The next morning, at dawn.
A pale glow spread across the horizon as the golden sun leaped over the sea, awakening the sleeping island of Sicily.
Luke opened his eyes and climbed out of the large bed in the guest bedroom.
He drew aside the drifting curtains and took a deep breath of the morning air.
Like a plant undergoing photosynthesis, he felt the warm light seep into his cells bit by bit, slowly reshaping his body.
"Another day full of energy."
Luke stretched his limbs and walked into the bathroom.
By the time he finished washing up, a lavish breakfast had already been laid out on the table.
I wonder whether Cosa has finished his assignment.
Luke twirled seafood pasta around his fork as he ate.
On this beautiful island, which was nearly cut off from the rest of the world, the administrative officials were divided into governors, district chiefs, and, at the lowest level, peace officers.
By getting rid of the peace officer in the Town of Taormina, the Mafia could operate more conveniently during the gap before a successor was chosen.
I wonder what Rogers is doing right now. Is he still performing on stage?
After a while, Luke heard movement coming from the master bedroom.
Marlena, who had rarely enjoyed a peaceful night's sleep, cautiously opened the door.
She saw Luke sitting by the dining table, quickly and efficiently eating his meal.
Like a startled deer, she immediately pulled back the head she had poked out.
"You're awake? I had someone prepare a change of clothes for you. Come eat something."
Luke smiled and said softly, "Marlena, if you're living under the same roof as me, we're bound to run into each other. What's the point of hiding from me?"
After hearing that, Marlena silently emerged in her silk nightgown.
She bent down, picked up the brand-new clothes on the sofa, and returned to her room.
More than ten minutes later, the master bedroom door opened. Dressed in casual clothes, Marlena sat at the dining table with some restraint.
"The pasta has gone cold. There are only sandwiches and juice left."
Luke looked her over. As expected, the clothes fit perfectly.
He was probably the first person to use Super Vision to guess a woman's measurements.
"I already told Cosa that he can let you go in a few days—don't misunderstand, Marlena. I came to Sicily to take care of something, and I won't be staying long. I'll probably leave tomorrow or the day after. For the sake of secrecy, I'll have to trouble you to stay here for two days."
Luke's courteous manner eased Marlena's tightly wound nerves slightly.
Just as Alessandro had said, she had no job and no source of income. With food rationing during wartime, she had become a sweet cake coveted by the men of Sicily, and everyone wanted a taste.
If she had not met Luke, Marlena would one day have had to abandon her inner resolve and, filled with despair and numbness, walk toward ruin.
"Thank you, Mr. Corleone!"
Thinking of this, Marlena could not help feeling grateful toward the young man sitting across from her.
She took small bites of her sandwich while watching Luke read the newspaper.
Neat black hair, sharply defined features, and slightly piercing eyes...
In Sicily, he would surely charm plenty of beautiful, passionate girls!
"Marlena, I need to go out. If you need anything, contact the hotel staff. They'll prepare it for you."
Luke put down the newspaper and glanced at the time.
It's about time I met Alessandro and the twenty gunmen he recruited.
"O-okay, Mr. Corleone."
Marlena leaned against the doorway and watched Luke's departing back, feeling inexplicably reassured.
She had originally prepared herself to become someone's plaything, but a sliver of hope now seemed to have appeared in her life, which had been shrouded in gloom.
With complicated feelings, Marlena returned to the dining table. By chance, she noticed the open newspaper and the bold, eye-catching headline written across it—
Shocking! Peace Officer Drives Off a Cliff—the Truth Behind It Is Actually This!
"The peace officer is dead?"
Marlena stared blankly, not knowing what to say.
The heaviest stone weighing on her had simply vanished?
Wait...
It was Mr. Corleone!
Marlena remembered how Lord Alessandro, who ran rampant across Sicily and whom no one dared provoke, had bowed and scraped before that young man, carefully seeking to please him.
"Was it really him?"
After her emotions rose and fell so violently, Marlena looked at the clear blue sky and white clouds outside the window. Her heart was like a storm-tossed sea, no longer able to calm down.
Luke left the hotel, completely unaware that Marlena, still in the room, had begun winning herself over nonstop.
With the Howling Commandos, he first left town and made several rounds along the coastline.
Only after getting a clear picture of the guard posts and defensive strength of the military camps stationed nearby did he return to the Copper Bell Tavern.
In the rear courtyard stood dozens of strong young men.
"These are the finest fighters in the family! Every one of them is a crack shot, and every one is willing to die for the family!"
Alessandro did not take the initiative to mention the peace officer's "accident." It was nothing more than a trivial matter.
The Mafia had always been skilled at this kind of work.
That peace officer, who looked like a fat pig, visited his mistress's home once every week.
Alessandro had merely ordered someone to secretly tamper with his car, making it look like brake failure and a skidding vehicle had sent both man and car over a cliff.
There were no surveillance cameras in this era anyway. It was simply impossible to find any clues or identify the culprit.
"Are they the Camorra Family's 'legion,' or your 'legion'?"
Luke asked calmly.
"Of course they're mine! But now, they're yours, Mr. Corleone!"
Alessandro seemed to have prepared his answer long ago. He raised his voice and shouted, "This is Vito Corleone! His forefathers were Sicilian. Because of the cruel persecution of that dictator and butcher Mussolini, they had no choice but to leave their homeland and wander from place to place!"
"And now, Mr. Corleone has achieved success! He has returned to his homeland with bread and red wine, guns and bullets!"
"From today onward! We are no longer members of the Camorra Family! There is only one person to whom we are loyal, and that is Mr. Corleone!"
Luke quietly enjoyed Alessandro's performance, watching him claim without changing expression that he was Sicilian while doing his utmost to exaggerate the helplessness and fury of being persecuted and driven from his homeland.
All he could say was that the Oscars of later generations owed this Mafia boss an Oscar!
"Sure enough, acting and lying are skills that anyone in a position of power must master."
Luke sighed.
Although Alessandro acted like a flattering jester and a groveling lapdog before him,
that was only because Luke stood behind the Allied Nations, coupled with the repeated invisible warnings that had forced this Mafia boss to lower his head and bend his back.
Luke would not truly look down on Alessandro because of that. Even the most docile hungry wolf could still eat people.
The moment he let down his guard, he might get bitten when he least expected it.
"You are standing here today not to pledge loyalty to me. To you, the name Vito Corleone is nothing more than that of a stranger..."
Luke's gaze swept over the people standing in the rear courtyard. Some were gunmen recruited by Alessandro, while others were Mafia enforcers.
These young men, who had never met him before, probably had no loyalty to him at all.
But they obeyed the family's leader. They obeyed power and status.
This was a Mafia tradition that had endured for centuries: loyalty to the family, never betrayal.
Of course, the Mafia that had taken root in North America had nearly forgotten these outdated customs and rules.
But in Sicily, this system was still quite effective.
When Mussolini purged the Mafia, he had arrested thousands of suspects and subjected them to torture.
Whippings, ripped-out fingernails, even electric torture—every kind of brutal punishment was used, yet few dared betray their families.
What was more, in order to resist the Fascists and Mussolini,
the Mafia had formed assassination squads according to different gangs and families, with core members serving as killers.
They called themselves the "Glorious Society," and their targets were Fascist officials and police officers.
The Strategic Scientific Reserve had chosen the Mafia as informants precisely because these violent men did not fear Mussolini's government and were easy to exploit and buy off.
P.S. Another day full of energy. The author has delivered another steaming-hot update—how about the usual triple support?
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