, the lives he had destroyed. But on the other hand, Albert had been the one who had given Loe a chance when no one else would, the one who had kept him alive.
The room grew silent as both men wrestled with their emotions. Loe couldn't bring himself to look at Thomas, the man who had taken him in and shown him a better way, but also the man who had kept this secret from him for so long.
Mindy, sensing the depth of Loe's turmoil, reached out a hand to him, her eyes filled with sympathy. But Loe couldn't bear to look at her either. He felt torn between the past that had shaped him and the future he was trying to build.
Finally, Thomas broke the silence, his voice heavy with emotion. "Look...Loe, I'm not asking you to forget what Albert did for you. I'm not even asking you to hate him. But I need you to understand that I just... Don't want you to become like him..."
Loe nodded slowly, the words sinking as he felt complicated emotion. "I know, old man. I know..."
.................
In the dimly lit room, the flickering light from a nearby lamp cast long shadows over Alphonse Capone as he sat in his ornate chair, the aging king of a crumbling empire. The wine in his glass swirled lazily, a dark reflection of his own turbulent thoughts. He stared at the portrait on the wall—a frozen image of happier times, with his wife and three children beside him. But those days were long gone, and the bitterness in his voice was evident as he muttered, "Tsk, that useless son of mine. Why did he have to die?"
His eyes lingered on the face of his son, Albert Capone, in the portrait. The disappointment weighed heavily on him. "Useless." he spat, though the pain behind the word was unmistakable.
Just then, the door to the room creaked open. Alphonse's sharp gaze snapped to the intruder, his hand instinctively tightening around his glass. "What is it?" he demanded, his voice carrying the authority of a man who was not to be disturbed lightly.
A man in his thirties, with a deep scar running down the side of his face, stepped into the room. His presence was commanding, almost as if the room itself had shifted to accommodate his arrival. There was a knowing smirk on his face as he addressed Alphonse. "I bet you already know who I am."
Alphonse's eyes narrowed as memories flooded back. He recognized the man immediately. "69..." he muttered, the number triggering a flashback to a time when he had seen this man, Litzo, standing alongside his old associate, Atlas Pendragon. Atlas had been the boss of the infamous 69 Group, a man of power and influence who had once saved Alphonse in his youth.
Litzo nodded, the smirk never leaving his face. "Indeed, I am. It seems like you still remember me from back then."
Alphonse leaned back in his chair, his eyes not leaving Litzo's. "What are you doing here? Does Sir Atlas have something to say?"
Litzo's expression remained smug as he replied, "The schedule for the delivery has been changed."
Alphonse's grip on his glass tightened, a cold dread creeping into his gut. "What? What do you mean?" His voice, usually so controlled, wavered slightly.
"Boss said that instead of one week, we proceed in five days." Litzo explained, his tone matter-of-fact, but with an underlying menace.
Litzo, noticing the struggle in Alphonse's eyes, smirked with a cold, calculated expression. He relished the sight of the once-powerful man now grappling with fear and uncertainty. "If you don't do as the deal requires..." Litzo's voice trailed off menacingly as he leaned in closer, locking eyes with Alphonse. His gaze was sharp, unyielding, like a predator sizing up its prey. "...Prepare for the consequences."
The threat hung heavy in the air, thick with implications. Litzo's words were not just a warning; they were a promise of the doom that awaited if Alphonse failed to deliver.
Without waiting for a response, Litzo turned his back on Alphonse, his smirk widening as he walked away, leaving Alphonse to stew in his anxiety. The door closed behind him with a final, echoing thud, sealing Alphonse in his own thoughts—a mix of fear, regret, and a desperate need to find a way out of the mess that was rapidly spiraling beyond his control.
The wine in Alphonse's hand trembled as he brought the glass to his lips, taking a long, slow sip in an attempt to steady his nerves. But no amount of alcohol could dull the dread that had settled in his gut. The clock was ticking, and for the first time in his life, Alphonse Capone felt the very real possibility of defeat looming on the horizon.
..............
The noon sun lit up the Hilton family's large estate, surrounded by lush greenery. The air was fresh, and a gentle breeze moved the leaves as a helicopter's blades whirred. Chris Hilton, an 18-year-old with curly, stylish hair, stood next to his father, Conrad Hilton, on the helipad. Chris, dressed in a sharp 1950s suit, looked confident and poised, ready to take on the responsibilities of being the future heir to one of the world's wealthiest families.
Conrad Hilton, a man of stature with a commanding presence, glanced at his son, his eyes softening with a rare display of fatherly pride. Today was important, a day when Chris would be introduced to the intricate workings of the family empire—a crucial step in his journey to eventually take the reins of the Hilton dynasty.
"Are you ready, Chris?" Conrad asked, his voice a mix of authority and encouragement.
Chris smirked, his youthful bravado shining through. "I'm always ready."
Conrad chuckled, a small smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to pat his son's head—a rare show of affection from a man who was usually more focused on business deals than being a dad. "That's my son."
With that, they boarded the sleek, black helicopter, the rotors whirring to life as the pilot prepared for takeoff. As the helicopter ascended, lifting off the ground, Chris found himself staring out the window, watching their huge estate grow smaller below. His mind then began to wander, thoughts drifting away from the imminent business meeting and towards his friends—friends he hadn't seen for almost two week.
"I wonder what my friends are doing.." Chris mused silently, feeling a bit lonely. The pressures of being the Hilton heir often left him feeling isolated, his life dictated by responsibilities that his peers could hardly imagine. He sighed, feeling the weight of his family's expectations as the helicopter flew through the sky.
Conrad noticed the shift in his son's demeanor. Though the elder Hilton was a man driven by ambition and success, he knew it was important to look out for his son's well-being too as he doesn't want to repeat those days again. Determined to be a better father, Conrad leaned closer, his voice gentler than usual. "You know, Chris," Conrad began, his tone soft yet firm, "It's okay to miss your friends. But don't worry—you can see them if you want."
Chris turned to his father, seeing not just the powerful business magnate but also the man who understood the weight of the expectations on his shoulders. A small smile tugged at Chris's lips as he replied, "Thanks, Dad... But it's my responsibility as the heir of the Hilton family. I can't see them for now, not until I've fulfilled my duties."
Conrad's eyes filled with pride as he reached out to pat Chris on the head. "That's my boy.." he said warmly, appreciating the maturity his son was showing. Chris nodded, feeling a sense of determination solidify within him. The path ahead might be demanding, but he was ready to face it.
............
Mark Fletcher lounged on the comfortable couch in the living room, the ceiling fan above creating a gentle breeze. He thought about his earlier conversation with Michael, going over the advice and plans they had discussed. As he was thinking the house was peaceful, with only the soft sounds of dishes clinking coming from the kitchen, where his sister Mary was making snacks.
....
[A Few Hours Earlier]
Michael fixed his gaze on Mark and Loe, his expression serious. "For now, you two should head home."
Mark's brow furrowed with concern. "What about our vigilante work?"
Michael shook his head with a firm but reassuring look. "Let me handle it. What you two need to do is prepare for tomorrow. You're heading to Chicago, right?"
Mark hesitated, clearly unsettled. "But—"
Michael cut him off with a steady tone. "Listen, Mark. You need to tell Mary, your sister, that you'll be gone for a week."
Mark's expression turned troubled. "Yeah, that's also what's worrying me."
Michael placed a comforting hand on Mark's shoulder. "Don't worry. Mary will be staying at my place for the week. I'll make sure she's looked after."
Mark nodded gratefully, feeling a bit of relief. "Thanks, Michael. I appreciate it."
Michael's face softened into a warm smile. "No problem. Mary's my girlfriend, and you're my best friend. It's the least I can do."
Mark chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, technically, I'm your brother-in-law."
Michael laughed, shaking his head. "Already? Hey.. we're still just 18!"
Loe, who had been observing the exchange with a bemused expression, finally allowed a small smile to break through. Michael turned to him, his demeanor shifting to a more serious tone. "As for you, Loe, you need to—"
Loe interrupted with a casual shrug and a sassy grin. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I've got to take care of this girl." he said, gesturing towards Mindy.
Mindy, caught off guard, looked at Loe with wide, admiring eyes, her cheeks flushed. She seemed mesmerized, almost as if she were a deer caught in headlights.
Loe sighed, visibly uncomfortable with the attention. "Stop looking at me like that."
Mindy blushed deeper and stammered, "S-sorry." Her voice was barely above a whisper, clearly overwhelmed by her feelings for Loe.
Michael and Mark exchanged amused glances, both enjoying the light-hearted moment.
.......
[Back to the Present]
Mark turned his gaze towards Mary, who was arranging a tray of snacks. She hummed softly to herself, clearly enjoying the task. Her presence was a comforting constant in his life, and Mark knew that telling her about the upcoming trip to Chicago was important.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that had been building up. Now was the moment to share the news with her, to explain why he'd be away and to ensure she felt reassured about her stay with Michael.
Mark pushed himself up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, where Mary was busy with her culinary creations. He cleared his throat gently, drawing her attention away from the snacks.
To be continue