The idea that one had the ability to set their own pace in life, and could simply follow the beats of their heart like the steady ticks of a winded clock, always seemed foreign to me.

Time wasn't something to be owned, was it? It wasn't a car, or a building, or clothes. It was something to be spent, wasn't it? Like money?

I was never meant to have a heart.

I was never meant to hear it's beat echo through my soul and let it rip me in half with it's devastating rythm.

I was to live a life previously imagined for me. Orchestrated by untouchable powers that were to dictate every aspect of my self that ever was, and ever would be.

I was never meant to break through my carefully constructed shell and find the universe waiting for me outside. With it's vivid creativity, it's fragile hope, and it's wide, doe eyes.

But once I was found by the watchmaker my heart didn't stand a chance.

I realized I was nothing but an immature kid, scared frozen in the face of true grandness.

The watchmaker didn't mind my fractured heart, though. Even with it's sharp, jagged edges.

He was always meant to fix me.

_____

1906

I hid inside one of my father's book closets as the elders spoke.

A secret Mafiosi meeting was being held in one of the larger halls of the house, and I, a ten-and-a-half-year old at the time, had successfully infiltrated the room.

Twelve capos sat at a long, mahogany table as they each gave their accounts of how their business in America had been lately. Most of the organization's activity was located in Europe, as the institution originated from Italy. But the group had many ties in America too, and it was my father's job to oversee those. He was the connection between Italy and America, and made sure that the communication between the families never suffered.

I stared at the many made men sitting at the table, who, in their tight black-and-white suits, all looked like boring penguins to me. Their hair was slicked back with oil, and they never smiled, even if a joke was told. My father sat at the head of the table as capo dei capi, the boss of bosses, and I admired him with large eyes from the shadows of the closet.

"We've got half of the Garcia family locked up and we've begun asking for ransom," mister Bianchi said, one of the chubbier men at the table. "But we were dealing with the Millers too, and I have to visit some fellas with massive gambling debts, so we're a bit occupied."

"I can take one of them off your hands," Mister Rossi immediately proposed. "I've got a few new members joining my family. They've proven themselves worthy so I've got hands to spare."

"No, your attention is unmissable in the cocaine dealings Rossi," my father spoke up, demanding everyone's attention. His cold, beady eyes gave away no emotion, his hawk-like focus set on every man in the room as though he were constantly scanning them for weaknesses. "You are our biggest link to downtown Manhatten."

"I'll do it," Mister Alcalmo sighed with a casual wave of his hand. "Deliver the Millers to my nightclub, I have some room in the basement there."

My father's eyes flickered to Alcalmo. "You were planning on doing A truck-hijacking, weren't you? Are you two people, Alcalmo? Can you live multiple lives at once?"

I held my breath as Alcalmo's eyes narrowed with contempt. He was a frail, skinny man, with thin lips and even thinner hair. He didn't like my father. But he wanted to be my father.

"Let me send men to visit some of your debt-holders," my father proposed. He cracked his fingers, and breathed in deeply through his nostrils. "I will have them dealt with."

My father hated people with debts. There was something that annoyed him beyond measure about people who simply took what they wanted without caring for the consequences. Perhaps it was the stupidity of it that bothered him. My father hated stupidity.

"Thank you, Capo Park," Mister Bianchi said with overflowing gratefulness. "My wife will be pleased to see me joining dinner a few nights more often."

My father gave the man a curt nod. "Family is everything."

The meeting ended soon after, and one by one, the different capos left the room.

I waited until it was quiet before I revealed myself, but the second I left my perfect hiding spot, I saw my father, waiting for me by the door.

"Why didn't you check to see if everyone was gone?" He asked, stepping toward me with his hands folded behind his back.

I swallowed thickly. I had failed my little mission. My father had discovered me. "I was afraid someone would spot me, father. I didn't hear anything so I was sure those brainless idiots were gone."

"And you weren't afraid to be wrong in your assumption?" My father asked sternly. "You were in a position from which you could perfectly observe the entire room, and yet you threw it away to escape."

"I'm sorry father..." I whispered, playing with my fingers. "But, I fooled the others, didn't I? No one except you noticed me."

My father hummed, robotically reaching out to pet my head. "We don't know that for sure. Now, tell me what you've learned. Report the information to me like a good spy."

I looked up at my father with crinkled eyes and smiled broadly. "Date and time, July eight 3:15, place, mister Park's Mansion conference room on the first floor, people present, Bianchi, Alcalmo, Rossi, Busi, Canali, Errani... uh.. F-Falco..."

My father hummed before helping me. "Farnese, Fusco, Di Paola, Giuliano, Angelo, Arosio and-"

"Park," I said full of confidence. "Speaking topics, the prostitution business at Alcalmo's nightclubs, Bianchi's Casino, Bianchi's nightclubs, father's- I mean, Park's Bank, Rossi's drug trafficking business-"

"Good, good," My father said. "And what if I ask what color necktie Alcalmo was wearing?"

"Red," I answered right away.

"And Angelo?"

"Yellow."

My father looked pleased. He stroked my cheek, and the corner of his lips edged up.

Even though I was only ten at the time, I had only ever seen my father smile when he looked at me. It was as if the existence of his smile was a secret kept only between us, and nothing on earth made me feel more special. I was everything he needed me to be, and I knew there would be nothing but glory in my future if I trusted my father's guidance and accepted my responsibilities as his son.

"You have great potential, mio figlio," my father murmured. "Go outside and play. We will continue your lessons another time."