Page 261 of Marcello

A few minutes later, I got the shock of my life.

Lucrezia made me set up the fancy telescope she’d bought in Naples. But rather than aim it up at the sky, she pointed it towards the rolling Tuscan landscape.

She checked a compass app on her phone, then took off her sunglasses to look through the viewfinder. As she peered through the lens with her one good eye, she shielded the other side of her face with her hand so the rest of us wouldn’t see.

I still caught a brief glimpse of the scarred, empty socket. It was disturbing, especially knowing who had done it to her – and why.

“Take a look,” Lucrezia commanded as she slid on her sunglasses and stepped back.

I bent over the telescope, put my eye to the lens –

And froze.

Oh SHIT.

It was Fausto’s mansion.

I had only visited the house once, but the image was still seared in my brain.

My head was down, so nobody noticed my look of utter shock.

“And this is whose mansion?” I asked, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

“Dario Rosolini’s, you idiot,” Cesare barked.

I wanted to yell, It’s FAUSTO Rosolini’s, you fucking MORON –

But I didn’t want to have to explain how I knew that.

Lucrezia told me to tilt the lens by turning the crank on the side of the telescope. “Just a millimeter or two. We’re five miles away, so even the slightest adjustment will cause a big change.”

I did as instructed, and the image shifted from the mansion to a massive iron gate. Beyond it was a small lane bordered by thin Italian cypresses.

I remembered being driven down it by the Cosa Nostra foot soldier like it was yesterday.

Lucrezia ordered me to keep watch. I tried to keep my composure.

Part of me was like, This is it! This is how I get out from under Fausto’s thumb!

After all, his exact words were, Don’t bother contacting me again unless you have news that DIRECTLY impacts ME.

I was pretty sure that a bunch of Camorra thugs on his doorstep would qualify.

On the other hand, another part of me was like, Why the hell did Amato say this was Dario Rosolini’s house?

What the fuck happened to Fausto?

I wanted so badly to call him –

Except I was stuck babysitting the goddamn telescope. I couldn’t exactly talk to him in front of everybody else.

Hey, Fausto – guess who’s watching your front door RIGHT NOW?

But eventually I could tell the others I had to take a leak. Once I was alone, I would call Fausto –

And I would finally be free.

So would my mother, brother, and sister!