I went straight for the fridge, intending to ignore his presence, but he wasn’t going to allow me that one decency.

“We have a meeting tonight. There are some things you should know before we go.”

Without glancing his direction, I pulled out the milk and began to chug straight from the carton.

“You have to understand what it is to be a part of the Lucciano family. There are rules you have to follow. The most important one is Omertá—the oath you’ll take tonight.”

I had to resist flinging the milk carton against the wall. I knew my ties with Sal weren’t over, but it sounded like I was being sworn in, and I had hoped to avoid that. Fucking naïve. My stomach churned, making me regret how much milk I’d downed.

“Omertá is about silence and loyalty. There is no leeway. If you break your oath, it means certain death. You will never, ever speak to anyone about family business—you understand?”

“Do you hear yourself? How could you willingly drag me into this?” I spat at him, disgusted.

“You saw those men. I had no choice,” he bit back defensively.

“There’s always a choice, Dad. You could have stayed out of that shit from the beginning or owned up to your punishment rather than making your son take it for you.”

He stood, his face growing red. “This is your ma’s fault for insisting you go to that pussy school because it’s put ideas in your head about how cushy and perfect life could be. Maybe for the top one percent, but for the rest of us, life ain’t so pretty. It’s time you figured that out. Being a part of the Luccianos is the one shot you got at making somethin’ of yourself.”

I was a straight A student, an accomplished pianist, and a starter on the varsity basketball team, and my father thought so little of me that he assumed the mafia was my only hope. “Fuck you.” I walked away without another glance.

“Meetup is at eight tonight, you ungrateful shit.”

I managed a few hours of sleep before the meeting. It was a small miracle because I was increasingly nervous with each passing minute about what would transpire. My father drove us to a small warehouse building that appeared to be used as a distribution center. Inside, a dozen or so men had gathered and conversed casually—some sitting in folding chairs and others leaning against towering boxes.

“Marty, glad you could make it!” welcomed one of the men along with a chorus of other subdued greetings.

“Hey, fellas. This is my son, Nico.” He gestured to me with a beaming smile that made me want to break his teeth. Instead, I attempted to be polite as he ran through introductions of names and information I’d never remember. It was important to play my part. I had no other options.

Eventually, Sal showed up and quickly got our meeting underway. “We have a new man to bring into the fold tonight; a man I’d proudly call family. The Lucciano outfit is the finest, most honorable outfit in this city. I knew the moment I laid eyes on this young man months ago that he was meant to be one of us.” His eyes gleamed at the surprise that registered on my face.