Better plan

Alvin drove into his father's banana penthouse. He came out of the car with a grunt and watched as the security men ran over to greet him.

 “Good day, young boss,” one of the guards said. 

 Alvin recognised him as one of the many men his father had picked up from the streets and made them work for him.

 “Good day,” muttered Alvin, even though he wasn't really in the mood.

 “We've been—” another guard started to say before Alvin cut him off: “Does my father have any visitors?“

 The guard looked hurt by the interruption; but he replied anyway. “He's with some of his boys.“

 Alvin gritted his teeth when he heard the guard and matched into the penthouse.

 It was one of Mr Miller's thousand properties. Alvin remembered that his father wasn't very rich when he was five but suddenly bloomed into a real estate tycoon after he turned ten. This particular penthouse was bought a year ago. Alvin sighed as he remembered that he almost fainted when he learnt that the penthouse was bought for eighty-two million dollars.

 The servants and maids in the house's hallway greeted and bowed to him as he passed. Alvin smiled at a couple of them through his mask but soon stopped smiling after realising that they hadn't seen his face in almost six years.

 He entered the sitting room with care—not wanting to provoke any of his father's three pit-bull dogs, but he meant an empty sitting-room.

 “What the…” Alvin stopped as he recognised his father's manager walking to him from the other side of the large room.

 “Mr Miller is on his way, young Mr Alvinson,” announced the manager.

 “Loki!“ Alvin yelled. “I've warned you countless times; never add “son” when calling my name!“

 “You should also have some respect when addressing me,” Manager Loki said to Alvin with a chuckle.

 He hugged Alvin after that, patting his back and laughing like he had just met an old friend. 

 “I can't believe the fact that we haven't seen each other for a year and half. You've grown so big… and taller.“

 Alvin pulled out of the hug like he was choking him. “Yeah? And you must have forgotten another important fact—I punched your face the last time we met.“

 “You never forget things, do you? Even though I called and told you I was…”

 Manager Loki's sentence was cut short when he caught sight of Mr Miller climbing down the stairs into the sitting room.

 “He's here,” he whispered to Alvin and then tapped his back before he started to walk out.

 “Stay put, Loki,” Mr Miller commanded. “You're part of the family.“

 Manager Loki nodded in understanding and walked over to Alvin.

 “Sit!“ 

 Alvin cursed under his breath and balled his hands into a fist before he sat down. Manager Loki sat close to him in silence.

 Mr Miller walked into the sitting-room and sat on the chair in front of them.

 “There'd better be a good reason for this, father,” Alvin snapped.

 Mr Miller glanced at him, typing into his phone after that. 

 “I—” 

 “Your mother called,” Mr Miller said.

 Alvin felt like he couldn't breathe, like his intestine had wrapped around his heart and was squeezing the life in it.

 Manager Loki scratched his chin, obviously very confused on why his boss wanted him to stay.

 “Did she ask about me?“ Alvin asked, even though he already knew the answer. He didn't care, anyway.

 “She did,” Mr Miller replied, dropping his phone on the chair. “But you'd wish she never did once you find out what she said.“

 “What did she—”

 “We're not here for that, Alvin,” Mr Miller interrupted once again, clapping his hands after that.

 At that moment, a large and dark haired man dressed in black walked into the room. He had a scar that ran three inches over his face; and Alvin immediately knew that he didn't get injured by accident—his father must have cut the guy's face with his favorite knife.

 He was holding a portrait in his hands, and he handed them over to Mr Miller before he bowed.

 “Do you know this guy?“ Mr Miller asked, referring to the picture in his hands.

 Alvin's eyes roamed over it. It was a picture of a fine man, dark hair and evil eyes with a tattoo of a scorpion on his face.

 “No, I don't,” Alvin decided.

 “He's Raven Waxson, Gomez Waxson's son.“

 Manager Loki gasped in shock when he heard his boss. Alvin's mouth was wide open in disbelief.

 “I… thought all of his children were dead,” Alvin stammered.

 “They aren't all dead. It seems like Gomez asked his lawyer to give all of his properties to just one of his children once he died.“

 “Then what is the problem? Why am I here?“ Alvin asked with impatience.

 “Sources say Gomez Waxson has twenty-three children, all from different mothers. Do you know what that means?“

 Manager Loki stood up, his face clouded in disbelief.

 Alvin weighed his reaction, none of his father's minions ever showed shock or weakness. Alvin also knew that each of the members of his father's mafia family had the letter “M” branded on their tummy with hot iron.

 “What does it mean?“ Alvin asked, not very interested in the topic. 

 “It means the twenty-three children will have to kill each other for one of them to get his properties,” Manager Loki replied instead.

 Alvin let out a shocked gasp, moving his hands over his hair. He wondered if his father would have done the same thing if he had that many children.

 “But that still doesn't point to why you called me here,” Alvin said.

 “Well… Raven is the last of his children since he has killed the rest twenty-two of them,” Mr Miller paused and took a sip of his whiskey which was placed on the table. “He's the first born so he's going to come for me with everything he has… since I killed his father.“

 “Shit! This is really bad. Why did you have to kill Gomez—”

 “Don't ask foolish questions!“ yelled Mr Miller. “He would have killed me instead if I didn't kill him, that's the rule of mafia families, and the Scorpions are our biggest rivals.“

 “So you asked me to come here because of what, exactly? To cry about the fact that my billionaire Mafia father might die because—”

 “Don't be childish,” Mr Miller said, using his mafia voice which scared Alvin to the bones. “There's a particular thing that Mafia families always have advantage over their rivals.“

 “And what is that if I may ask?“ demanded Alvin.

 “You're the first person they'll come for.“

 Alvin wanted to speak but couldn't find his voice. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead. They were going to kill him! All because of his father's sins.

 “What are we going to do about it?“ Alvin asked, his voice echoing fear. “You're not going to completely lock me off from my social life because of this, will you?“ 

 “I might have to,” Mr Miller said.

 “What!“ Alvin exclaimed, standing up in anger.

 “But I came up with a better plan,” Mr Miller calmly continued, like they were merely talking about the weather.

 “What plan?“ Alvin asked with impatience.

 “Marry Amanda, and I'll make sure the Scorpions never come near you.“

“……”