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He stared down at the phone which trembled in his hands, Marcel’s number boldly flashing across his screen. To further feed his pride, Richardo didn’t save Marcel’s number because he felt he wasn’t worth his time.

Why should he save it? Because he’s Marcel. What was so special about Marcel anyway? Because he’s Daniel’s son? Richardo didn’t exactly care and wouldn’t be one of those who fawned over the bastard all because he was born into a position of power. Richardo knew he would perform better than Marcel If he was born into the Luciano family instead of him. It was only a matter of luck and circumstance.

Hence, jealousy and envy overwhelmed his initial fear. He loathed Marcel! Loathed his existence! Who gave him the right to be the protagonist of this story? All these thoughts went through Richardo’s mind as the call rang on. He stared down at the number, even if he was woken up from a night of sleep, he would be able to recognize it with his eyes closed.

He missed the call.

Ricardo was tempted to call back and proved that he wasn’t scared of him. Marcel must think that he has him on a leash now that he lost everything, but that wasn’t the case. A man with nothing has no fear. He has nothing to lose anymore. And that meant that he was willing to go to great threats to destroy his life.

So he was about to press the call button when his phone rang again and his finger simply hovered over the screen. It was Marcel. Richardo couldn’t help but wonder why he was so eager to speak to him. Could it be that this was a trap? What if Marcel was trying to track him down through this call?

No, he refuses to fear Marcel. What’s the worse that he could do anyway? So he answered the call.

“Marcel…” Richardo hissed. Knowing that his arch nemesis was alive, even after going all out to end his life didn’t sit well with him. Had he known that he would lose everything after all, he would have gone to that meeting and the both of them would go down together. He would have made sure of it.

.....

“What a surprise, you’re still alive. I must say that I’m quite taken by your resilience. It’s not every day that I get to see such a rare talent like you,”

Even though it was a compliment for surviving today’s incident, Richardo knew that it didn’t come from his heart and that angered him. Who gave him the right to mock him?

He didn’t interrupt and let Marcel continue. He said, “Even those without talents know not to run away from a battle but then, it must be my fault for having much expectation for a coward like you. You might have talent, but you’re trash and need to be scraped away,”

At this point, Marcel was no longer sugarcoating his words, he was out rightly mocking him. Richardo’s fist curled at his side, his knuckle turning white while he held the phone tightly to his ear.

“Yes, you’re right. I was a coward for running away,” He admitted, “But don’t you think you’re a bit childish to call and insult me.”

Richardo snorted, licking his lower lips, “To be honest, I thought you were calling to threaten and tell me how much you’d enjoy killing me?”

That was what Richardo hoped for. He expected Marcel would rain threats on him, at least that way, he would be satisfied to know that he suffered losses too. But instead, Marcel came to taunt his shortcoming and pick on him. He simply can’t be the only one suffering.

“Is that so?” Marcel said before bursting into laughter. The sound of his rich laughter was like a billion daggers digging into Richardo’s heart. Marcel shouldn’t be this happy, no, not after what happened – even his cousin was shot. He should be raging mad at him, that was the emotion Richardo wanted from him.

“But don’t you think it’s hilarious threatening a dead man on the phone? ” Marcel said, and he gulped.

He continued, “I think that’s stupid. Why should I threaten a man that would be dead in my hands soon if the Bratva doesn’t get to him first? You might escape me, but you actually don’t think that you would escape them, right? I don’t remember the Bratva being as patient or cultured as I am. ”

Hearing the name of the Russian Mafia sent a shiver down his spine and his hand holding the phone trembled. Richardo ran his hand through his hair and was grateful Marcel wasn’t here to see him full of anxiety.

“You’re right that the Bratva wouldn’t let me alone, but on the bright side, your cousin Victor is dead before me,” He sneered,” I think you should send your last words to him through me and who knows I might be able to relay the message to him when we meet in hell.”

Ricardo knew that he touched a sensitive part when Marcel didn’t respond for a while. Although it was a guess on his part, it seems to be true. Was Victor really dead? Richardo had been trying to preserve his life during the chaos, but he had seen that shot and there was no way Victor would survive that.

He began to laugh. Richardo’s laughter became so loud and hysterical that tears even escaped his eyes and they echoed across the wall. Did Victor really die? Marcel finally lost his right-hand man and cousin. Was that why he called him? To let out the burning rage in his heart by belittling him? Good thing he knows the truth now. In the end, his dream came true. He did not suffer alone.

Marcel was suffering too.