Son of The King of Pop

The room was dim, the air thick with an unsettling quiet. A large, wooden bed dominated the space, and in it lay the dying form of Augusto Valentini. His once imposing frame, now shriveled and worn from age, seemed too fragile for the man who once ruled the underworld with an iron fist. Surrounding him were his children—sons, daughters, and grandchildren—faces solemn, knowing they were witnessing the end of an era.

Augusto, the founder of the Valentini crime family, had forged his legacy through decades of blood, betrayal, and calculated brutality. He had outlasted some of the most powerful mob bosses in American history: Carlo Gambino, Paul Castellano, and John Gotti. His name had become synonymous with fear and respect, earning him titles like "The Godfather," "Don Augusto," "The King of the United States Underworld," and "The Dictator of New York City." Now, however, he was not the force he once was. Time had diminished his power, as it did to all men.

But Augusto Valentini wasn't afraid of death. As he lay there, his breath shallow, his body betraying him for the final time, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He had lived not just one life, but two. Few men could claim to have lived as fully as he had—twice. He could still remember his first life, a mundane existence where he had been no one special, just another man caught in the ordinary flow of time. He had died at thirty-three, in a tragic car accident, in the year 2024. And then, inexplicably, he had been reborn.

Reborn in 1960, in New York, with a second chance and knowledge of the future. That knowledge had helped him rise swiftly in the criminal world, navigating the mob wars and eliminating his enemies with precision and foresight. He used lessons from mob films like The Godfather and Goodfellas—films he had watched in his first life. How ironic, he often thought, that those fictional depictions of crime had helped shape him into one of the most feared men in America.

Now, as his vision blurred and the world began to fade, his mind wandered to his family. They would be well taken care of. He had made sure of it. His empire was secure, his fortune vast. His children, though not as ruthless as he had been, would carry on his legacy. He had built an unshakable foundation for them.

But this was not the end. Deep down, Augusto knew he was not finished. He had a feeling—a certainty—that this was only a transition. And so, as his final breath left his body, he was not afraid.