Naples didn't hand out victories without a price.
By the time Enzo turned twenty-one, he had secured a permanent job at a shipping office down near the docks. It wasn't glamorous, but it paid well and gave him access to the city's underground veins—names, routes, shipments. Men noticed his quiet discipline, the way he spoke less and listened more. Some even said, "That Marino boy? He's going somewhere."
He didn't just work. He observed. And as months passed, Enzo began seeing patterns—how money moved under the table, how products vanished from ledgers but reappeared in private warehouses. Crime wasn't a mask in Naples; it was a second economy.
And soon, it came knocking.
---
One rainy evening, after a long shift, Enzo was approached by Luca Romano—a mid-level smuggler with charm as slick as his hair.
"I hear you're good with numbers," Luca said, offering him a cigarette.
"I'm good with silence," Enzo replied.
Luca grinned. "Even better."
He offered Enzo a choice.
Option one: Stay invisible. Live a decent, thankless life. Pay rent. Age. Die quietly.
Option two: Work for him. Use his skills. Earn real money. Protect his future.
Enzo thought of his mother. He thought of the cold nights. He thought of Elena, who had stopped writing to him after her family left Monteverde. He thought of Lucia—kind, gentle, untouched by blood.
Then he looked Luca in the eyes.
"I'm in."
---
The next few years moved fast.
Enzo played the dual life with precision. By day, he was the clean-cut shipping analyst. By night, he was laundering money, organizing routes, securing bribes. His mind, sharp as a razor, made him a favorite among the Romano ranks.
He never touched drugs. Never ran flesh. Those were his rules.
But he knew how to make money disappear and reappear twice as thick.
---
Meanwhile, Lucia's father saw potential in him. "You've done well," he said. "You're not the poor Marino boy anymore. Maybe… it's time you married."
Lucia had waited patiently. Her love for Enzo had matured into quiet hope. When he proposed, she accepted without question.
But on the night before their engagement, Elena returned.
She stood at the gate of Marco's house, a suitcase in one hand and a scarf wrapped around her hair.
"Enzo," she said. "I heard you made it."
His chest tightened.
"Elena. Why are you here?"
"My father's dead. My mother too. I came to Naples because there's nothing left in Monteverde. Except… maybe you."
It was the first time in years he saw the girl under the fig tree alive in her eyes.
For the first time in years, he wavered.
---
That night, Enzo sat by the dock and stared into the black water. In one hand was Lucia's ring. In the other, Elena's scarf.
One represented safety.
The other, fire.
He chose neither that night.
But fate? Fate was already choosing for him.
---