Page 1 of Forgive Me, Father (Don #1)

ONE

CAMILLA SANTORE AKA THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

Outside, the Californian coast lay shrouded in a sharp chill, the ocean wind rattling windowpanes like distant sleigh bells. But inside, on Christmas Eve, the only night we could get married, the world softened.

I stood in front of the mirror checking out my dress and trying to focus only on my dress.

Delicate straps kissed my shoulders like a whisper of silk against skin.

The woven fabric flowed with quiet elegance, cinching softly at my waist before cascading outward in a graceful flare just below my hips.

Every stitch seemed to know me, where to cling, where to release, sculpting me into something ethereal.

My breath caught, heart stammering in my chest like a startled bird, wondering what Philip would see as I walked toward him.

I reached for the long-sleeved jacket draped over the arm of the single velvet chair in my dressing room.

The delicate piece transformed the sleek trumpet silhouette into something out of a fairy tale.

I slid my arms through the lace sleeves. Then turned to the mirror once more.

Philip.

I tensed up sometimes when I thought about him.

He was half-and-half, cut right down the middle: fifty percent so serious that you were afraid to simply look at him wrong, and fifty percent playful, like he could make you laugh until your tummy hurt.

He’d already killed a few who didn’t honor the code of the Dons. A code we all tried to live by, as our mothers and fathers raised us, honoring them on a daily basis.

1. Loyalty above all. Loyalty to family, to the Dons.

2. Silence is golden. We never cooperate with the law, outsiders, or anyone who isn’t part of the Dons.

3. Respect for the Elders. They’ve been here the longest, know the best, and their word is practically law.

4. Respect Territory and Boundaries. Every family has one; violating them could cause a war.

5. Honor the dead.

6. No one leaves. Once in, you’re in it for life.

7. Your word is your bond. Honor all deals and transactions.

8. Women and children are to be protected.

9. Respect the code of Silence.

The last one, it’s not a rule, it’s sacred, part of the air we breathed.

Breaking any of the nine is seen as betrayal, the ultimate sin that comes with a list of ways to punish.

It’s hectic, but it’s my world. A world filled with dos and don’ts. If you broke them, you could lose your life, but if you followed them, the rewards were big.

The women and men each had more lists below the rules that shaped us, who we’d become, preparing us for the role in “the family.”

Rules like women were not seen just as daughters but as negotiation tools to merge families together, creating new bloodlines that would be stronger, more powerful.

Marrying Philip was a duty; it was arranged, put down in the slates since I was ten years old.

Lucky for me, we grew up together. He was my brother, Milo’s best friend and always slipped in and out of our lives like he belonged there.

It wasn’t hard for us to become friends, and from there, something deeper quietly took root. I thanked God every day that I actually loved my fiancé and couldn’t wait to marry him.

With our marriage, the Santore and DaCosta families would become one, bringing the docks, the DaCosta empire, and the distribution network, the Santore empire, under a single roof.

The same would happen to my sister, Emily, when she married Gustaf Davini.

The Divini’s empire comprised entertainment businesses in the form of gambling houses and a string of strip clubs.

And Milo, my brother, to Donatella Moretti, whose family rules the security side of it all.

They were all fronts for illegal operations, but that was our lives.

Like I said, we were not just children. We were pawns in big mergers.

My father believed this merger would be the move that lifted us into the Il Volto Nero , the sovereign circle of the mafia.

A council ruled by a single family, powerful beyond imagination.

They could erase you from existence with a whisper or elevate your bloodline into a legend with the stroke of a pen.

Il Volto Nero wasn’t just one table, but many, stacked in quiet tiers of influence and power. Each level above the last was stronger, closer to the ruling family, the ultimate seat every family coveted. To sit near them was to have a voice. To be heard. To matter.

The circle itself was made up of one representative, usually the head, from every inducted family. Their identities were masked in ceremonial black, their allegiance sealed in blood and silence. Behind those masks, decisions were made that shaped the underworld.

My father had worn his own for years. The mask, midnight-black, etched with barely visible sigils of rank and heritage, was accompanied by ceremonial garb threaded with legacy. It was more than tradition; it was identity. A symbol worn with pride at sacred rituals.

One day, Milo and Philip would wear those masks too. When their time came, they would step into the silence, just as he had.

The ruling family remained in Italy, guarding their stronghold like royalty.

From there, they kept the Dons in line, made or broke legacies, and watched the world move beneath them.

Every major decision passed through their hands, or at the very least, crossed their table.

In our case, it was the latter. We weren’t high up enough for them to notice, let alone care.

This merger was my father’s attempt to change that. To force recognition. To drag our name out of the shadows and lay it beside theirs, or close enough that we mattered.

And if everything went according to plan, perhaps one day, our grandchildren wouldn’t just be partners. They would be family, bound not only by business but by blood.

Anyway, that was the endgame. The legacy my father was willing to risk everything for, and since we were little, my mother groomed me and my sister to play our parts.

She taught us everything, from the way we move, how to speak with control, how to obey, and above all, to be loyal. To preserve every piece of ourselves, body and soul, for the men we would marry, and only until the day they claimed us.

That alone hadn’t been an easy task, but my mother was a woman of determination and had threatened us more than once by saying that she had brought us into this world, she could take us out as easily if we disobeyed her.

The smile that had lifted the corners of my lips faded, swallowed by the weight of what tonight would demand. The consummation ceremony loomed ahead. It was a ritual, an obligation, and a spectacle wrapped into one.

Even my first night with Philip wouldn’t belong to us.

It would all be recorded before a small hand of members belonging to the Il Volto Nero .

This ritual wasn’t a choice. It was doctrine, an unbreakable law the Dons lived and died by.

The rules were simple, but as I thought about them, terrifying too.

He needed to orgasm, I needed to orgasm, there had to be blood present, and we couldn’t stop until all of those things happened.

My friends had shown me how to fake an orgasm. We’d laughed ourselves breathless over it more times than I could count, especially since we doubted that it would happen on the first try.

It would be painful, and the stories about breaking your hymen around my age left me horrified.

That alone should make me run for the hills. It’s a wonder my mother and bridesmaids had left me alone to gather my thoughts.

But then, why wouldn’t she?

I always did everything my mother had trained me to do. Jumped through all of her impossible hoops, even if we didn’t get along.

My lungs begged for fresh air and I slipped out through the side door connected to the room. I stepped into the dim hallway and let the door close behind me with a soft click.

The silence was a small mercy.

My shoes disappeared in the soft carpeted passage as I drew in deep, steadying breaths. Trying to process all of the activities that were going to happen later.

I tried to steady my thoughts, forcing my gaze to the Christmas decorations that lined the corridor like a dream.

White and green wreaths hung in elegant symmetry along the walls, their ribbons tied with care, while towering trees stood like sentinels in each corner, their branches heavy with delicate ornaments that caught the soft glow of the lights.

It was beautiful, calm almost, but the peace it offered felt just out of reach.

I turned around the corner and found myself in front of Philip’s door.

I was about to knock when the door clicked open and sex noises came from inside his room.

My body stiffened.

Maybe it wasn’t him. It could be Milo or Charlie, his idiot of a best man. I turned around and was about to close the door when I heard a woman yelling his name.

“Philip, don’t stop. I’m coming. I’m coming.”

My breath caught in my throat as she continued yelling and screaming her orgasm.

Philip grunted like a beast.

Tears welled up in my eyes as the woman laughed. I knew that laugh by heart. It belonged to my fiery best friend, Victoria.

They were both laughing now.

“Run away with me please?” she begged.

“Vicky, you know I have no choice. We would never be free if we ran. They would hunt me down, literally.” Silence lingered. “I wish you were part of the Dons. I would marry you in a heartbeat.”

Heat prickled up my spine, and I fought to steady my breathing.

I couldn’t let this moment unravel, couldn’t ruin the delicate beauty of my dress and makeup by succumbing to the panic creeping up on me.

“Go clean up, we need to get back to our parties before anyone notices we’re gone.”

A single tear slipped down my cheek as I spun on my heel, my heart pounding as I fled in the opposite direction, desperate to escape the weight of everything closing in around me.

I was set to marry him in less than half an hour, but I kept running. I turned around the corner just as they exited the room. Their laughter bounced off the walls in the opposite direction.

I stopped as betrayal struck with the force of a blow, draining the strength from my legs. I crumpled against the wall, sliding to the floor in a heap.

My back pressed to the cold surface, knees drawn tightly to my chest, as the fragile pieces of my world shattered around me.

I thought he loved me, thought he cared about me. And today of all days, I found out that it was a farce and he actually loved my best friend, who wasn’t even part of the Dons.

I’d always known Vicky was attracted to him, but never in a million years did I think she would betray me like that.

She knew I had no choice, and while I could’ve married a betrothed who I loved and trusted, she obviously just didn’t give a fuck about that.

Her betrayal was the worst.

I wiped the tears and snot from my face. Fuck this wedding; fuck everything.

I refused to marry Philip DaCosta.