Metanoia

I exhaled noisily and took a few steps back, walking back to the warm room and closing the balcony door tightly. I knew where Jensen was going. I needed to get ready.

I didn’t tell my brother about Weber’s return. Thomas did. My deputy was able to structure all the hunches into a coherent sense and relay them to Jensen, from Liam’s first appearance in London to the attempts to burn down the casino and shoot up the castle.

The Aston Martin’s wipers were quickly wiping away the raindrops hitting the windscreen as I overtook the old VW once again. I had to try to make nimble movements and manoeuvre the car, as the narrow streets of the small town made it difficult for me to feel at ease behind the wheel. Finally, I drove out of Amalfi, where the risk of an accident was lower, and accelerated towards the old house my father had bought before I was born, the Wollstonecraft mansion where he had died.

Opening the door of the sport car, I pulled my black umbrella outside, opening it and slamming the door loudly. Stepping over puddles, I took a few steps towards the main door of the mansion, raising my eyes upwards. It was a long, two-story building with high ceilings and narrow, old-fashioned windows, reminiscent of Jane Austen’s books. The mansion, which had stood there for more than two centuries, was the work of Italy’s finest architects, as my father had often said – though he had been able to return to his homeland, he had never felt at home here again. Stepping quickly with thick-heeled shoes on the small stones that lined the long driveway to the house, I tried to keep my balance, occasionally glancing at the dry trees and overgrown shrubs on the sides. As a child I’d spent a lot of time here, running around the garden, hiding among the flowers, but as I got older I stayed in London more and more, studying at the public school my father had chosen, and when I went to university in Naples I forgot all about the family mansion. And then my father was diagnosed with lung cancer.

He died in his study, sitting at his wooden desk, clutching with his fingers the lit cigar he loved so much. That picture still stands before my eyes – his calm face, so peaceful, as if asleep, and the thick smoke rising up towards the ceiling. I could not enter that house for a long time. Biting my lip, I quickly smoothed my light-coloured trousers and headed inside, quickly running up the long stairs. The butlers have not worked here for a long time, of the total number of employees, only the necessary security and a couple of maids remained, because Inessa was too pampered to cook and clean herself. My heels tapped on the marble floor, and I exhaled quietly – it was deathly silent, and even though Jensen and Lynette and the staff were in the building, it seemed as if no life had ever knocked on the doors of the empty mansion in so many years. Everything was in place: the leather sofas, the bookshelves, the tables, but the greyness of the sky through the windows only killed the walls of the house. It seemed as if nothing had been the same since his father had left. In the corridor, on the stairs I slowly climbed to the first floor, there were family portraits, from my great-grandfather to childhood pictures of me and Jensen. The stern gaze of my father’s dark, slightly squinted and tired eyes sent shivers through my heart, even from afar, even from the colours on the canvas. I sucked in air with my mouth, trying to force the tears out of my eyes-life without him was more complicated than I’d ever imagined.

Jensen was in the guest bedroom, since my brother had long outgrown the nursery he’d lived in a dozen years earlier. Opening the wooden door, I entered the office, immediately noticing my brother’s blonde head.

“Alana,” the man with a big smile rushed to me in his arms, squeezing my shoulders tightly. I could not see the bandages through his shirt, which means that they had already been taken off and my brother could move around without much pain.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered softly in his ear, gently stroking his back.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Jensen pulls away from me, still smiling but keeping his hand on my back. Blinded by anger and fear, I’d actually forgotten that when my brother was sick, there was nothing I could do but suppress the strong urge to shout at everyone around me (which manifested itself as barbed and rude responses).

I slowly walked over to the leather sofa and sat down on it, covering my eyes.

“Did Antonio tell you something?” I asked.

“Nothing new,” Jensen shook his head dismissively as he sits down next to me, “do you think Boyd and Liam are accomplices?”

“More than likely,” I replied dryly, rubbing my temples with my fingers, “Vincent owns a private military company,” I pondered aloud, “one way or another they had a partnership, and if Boyd is from England, he probably knew who he was sending his mercenaries to kill,” I opened my eyes and looked at my brother, “one way or another he’s connected to Weber, otherwise why would he hide in Asia?” I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“It’s not like they killed me,” Jensen tried to laugh, slapping his hands on his thighs loudly, but not getting a reciprocal reaction, he hastened to add, “it’s not like they had the intent to shoot me on sight, or kidnap me, or torture me, “he began to list the possible scenarios in a loud voice, not forgetting to add sarcasm to his tone, which made me stop listening to his words for a moment, “they can’t even be called mercenaries, they just scratched me,” the man finally exhaled.

Retracting my cheeks and crossing my arms over my chest, I turned towards my brother, “Boyd’s men took out everyone in the house, including the servants,” I reminded him, frowning, “what would have happened if I hadn’t hired extra security?”

“They would have stopped anyway when they saw my injury. You’re just exaggerating,” Jensen exasperated as if I was contradicting a law of nature by proving absolute nonsense, “I thought your vendetta was over,” said my brother, without looking up at me. He was too inept to change the subject, though I was grateful for it, for I could already feel the growing storm of anger in my stomach.

“I hoped for it too,” I exhaled tensely, thinking of Weber, “I drove him out of this country once, and I will do it now.”

“A ticket to the afterworld is guaranteed to him,” the man chuckled, to which I smiled.

“It’s not hard to guess that Weber was behind the burning of the restaurant, but the lab was able to find traces of someone who actually got into the building and made his plan a reality,” I said firmly, crossing my legs, “it was a woman,” I turned towards my brother, who was finding the company of birds in the tree outside the window more interesting, which made me put my palm over his head, giving him a shove, “are you listening to me?”

Jensen grumbled unhappily, putting a hand to the sore spot. Let him be glad I didn’t hit him on the shoulder with a stitched wound.

“I’ve beefed up security at the restaurant and provided you with the information security reports in the mail, so do some research on the last hacking attempt as a matter of urgency – it might have been one of Weber’s or Boyd’s men,” I stood up from the couch, heading slowly for the door. Resting my arms at my sides, I turned towards my brother, who was eager to see me off, “I also spoke to my father’s deputy, he’s going to take over running The Empire temporarily while we deal with Liam. What else?” frowning, I shifted my gaze to the ravens outside the window, trying to remember the next instructions, “Talk to Dante,” I exhaled, “I found someone to take over your bar in our absence, so tell him my thanks and let him know we no longer need his services,” pursing my lips I smiled demurely and turned away to open the door.