Not many have the power to affect a novel they are writing, though many wish to. I have that power, though perhaps minute in the grand tapestry of creation, a gentle tug on the threads of fate. A magician never reveals his secret, but I will confidently say that the little play of events in the former chapter may seem as fate, or the mere rebound of actions set in motion by a certain dirty secretary, one who served the late Stepmom, now long gone. Yet, for those with a keen eye, for those with a brain that seeks connections beyond the obvious, it was clear there was a mastermind behind this little push. Like pieces of dominoes, each seemingly independent event nudged the next, and with a silent, graceful inevitability, they all fell into place, not by chance, but always by design.
Now, I will continue sitting here, observing, with a keen and unblinking gaze, waiting for what darling James will do. Is he, after all, cut from the same cloth as his father, shaped by the same ruthless ambition that drives the Vance men to their cold, calculated successes? Will the weight of his legacy, and the dark secrets that underpin it, simply mold him into another, more refined version of his predecessor? Or will he, perhaps, surprise us all, carving his own path through the tangled web of family and fortune?
And my, my Allison. She is well on her way to turn into the strong, unyielding person her mother was, a testament to the resilience embedded in the Gambino family. For such feeble genes, such weakness of spirit, are simply not part of their lineage. But look at what love, that unpredictable, often messy, force, brings to the table: sometimes the weakest of links, creating vulnerabilities thought impossible. Or is it merely the unexpected catalyst for profound, transformative strength? The answer, like so many things in this story, remains to be seen, tucked away in the unfolding pages.