Possessed by the Mafia Don

ARIA MORETTI

Aria took one last sip of the coffee before setting the empty cup back on the table.

She then readjusted the study light to focus on the table where different photos of the same scene lay. It was the same loosely clad man sprawled across the floor with a pool of dried blood on the ground around his head. She shuffled the images and grimaced at each one that came to view before starting to type out the words that would be published by her small online newspaper for the readers who wanted more on the case the next morning.

The lawyer, Milano Cargioli, had been found dead in the most bizarre of circumstances. No sign of breakage into his house, no signs of a struggle, and no signs of even movement through the house. All that was there was a single bullet in his head, and there was no proof that it was a suicide.

For Aria, it was a matter of passion. She felt sad for Cargioli's family, but still wanted a path for herself in the News Industry, a path to fame and being widely known by all the faces around. In a few years, he would be forgotten, and all that would be there to remind anyone of him would be a tombstone covered in dust. Yet, if she could build her career...

She was still typing at her keyboard when a distant noise drew her attention. It was nothing close, and even seemed to be on the other side of the city. Yet, it caused her to jump up to her feet and rushed to check on the one man in the world who mattered to her more than anything else.

"Father," she muttered to herself, dashing through the small, dark space that was her house. Soon she was in his room, and darted to press her hands against her father's ears.

"Don't worry. I can already hear it." He said in the darkness, his voice calm.

She froze right behind him, staring at his head full of grey hair as he sat with his back to her and wondering what was happening on the inside of that beloved skull.

"Check and tell me what the cause of the noise is." He instructed.

She stood still, confused on what to do before walking to the window. The streets were dark except for the tiny glows that were passing cars and a few streetlights and signboards, until her eyes went higher up and closer to the horizon. There, she saw it.

It was a building quite shorter than the ones that surrounded it, but this time something drew all attention to it.

It was on fire.

A number of firetrucks were already working on it and spraying jets of water that ate at the mighty, hot, yellow glow that was the fire. It would be out of operations for a number of months, and no one would be able to work there. That was