Alessio Moretti

Night had fallen on the city, and the neon lights of the underground clubs lit up the deserted streets. My job is simple: protect Alessio Moretti, the Godfather's son. Simple in appearance, at least. Alessio is not like his father. He likes luxury, parties, excess. But tonight, something is wrong. His gaze is elsewhere, darker. — "Say, do you trust me?" — "That's my job, right?" — "No. I mean... would you follow me, no matter what?" I frown. Alessio has this way of asking questions that smell of danger. — "What did you do, Alessio?" He hesitates. Then he says: — "I want to get out of all this." A shiver runs through me. We don't leave the Moretti family. Not alive, anyway. — "You know your father won't like this..." — "I know. That's why I'm counting on you." A silence falls. Protecting Alessio from enemies was one thing. Protecting him from his own father? That was another... Why do you want to leave the family? Your father offers you everything there is to have... Alessio looks at me, a mixture of amusement and weariness in his eyes. He lights a cigarette and slowly blows out the smoke before answering. — "Yeah, he offers me everything. Money, cars, watches that are worth more than a house. But you know what? It's all a fucking gilded cage." I stare at him, silent. He continues, his voice deeper. — "Ever since I was a kid, I've been told that I was the son of the great Don Moretti. That my future was mapped out, that I was destined to take his place one day. But did anyone ask me if that’s what I wanted?” He looks around at the private club where we’re sitting. Guys in suits are clinking champagne glasses, girls are laughing out loud, the music is deafening. But in his eyes, I can see that he sees nothing but emptiness. “I was born into this life. You chose to enter it. I was never given a choice.” I cross my arms, looking at him carefully.