Sour Minds

"The sourness of life is arbitrary."

Mr. Massino, Mr. Coppola, and Mr. Calel sat inside Mr. Massino's study. His face was flushed with anger, his grip tightening around a glass of whisky—until it shattered in his fist.

"There's no harm in speaking with Mr. Salt," Mr. Coppola said lightly. "Glenn was British, and he died on our land. I know he tried to steal from us, and what happened to him was justified. But if we don't want to sever our ties with the British, a meeting is necessary."

"The issue isn't talking to Mr. Salt," Massino growled. "It's the idea of me answering to him. I don't owe anyone an explanation for Glenn's death. If a man—regardless of his nationality—tries to steal from me, his fate will be the same. If I run to London just because some idiot thinks he's owed an explanation, what respect would I have left?" He leaned forward, his gaze hard. "VPS only thinks about unity because it values strength. But I understand something far more important in this business—dignity. Mr. Salt may be a big shot in England, but his command is nothing more than a request—one I can easily ignore."

Pouring himself another glass of whisky, Massino downed it in a single motion.

Mr. Calel glanced at his wristwatch. "It's getting late. I have to leave for Pakistan—an important meeting. Some people want to see my product. If they like it, they'll pay handsomely."

Massino waved a dismissive hand. "Go. This meeting is over. There's nothing more to discuss."

Calel nodded, bowing slightly before making his exit.

Mr. Massino rose from his chair and walked toward the bar.

"Frederick, listen to me," Mr. Coppola sighed.

"Calling me by my first name won't change anything," Massino replied coldly. "I've made my decision, and nothing in this world will change it."

"Why? Shouldn't we be more open-minded? Expanding your empire was always your dream, and forging strong alliances is essential to that."

"I don't need a lecture from you about my own ambitions," Massino said, his voice edged with bitterness. "I haven't forgotten anything, Wilfred. I still hold that dream—the same dream I had when I took over from my father. But alliances don't mean submission. Respect is a two-way street. If they want mine, they must give me theirs."

He exhaled sharply and continued, his tone darkening. "VPS distances himself from the harsh realities of the underworld because he believes in brotherhood over power. He thrives on loyalty, on the people around him. But I don't see the world that way—not out of arrogance, but because I've lived its brutal truths.

"VPS wasn't there when I was breaking my back every day just to keep myself and Sonny's mother alive after Valentina killed my father. I wanted revenge, but instead, I chose patience. Most of you have conveniently forgotten the hell Valentina put me and my family through.

"There were days when I had to watch my pregnant wife go hungry because that bastard had threatened anyone who dared to help us. While his wife gave birth surrounded by midwives, mine had to endure labor with nothing. Do you know what it feels like to be the son of Marco Massino and have to beg a street beggar for a cup of water—just to keep your wife alive?"

His grip tightened around the glass in his hand, his knuckles turning white. His voice trembled, not with weakness, but with the weight of the past.

"You might have moved on. But I haven't."

With a sudden burst of fury, Massino hurled the glass to the ground. It shattered into a thousand pieces, just like the life he had once known.

"Thinking about the past won't change the future, Mr. Massino," Coppola said, his voice calm yet firm. "Valentina did what any man in his position would have done, and now he's paying the price for his sins. Once, they laughed at you. Now, they fear you. Meanwhile, Valentina is mocked openly, ridiculed to his face. So tell me—who is truly more fortunate?"

Coppola bent down, gathering the shards of broken glass before tossing them into the bin.

"It's easy to talk when you've never endured real suffering," Massino muttered, his gaze dark with resentment. "The scars may have faded, but the pain lingers. Yes, Valentina is old, sick, and bedridden now, but he spent his youth in luxury. And what about me? I spent mine fighting for every grain of food.

"Now, I have all the wealth in the world, but what use is it? I'm too old to indulge in fine dining, too tired to care about expensive clothes. All I have to show for my struggles is this aging, wrinkled face. And the worst part? Even now, he smiles, while I seethe. His daughter will marry my son, living the lavish life I was denied, while I spend the rest of my days choking on frustration.

"And what's more humiliating? I have to go and beg for approval from some bastard sitting miles away, while Valentina—who never once sought my forgiveness—spends his final days like a king. I am being crushed between an egotistical madman and allies who look at me with nothing but disdain."

Coppola exhaled slowly. "What do you want, Frederick?"

Massino's voice dropped to a whisper, but it was laced with fury. "Peace."

Coppola frowned. "Peace?"

"I want justice. I want respect. I want—" He clenched his fists. "—just a shred of sympathy. I may not be a man who laments, but that doesn't mean I don't feel abandoned. I want to live out my days as a king, not as some puppet dancing on VPS's strings."

Coppola studied him for a moment before offering, "I can speak with him about it."

Massino scoffed, his frustration boiling over. "And that is the fucking problem! Everything—everything—has to be approved by VPS. Even my own son's marriage. I'm tired, Wilfred. Tired of letting a stranger control my life."

His words burned with the weight of a lifetime of resentment, filling the room with a suffocating tension.

"Fine. I won't bring it up with him again. But there are still matters that need to be handled, no matter how 'nonsense' they may seem to you," Mr. Coppola said with a knowing grin.

"What matters?" Massino asked, his tone edged with impatience.

"Sonny is out of Italy, and Annabelle is completely alone. While both families have agreed to their marriage, rumors are beginning to spread. Some are even saying Sonny fled to India to escape the wedding. If these whispers gain traction and reach the wrong ears, our entire plan could fall apart."

Massino narrowed his eyes. "What wrong ears?"

"There's talk that Annabelle's uncles, Giuseppe and Simone, have been seen meeting with Rico and Farooque. If there's even a grain of truth to it, Annabelle risks becoming nothing more than a bargaining chip. VPS won't stand by and let such a powerful family fall into their hands. My suggestion is simple—we bring Annabelle here until Sonny returns."

Massino scoffed. "Are you out of your mind? You expect me to bring an unmarried woman, and worse, an enemy's daughter, into my home? I'd be the biggest fool in Italy!"

Coppola took a slow sip of whiskey before replying, his voice calm yet firm. "I see it differently. Annabelle is a sweet girl, and beyond that, she brings wealth and influence with her. This is an opportunity we shouldn't ignore."

Massino exhaled sharply, his mind racing. He grabbed his glass and slammed it onto the table. "I need time to process this," he muttered before storming out of the room.

Chicago, Illinois

Vikram and Joseph sat in Joseph's cabin. Two men entered the room and took seats beside Vikram, but he was too engrossed in his newspaper to acknowledge their arrival.

Joseph cleared his throat. "They're here."

Vikram lowered the newspaper and glanced at the two men before shaking their hands.

Joseph leaned forward. "So, should we proceed with the plan?"

"Not yet. There's still time," Vikram replied. "I need to speak with Toufique and Sonny first. Everything depends on their ability to send young men here."

Thomas, one of the men, frowned. "We already have enough good men here, sir. Why wait for those Indian dogs?"

Vikram smiled, his voice calm but firm. "Careful, Thomas. You're speaking to an Indian as well." He paused before continuing. "The men I want to bring in are raw and hungry—eager to do anything for money and recognition. I don't question the abilities of the people here, but having local recruits adds diversity to the business."

Oleg, the other man, smirked. "You just like having some ethnic faces around you."

Joseph's expression darkened. "Watch your tongue."

Vikram raised a hand, dismissing the tension. "It's fine. Let them speak. They're not entirely wrong. Surrounding oneself with familiar faces can instill confidence and reinforce one's image. Betrayals are always a risk, but my goal here goes beyond mere appearances. By bringing these men in, I send a message—to the corrupt, self-serving politicians who publicly denounce me while secretly aiding my enemies. Soon, they will understand that there is only one lord of the Underworld."

A slow smile spread across his face. "VPS."

Joseph turned to Thomas and Oleg. "You may go. We'll summon you when needed."

Without another word, the two men stood and exited the room.

Vikram took a sip of his coffee. "Where is your brother?"

"Derrick? He's in Italy right now. Last I heard, he was in Venice, learning new things."

"What kind of things?"

"I'm not sure. He never says anything clearly. He's always vague about what he's up to."

Vikram set his cup down. "I had some work for him. Next time you speak to him, tell him I want to talk."

"What kind of work?"

"Nothing much. I just need someone by my side. Sonny is getting married, Toufique has his own troubles, Shinzo and Anbu are busy with their lives, and you're more useful here than with me. I need a companion—someone sly and courageous."

"What about Giovanni and Nafisa?"

"Nafisa betrayed me. Foolish woman! She'll soon realize the mistake she made. As for Giovanni… he's slow and dim-witted. Good for cooking, answering phone calls, and greeting guests, but not for anything… scandalous."

Joseph hesitated. "My brother isn't much different from Giovanni. Not in terms of strength, but mentally—he's just as slow. He gets manipulated too easily and ends up in trouble. He loves traveling, exploring new places, but his gullible nature worries me. He never gives straight answers and gets irritated when I ask necessary questions. If he weren't such a handful, I'd be more than happy to let him work with you."

Vikram chuckled. "We've all been through that stage in life."

"Maybe, but Derrick needs to take his identity more seriously. He's the brother of the most powerful criminal in the U.S."

"My teacher used to say that everything in nature takes its own time to grow and flourish. If we try to force it, we end up destroying its essence."

Joseph smirked. "Wish I had gone to school. I could've given a response just as poetic."

"We always look for wisdom in others, but true knowledge comes from within. Life is the greatest teacher." Vikram rose, walking toward the door. "I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow morning. It's time Massino and I had a conversation."

With that, he slammed the door behind him.....