Nina didn’t know how to react as she stared at the scenario brewing in front of her. Tom was quiet.
“So you knew he wasn’t Tom’s son and you let the family pay you ten thousand dollars a month to take care of Tom junior?” Catherine asked. “It’s not even about the money, Donna. It’s the deception. Please tell me you’re lying,”
Donna said nothing. “TJ isn’t my grandson?” Catherine said to reconfirm again.
Donna shook her head. “Then who’s TJ’s real father?” Nina asked.
“That’s the problem. I don’t know. I was at a party. I had sex with this college guy. I don’t know his name. I don’t even remember what he looks like. He was a college freshman, that’s all I know. Two days later, I was at Tom’s party. Tom and I had sex. Two weeks later, I realized I was pregnant, but I didn’t know who the father was,” Donna confessed. Nina’s heart sank. Catherine was distraught. Tom didn’t flinch. His face had no expression.
“So you decided to pin the pregnancy on Tom?” Catherine asked. “I hoped it was Tom’s child. I was young and in love with the idea of Tom. I was too naïve to think that the other college guy could be the father of my child,” Donna replied.
Catherine glanced at Tom then at Nina then shifted her gaze towards Donna. “I mean, I could have told everyone. I couldn’t dare destroy what you all perceived to be the only link to Tom—Tom junior. After Tom’s death, your entire family embraced TJ. I felt important. TJ felt important. He felt loved. He felt like he had a father whose family would do anything to protect him. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take that away from him. I- I have lived with the guilt. That’s why I was reluctant to come tonight. Not because I was scared to tell Tom that TJ wasn’t his son, but because I was scared to tell TJ that the family he grew up to know, isn’t truly his family,” Donna said. Catherine became dizzy. She was upset, perplexed and sympathetic at the same time. She walked out of the room without replying. Part of her understood why Donna had lied about her supposed grandson and the other part wanted to yell at Donna for the years of deceit, but it wasn’t in her place to do so.
“How did you figure it out?” Donna asked. Tom didn’t plan on a way to answer that question. Was he to tell them that his eyes could see the smallest molecular structures in a human being? Was he to tell them that he could smell the difference between both their genetic scents?
Now, it seemed that Nina had the same question on her mind.
He managed to compose himself. “It doesn’t matter.” “All that matters now is that the truth is out,” She knew he was lying. “I’ll give you guys some time to yourselves,” Nina said as she walked out.
They were alone, the room was silent and the air was still. Donna felt like she could choke on Tom’s magnificence. He hadn’t aged much. However, his superior masculinity glimmered. His aura exuded power and his face – his face was gently and tough at the same time. “I’m sorry,” she finally said.
Tom smiled in response. He had scanned through her thoughts. She wasn’t lying. He knew she had gone through a lot of guilt. “It’s okay. I know it was a tough decision to make,” Tom replied. His response amazed her. The old Tom would have been angry. The old Tom would have refused to acknowledge her presence. She didn’t know why, but Tom seemed different. He seemed more mature. There was one question that still remained on her mind; how did he figure it out?
Catherine briskly walked upstairs, to the bathroom. She was too upset to remain at the party. She locked the door behind her. All she needed was a splash of water on her face. Her entire life was abnormal. Truths seemed to delude her. She felt like a false façade of complications. Finding out her grandson wasn’t her actual grandson felt just as bad as when she found out Tom wasn’t dead, the first and the second time.
She made up her mind that she wasn’t going to let it bother her. Her only son was back and that’s all she cared about. In the past month, in Miami, she had spent more time with Tom than she ever had. She was thankful to Nina for that. She splashed more water on her face. She cringed at the necessity of Tom’s memory. Part of her preferred he didn’t remember. She found it thrilling that Tom could have a fresh image of and with her. Which son will want to remember how his mother killed his step father? Which son will want to remember the violence he grew up in? Which son will want to remember the assassination attempt made on his father from his mother’s side of the family?
To her, it was better he didn’t remember.
Johnny, Walter’s personal bodyguard briskly walked down the stairs to the basement. He hadn’t heard from any of the other guards downstairs and he was sure they were busy playing cards.
“You lazy sons of bitches, you know we have a job to protect the family, right?” he said as he walked down the stairs. There was no response. He looked around. There was no one. He glanced at the poker table. There was no one. He then walked into the security monitoring room: four dead bodies with bullets in the middle of their heads. The kill was neat and precisely done.
He was immediately terrified. He grabbed his radio. “We have a breach! We have a breach. Remain calm! Don’t startle the guest. Team one, come down for weapons. Protect the brothers at all cost,” he said as he walked to the closet full of ammunitions— the same one Jackson replaced with C4 cartridges.
Walter wondered where his wife, Catherine, was. She seemed upset the last time he saw her. “Excuse me,” he said to his business colleagues who seemed overly preoccupied with their conversation to care whether he left or not. His brothers were at one side of the room talking about redundant strategies. He made his way through the crowd of people who seemed to have forgotten the main reason why they were in the party – the celebration of Tom’s return.
He ran up the stairs. His guard followed. He then walked into his large master bedroom. His guard stood outside. The lights were dim and the room smelled like it was freshly vacuumed. The soft plush carpets made his walking steps soundless.
“Darling!” he called out. He could hear water from the sink’s tap. “Yes,” Catherine responded after seconds.
“Are you okay?” She could now hear his voice by the door. “Open up,” he added as he tapped the knob to the bathroom.
She sighed. “I’m okay, Walt!” she replied, reluctant to open the door. “You don’t sound okay. C’mon, open up,”
He heard a click then opened the door. He saw his wife. She sat down at the edge of the Jacuzzi style bathtub with her face buried in her hands.
“What’s going on?” He said. “Tom Junior isn’t Tom’s son. He’s not our grandson. He just found out. Donna confessed. That’s why Tom was so upset,” she blurted out.
Walter stood for about forty five seconds, trying to process the content of her words. He sighed then hugged her. “Well, they’re just kids. It’s nothing to be upset about. Don’t let it ruin the party. Our son is back and that’s all that matters,” he replied. His reaction didn’t surprise her. Walter was too happy to care. He was the only one who didn’t care about Tom’s whereabouts. Tom was back and that was all he cared about.
Nina stood patiently, outside the private study, waiting for Tom and Donna to finish their conversation. The news mesmerized her. She took a sip of her wine. The Olivettis never compromised on luxury when it came to their wines. She watched the clueless guests, who came to celebrate Tom’s arrival, laugh among themselves. She tried to avoid the flirtatious stares powerful men of New York gave her.
The Olivetti guards were restless. She watched them talk through their communication devices with worry in the eyes. She shrugged off the idea of an assassination attempt. The home was too protected. Too many distinguished millionaires, billionaires, State Representatives and Senators, were present.
Just then, she felt a gentle touch on her waist. She turned. It was Tom. “Let’s go somewhere private,” he said with a smile. He was fast and quiet. She didn’t see or hear him leave the room, even though she was standing close to it. She didn’t argue or ask why. She followed him to a room.
His walking steps were too calculated to be human and once again, it felt like his feet barely touched the floor. “Donna?” she whispered as they entered an empty room.
“She’s fine,” he replied briefly.
“You?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said as he closed the door behind them. The room was quieter than the other.
“I finally have you to myself,” he said. She felt a feeling she had never felt before—that of ease and a sense of security. She said nothing.
He smiled as he leaned on a table by the corner. “Hmm…” he said as he watched her sway from one part of the room to the other. “Why are you smiling?” she asked as she moved to the other end of the room. She was suddenly conscious of her body.
“Thank you!” Tom replied.
“For what?”
“For being you,” Tom replied.
She didn’t know if it was a compliment or a generalized statement. Tom was too good to be true. His words were precise and straight to the point. Tom gazed at her beautiful dress and the way it cuddled her body. It was safe to say that the dress would only be a dress if she wasn’t wearing it. She made it look beautiful. She managed to hide a blush. The way he stared at her reminded her of the way she stared at the original version of the Mona Lisa.
“For being me? I have never heard that before,” she replied. Tom laughed. With her he was someone else. He didn’t have to worry about seeing the future. All he cared about was being with her in the moment. Her presence made all the voices around him silent.
“You took care of TJ because you thought he was my son. A lot of girls wouldn’t do that,” Tom replied.
“Well, I’m not a girl, I’m a woman,” she replied with her arms folded like a disappointed two year old. It was cute.
“I agree,” he responded. They were quiet for a while.
“So what happens to TJ?” she asked as she moved closer to him. The energy in the air intensified.
“Nothing. Donna and I have agreed that TJ will no longer be TJ. Of course, he can keep his first name since that’s the name he is used to. However, the last name will be changed from Olivetti to his step father’s last name,” Tom replied. Nina smiled in response.
“You’re not going to say anything?” he asked. “No – it’s your decision to make, not mine,”
“I’ve learned my lesson,” Tom replied. “It’s hard to trust people these days,” he added as he planted a kiss on her cheeks. She shivered. She remembered his favorite quote. “Yea! Trust everybody, but don’t just trust anybody,” she said as their lips touched.
Suddenly, it happened. His memories came back as the words ‘trust everybody but don’t just trust anybody’ began to echo in his mind. He felt like he was falling into a bottomless pit of memories. He could remember everything from conception to the current moment.
He pulled away from Nina, panting furiously. She gazed at him in astonishment. His breathing became more stressed. His head was spinning. His pupils were dilated. He was sweating. “Tom! Tom! Are you okay?” she asked, scared. “What did I do?” she thought as she desperately tried to help him.
He wasn’t saying anything. He fell on his knees like he had lost his legs. Everything came rushing into his memory like a tornado. His head swirled. He remembered his first accident as a little boy, he remembered breaking his tooth, he remembered when he broke his arm, he remembered his childhood friends and he remembered his life when he was called Pablo. He remembered the assassination attempt on his father, the drug deal with the Decatur mob in Illinois and how his grandmother, Cecilia Olivetti, helped him cover up the drug deal. He remembered how Billy de Sanchez died. He remembered accidentally killing Ricky Raymond. He remembered how he found out about biological mother. He remembered the mother he grew up to know, Beatrice – he remembered Donna and the night they spent together – He remembered his uncle, Stanley Olivetti’s death - He remembered the attack at the cemetery, the road chase, the shootouts - he remembered how Nina was kidnapped – He remembered the feeling he felt when he found out she was okay – he remembered his grandmother’s death – he remembered his grandfather, Don Cruccifixo’s Death – he remembered when he was rushed to the airplane by Dean, his bodyguard – He finally remembered the plane crash and all the details of it.
He passed out.
Six guards rushed towards the kitchen then down to the basement without trying to alarm the guests. “Shit,” one of them said as he saw the pile of dead bodies in the security control room. “Take some guns and take the brothers to a private room. Stay with them! Make sure they are safe. I’ll go through the security tapes quickly to find out who did this. The person might still be in the building,” Johnny said to the guards. The guards grabbed some weapons and stuffed it in their suit, then ran up the stairs.
Johnny searched the last forty five minutes of the security tapes. No one was in the basement except a server. It couldn’t have been…He zoomed in—an unfamiliar face emerged. He traced the server’s suspicious movements. The server seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the building. What kind of assassin kills the guards then walks out of the building without killing the main targets? What was he running from?
He could hear ticks. It sounded like a clock. He stood up from the chair then traced the sound to the closet full of ammunitions. There was a timer connected to an electric device connected to a gun cartridge. He wondered what it was. He examined the gun cartridge then saw the C4.
Shit!!!!!
“What the hell is going on?” Don Daniel Olivetti asked as the guards escorted all the brothers into a room, calmly.
“Sir! There’s a threat in the building. We don’t want to alarm the guests,” a guard whispered. Jonathan, Georgie, Brandon and Don Daniel Olivetti walked into the room. They tried to remain calm. Seven guards, with guns taken from the basement, walked into the room to protect them. They stylishly surrounded the brothers without raising any suspicion to the guests. There was white noise from the radios. The guards couldn’t hear anything. Fear gripped them. They stood their ground, watching everything and anything that seemed suspicious. Their eyes were fixated on the windows and the door.
“Where’s Walter?” Don Olivetti asked.
“He’s safe sir. He’s upstairs with his wife. There are guards surrounding the stairs and the front of his room,”
Don Olivetti nodded. He dialed his number for the only brother who had excused himself from the party earlier on, Sebastian Olivetti. The phone rang. “Hello,” the voice on the phone said. “Make sure you stay protected. There’s a threat at the party. I’ll let you know if anything happens,” Don Olivetti said to his brother then hung up.
Tom woke up. Eyes wide. He had only passed out for less than a minute. Nina was beside him, confused by what had happened. “Tom! Are you okay?” she asked, touching his face. His eyes were wider than a bore hole.
“I remember. Now, I see,” He said like he had just seen a ghost. His mind was still rambled with memories like a scratched and recurring tape. He stood up.
“You remember?” she asked. Tom nodded, still absent minded.
“Everything?” She added. This time, he didn’t respond. Something else was distracting him. Events occurring outside the room wall. Events in the basement. An explosion? Has it happened or was it about to happen? He could see the future more clearly due to his memory recovery.
Julianna barged into the room. She had slight fear in her eyes. “It’s too late to save them. Save her!”
Nina didn’t know why, but Tom’s eyes were even wider now. She was confused. Everything was happening fast. He jumped on Nina, shoving her to the ground. He protected her from the impact by turning towards his back.
A loud explosion, at first, then two loud explosions!
In a car, ten yards away from the Olivetti mansion, Jackson, the assassin disguised as a server, smiled. He could see everything going on in the building from his laptop. He closed his laptop quickly, started his engine then dro
ve off. His job was done. The Olivettis were dead.
24
July 1988-July 1990
Frederick Olivetti gazedoutside his office window. His life was successful. He managed to keep a balance between his obligations as a member of the illuminati and his obligations as a mob boss. He had struggled to maintain order through the cold war. The interactions between the Russian mafia and KGB were simultaneously influential on the illuminati’s agenda. He controlled New York and all major families while staying away from the spotlight. He was commonly called the Don of Dons. The mob boss of mob bosses.
Chris Gambino was his front man. He carried out his orders with precision and was the middle man between himself and the other major families. People rarely saw him. On the street, he was a ghost and a story people told their little children to scare them. His name alone erupted fear in the hearts of many.
He was a myth to those who had not seen him and the last glimpse of terror to those who did. His grasp on all law enforcement agencies was outstanding. His grasp on what the media portrayed was exquisite. New York and the rest of America only saw what he wanted them to see.
Jack Ruby was dead. The Vietnam War was over. The Cold War was beginning to fade away completely. He hadn’t spoken to any member of the illuminati in five years. The only communication he got were the subliminal messages passed through music, movies and newspapers—codes that could only be seen or heard by members of the superior species. It was an efficient way of communicating with other members in the world without using mails and telephone services that could be intercepted by humans.
Frederick had been waiting for something. An assignment from the Order. America was his domain. He was responsible for every political shift and every war. He was responsible for the delivery of social change. The mission of his organization was to achieve a one world order—an ideology that could only happen if there was a major war. Hence, the illuminati’s World War III agenda was put into place to create a world that’s not separated by ethnicity, race, religion, education, language or gender. A unified world. The main goal was to eventually draw the attention of other superior beings in the galaxy. Beings they didn’t know about. Beings that are myths to people.
Olivetti: Illumination Page 20