The words of his grandfather burned themselves into Francesco's mind. They weren't profound, nor was he unaware. All his life, he knew it; the strong claimed turf and made the rules. That's why he had to run after stealing the money; why Togo could put out a hunt for him; why Logan tried to gain Kauffman and Nikolaev's favour; why mom won't come here.
Francesco lay on his bed, deep in thought, refusing the lunch and snacks the maids had brought him. His current schedule, while difficult, was too slow; he needed to know more. Faster. The boy jumped from his bed and searched the bookshelves. First, he needed to master Italian and mathematics. He picked up text and workbooks from the shelves, reviewing and practicing with a newfound fervor. The boy maintained his passion for studying even when his lessons resumed.
"You can't rush learning." His governess warned when she found he had completed a lesson exercise in advance. "If you don't have a solid foundation, you'll fail at the complex stages later."
"I need to learn as quickly as possible."
The governess did not continue to admonish him. Instead, she briefly touched on the lessons before giving him additional exercises and moving on.
As the days progressed, one by one, members of his staff left to be with their families. Soon, Francesco was left alone with half his guards and Stella for Christmas and Boxing Day.
Francesco sat up in his bed; it was almost midday on Christmas. His eyes felt hot, and his eyelids felt too heavy to stay open. Worse was the rapid fluctuation between feeling hot and cold. Stella had checked on him every half hour, giving him liquids or soup, checking his temperature, or applying rubs to ease his stuffiness and fever. It was the first time since he got here that he fell sick.
"Sir, you have a phone call from Assistant Morbidelli."
Francesco slowly turned to look at Stella, standing near the door, and gave her a slow nod. Assistant Morbidelli was the first person to call him today, yet it was hardly a personal call.
"Congratulations, Mr. Francesco. Mr. Baggio has decided you are ready to be announced as his heir at the next family gathering. Which will begin in four days at the main compound. I wish you luck."
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Francesco slipped under the covers, pulling them up to his chin. He was in too much pain to think.
"Stella... I want chocolate."
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Francesco, his governess, Carlo, Stella, and another guard arrived at the main compound just before lunch on the first day of the family gathering. There were several other vans, all the same model, parked in the big open yard. Staff moved about busily, moving luggage from the vehicles indoors.
The head butler, a middle-aged man with soft brown eyes and a gentle smile, greeted the boy and his entourage. He assigned one of the maids from his troop to assist the boy's group during their stay. Like the butler, the maid looked to be middle-aged. She smiled warmly at Francesco as she directed him to his rooms.
In the wing, occupied mostly by his grandfather's direct relatives, Francesco had been assigned a cluster of four rooms. His guards were next door, while Stella was across the hall, and his governess was opposite the guards.
"These rooms were often reserved for Ms. Aurora. Now they are yours, sir." The old maid gave him a friendly smile.
No one should have known he was Aurora's son. Did the maid know, or did she assume?
"Who's Aurora?" He asked, walking into the room.
"Your fourth sister. She has not been to a gathering in almost fifteen years." She whispered. "There's a rumour that your father disowned her to avoid a scandal."
*Sister?*
"You're dismissed," the governess said in a raised voice from the doorway, stepping aside for the maid as she scurried off.
Francesco, confined to his room for the first two days, spent his hours in conversational practice with his governess. On the third day, the boy was allowed to explore the premises. With a guard and his governess in tow, he walked through the halls and common rooms. The faces of the family members were all foreign to him, though he noted it was easy to identify members of the same branch and which branches were closely related. They all shared the same reaction upon seeing him: suspicious stares and hushed whispers.
One hundred members of the Baggio family were present at the gathering. Despite their wealth and affluence, there seemed to be friction between members or entire branches, as squabbles occurred wherever groups gathered. A broken laptop, delayed delivery, missed birthday greetings, missing pets, missing devices, gossip, delayed contracts, and perceived disrespect. They seemed to argue about anything.
Once, he happened on a hushed conversation. He did not see the men's faces, but he heard them clearly. They had been discussing the push to remove his grandfather as head of the group because his line had produced no male heirs. The men debated whether his grandfather's brother should replace him or one of the secondary branches with more males. One of the men promised to support the other if he chose to join the contest.
When the boy returned to his room, the men's conversation weighed heavily on his mind. His grandfather was desperate to keep his position. That's why he was going to make the announcement now; he needed him.
The last day of the year, everyone in the mansion had to attend the evening banquet. At the head table sat his grandparents, aunts, and their families, while Francesco and his governess sat near the back of the room.
The banquet appeared way more cohesive than the boy knew the family to be. But he did recognise the fake smiles and disguised animosity. These people who hated each other shared one thing in common: they all wanted their line to be at the top.
Following the meal, Assistant Morbidelli made a series of announcements. Two drew the largest reactions from the crowd: Ferdinand Baggio's promotion to assistant country manager of their clothing brand in China; and Caterina Baggio's engagement to Karl Lorenzo was finalised with the wedding taking place in a year.
The crowd collectively laughed at the announcement of his aunt's wedding. There were a few grumblings, but the hall was mostly filled with laughter. Some even called for her to be removed from her position.
Ferdinand's appointment, on the other hand, seemed to dig another rift among the branches, and the facade of civility shattered as people shouted across the room, hurtling insults and throwing glasses and vases. Security detained those who had left their designated tables. One man had even crawled across the floor to get to the other side to assault another who had insulted him. He kicked and screamed, demanding the guards let him go.
The room had almost descended into complete anarchy until Assistant Morbidelli spoke. He announced that further changes could be made due to the excessive reactions to the announcement. He called out the individuals detained by the guards, reminding them of their positions and the others capable of replacing them.
"Please act befitting of your age and position." He warned.
The final announcement was left for his grandfather to make. Seeing the reaction to Ferdinand's appointment, Francesco felt a tsunami of panic wash over him. Instinctively, he began chewing his nails. His governess took his hands in her own to stop him, but the boy switched to chewing at his cheek.
"All will be fine." The woman reassured.
"Many of you have been calling on me to step down," his grandfather began, "as I have no male in my line to pass the mantle to. But I have an heir, and I will not step down until he is of age. Come here, Francesco." He said stretching his hand forward.
All the blood in Francesco's body rushed to his feet. He felt cold and lightheaded. His governess was smiling and urging him to go to his grandfather.
This was it.
He needed to go up there and stand in front of all these people. Move. He needed this moment. Move! The only way he could see his mother again was to go up there. MOVE!
The boy got up stiffly from his chair, passed two other tables, and walked down the aisle, his heart thundering louder in his ears with every step. He was trying to walk as he'd learned, but his legs felt laden and his arms swung more than he intended. He couldn't look at anyone; his eyes remained fixed on his grandfather's tie.
He had been walking for more than a minute now. He was taking too long. He should have gotten to the stage already, but the aisle still stretched on before him. His head felt hot and his throat parched. They were all staring at him. He heard the grumbling whispers and the snickers, and he could feel the hatred in their stares.
The boy stood next to his grandfather, who placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "This is my heir, Francesco Baggio."
"Bullshit!" Several voices cried.
"You can't take a random child and try to pass him off as your heir, Luciano!" A man with a striking resemblance to his grandfather shouted from one of the tables at the front.
Others joined in, and soon the hall was in uproar again. Eventually, they were clamouring for his grandfather to step down.
"Quiet!" His grandfather roared. "I would not bring an outside child into our family, no matter how desperate you think I am. He is my blood."
"Then take a paternity test!" A man shouted. Francesco recognised the voice as one of the two men he had heard plotting earlier.
"I already took the DNA test with Genetek and have the results. Anyone who wishes to see them can."
"I won't believe your fabricated results."
"Take another from a non-affiliate!"
"Fine! Pick a company, and we will retake the test." His grandfather conceded.
Getting the crowd under control took a lot of work. But begrudgingly, they settled. After the announcements, the banquet shifted into a party. Francesco stayed close to his grandfather, and was greeted by some who congratulated him. They pestered the boy with questions about his mother, where he grew up, his vision for the family, his school performance, things he excelled at, and hobbies. But he just smiled at them and only answered the question of where he grew up broadly. The crowd eventually dispersed, some of them calling him an idiot or disrespectful under their breaths.
His grandmother approached them, greeting the boy warmly and welcoming him into the family, but her demeanour changed when she spoke to her husband. Her tone was cold as she gave her husband an order.
"We are going to talk now, Luciano." She turned and walked away without waiting for his acknowledgement.
The boy, now left to himself, stood alone in the hall. No one else approached him, but he heard them all discussing him. These people were worse than the rich people he had met before. Worse than Hoppenstedt and his group. A pair of hands rested on his shoulders, gently drawing him back. He looked up to see his governess's smiling face. The woman's presence was fuel to the fire as they laughed, speculating that she was his mother and a gold digger. Now they didn't want Francesco in the family, let alone leading it.
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