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Francesca

I hate this life. I hate these rules. I hate everything about it.

People see the glitz, the money, the gold, the glamour, but they don’t see the cage we live in. I want out, always have.

Even as a teenager, I knew the price of luxury and comfort was too high. But there’s no way out of the mafia. Whether you're born into it or dragged in, your only escape is six feet under…

Unless, by some miracle, your family and the don agree to grant your freedom.

That will never happen. Not in my house. Not with a father so cruel and violent that he sees my mother as little more than a broodmare.

And me?

I’m just an asset. Something he can trade. Someone he hits when he feels the need, but never in the face though. We don’t show bruises in the Mori family.

I’ve made my peace with that… most of the time.

But some days, like today, it’s harder.

Today, I watched one of my friends, someone from outside the famiglia, get engaged to a man she actually loves.

And it hurts.

Because I know, with absolute certainty, that will never be my future.

Of course I’ve thought about running. Who wouldn’t? But I also know what happens when they find you. And that knowledge alone is enough to kill any lingering dreams of escape.

Even if this life is a slow, quiet death… at least there’s still the hope of getting out. At least it won’t end with hours of pain and suffering.

I smile.

No, actually, I am happy for Jane.

But I pretend I’m not suffocating.

I’ve gotten good at that.

I’m an expert at pretending. Sometimes, I even fool myself just long enough to forget that I was born into a gilded prison.

So I dance. I laugh, cheer, and clap, all while knowing that soon I’ll return to that gloomy, suffocating mansion in the hills.

They drive past our estate with stars in their eyes, whispering, “If only…” They see a palace. I see a prison. I watch them from the window, wishing I could ride away in their beat-up car.

People don’t realize how priceless liberty is… until they no longer have that luxury.

When I get home, I pause just for a breath before opening the door. Because I swear, the moment I step into that hallway, it gets harder to breathe.

Today is no different, except this time, my mother is waiting.

She stands in the center of the hall, stiffer than usual, with her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

I glance at my watch, my heart thudding. Then the tension eases.

“I said I’d be back before eight. It’s only seven.”

Sad, isn’t it? Still having to defend myself like a teenager living under my parents’ curfew.

But I know what happens if I’m late, even by a minute. Grounded, probably. Maybe a slap for good measure. With the back of his hand, of course. It hurts more and leaves fewer marks.

What can I say? Papa’s had years to perfect it.

“Your father is waiting for you in his office.”

No. No, no, no. My skin already tingles at the thought. What did I do? What did he find out?

“I—”

“Don Salvatore is with him.”

And just like that, I wish it were the beating. Because if my father wants to see me with the don, there’s only one possible reason.

They’re going to marry me off.

At that thought, even the sharp burn of his belt on my back doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Don’t make them wait. Hurry.”

“Mom, please, I?—”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

Are you? I don’t say it out loud. I can’t. I just walk, legs shaky, breath so scattered I see stars, toward the office.

I know I’m not being fair to her. She’s tried to shield me when she could, in the quiet, hidden ways that wouldn’t get her hurt.

But she’s scared, too, and she’s just as stuck in this life as I am. Still, knowing that doesn’t stop the bitterness from curling inside me like rot.

I knock, and my father tells me to come in.

The first thing I see is his smile, predatory and calculating.

Then Don Salvatore, expression carved in stone, his gaze a quiet, ruthless appraisal.

But it’s not until my eyes land on Bruno, my father’s first guard and, somehow, the person I trust most in this house, that my stomach truly knots.

It defies logic that my father and I would trust the same man, and yet it’s true. And the look Bruno gives me, tight-lipped and worried, tells me everything I need to know .

This isn’t going to be good.

“Please, have a seat, Francesca. We have good news for you.”

I glance at Bruno again, and my father’s expression darkens into a scowl.

“Francesca.”

“Don Salvatore.” I nod to the man and take my seat, straightening my spine, crossing my legs at the ankle and to the side just like the proper lady I’m expected to be.

“I asked you here today because I have a deal to offer.”

I sit up a little straighter. Offer may be generous. It’s more likely a command dressed up as a kindness.

Don Salvatore watches me, and it feels like I can hear the wheels turning in his mind. I’m not sure I like that.

“You want out, don’t you?” My father’s cold voice cuts through my thoughts.

My soul screams yes, but my lips are frozen.

I can feel Bruno’s gaze at the back of my neck, and I want, no, I need to turn to see what he’s trying to tell me. But I don’t move.

“Francesca, reply.”

Don Salvatore watches me with a glint of approval. “Wary and cautious. Good.”

The chill in his smile sinks into my bones.

“She may be the perfect choice after all.”

My brows draw together.

He leans forward. “Your father says you’d do almost anything to get out of the mafia life.”

I glance sideways at my father.

Of course he knows. He’s always known. He just doesn’t care.

I nod slowly.

“What if I allow you out?” Don Salvatore continues. “No strings attached. A clean break. A life away from the famiglia… with a generous bank account to start over.”

For a second, I feel it, a pinprick, bright and sharp… hope.

But the excitement is drowned in dread just as quickly.

If what he’s offering is true… then whatever they’re about to ask me is probably going to kill me.