Page 2 of Forgive Me, Father

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 theIl 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 Nerowasn’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 theIl 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.