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The day Maddie and Maximo were born, Bella begged me to let her live her own life.
“Please, Al. This life isn’t kind to women. What if she isn’t as lucky as I am…”
She wanted Maddie to have the agency to make her own decisions, to create her own happiness. And because I would do anything for my darling wife and was a man of my word, I made a promise to her that night. Maddalena Harleigh Rosa Vettore would choose her own path and be responsible for the choices she made. The only concession is that she had to remain tied to the famiglia.
If she wanted to go to law school, fine, but she had to represent us. If she wanted to own a bakery like her nonna, fine. But the bakery laundered our money and was on our territory. If she wanted a seat at the table to oversee an aspect of the business, that would be ideal. I’d train her myself. That was my way of keeping my bambina safe.
That night, my leadership ushered a new era in the way our operation works. I created a new tradition.
“Alessandro?” Popov breaks me from my thoughts. “I think they would be a good match for each other.”
“I won’t make that decision for my daughter, or any of my sons. She’ll choose her path, her partner, and her career. Your son is welcome to earnestly pursue her when she’s of age, but she’ll make her own choice, and it will be respected.”
His raucous laughter rings throughout the garden, catching the attention of our wives, children, and the staff lingering in the background.
“You know, Alessandro, most men in our position would take offense to that. Do you not think my son is good enough for your daughter?” His eyes narrow, and he leans forward in his seat, resting his forearms on the table.
“My decision has nothing to do with your son or your family. I made it when my twins were born six years ago. All of my children are equally capable of making their own choices. I have the feeling Maddie will make an excellent businesswoman or lawyer, so I want her to be able to pursue that and add value to the family.”
“The only value women have is the ability to tie to another family and produce a child to cement it,” he scoffs.
His ignorance knows no bounds. If the Russians weren’t a prime distributor for our guns in Eastern Europe, I wouldn’t deal with him. I squeeze my wine glass hard enough that the stem breaks in my hand. The shards slice my palm and I don’t even wince at the pain. I’m unable to feel physical pain anymore–not after all the shit life put me through in my forty-two years.
A fissure of fear cuts through his cocksure armor, and he promptly changes the subject. We spend our dessert discussing other topics–issues moving product at the southern border and how to handle a new street gang that doesn’t know its place.
“You know, Alessandro,” he says just before the evening closes, “you give your girl an inch, she’ll take a mile. The other families will want to strengthen alliances and will see your decision as disrespect.” His beady eyes stare at Maddie, and I fight the urge to stab him in my foyer. I can see a storm of a plan churning in his mind. Grabbing his shirt collar, I pull him toward me before his guard can draw his gun. My gun is pointed at his stomach, the barrel cocked and ready to blow his intestines to shreds.
“Don’t look at my daughter that way again. If you ever harm her, I’ll end you. I’m king of this city for a reason, Popov,” I warn him.
He glares at me and nods before meeting his family in their limo.
After he leaves, I help my wife put the twins to bed, then meet with Franco in my office. At eighteen, he is more than capable of shadowing me in certain aspects of the business. Once he earns his degree, he can take on more responsibility.
He sits across the desk from me, still in his black suit from earlier. Everything about my son—from his midnight hair, height, and facial features—is my spitting image, except his blue eyes he got from Bella. All of my children have them.
I eye the picture of his mother and me from our wedding day that hangs on the opposite wall. Although I’ve seen that picture a thousand times, it still chills me how similar he looks to the younger, less jaded version of me.
“Did you overhear my conversation with Popov today?”
“Yeah, and I prefer we didn’t marry Maddie off to Dmitri… There’s something not right about him. I don’t like the way he looks at her. It’s unnerving.” Franco isn’t quiet, per se, but reserved. He only speaks when he has something to say.
Words spoken cannot be unspoken. It’s a hard lesson in life and one I’m thankful he acquired early. I file that tidbit about Popov’s son away.
“I meant what I said. Your sister will never be forced to marry someone she doesn’t choose, and neither will you nor your brothers. I may ask you to consider someone as an option, but the decision ultimately lies with each of you. She’ll also be able to choose her path, as long as she stays connected to the family. Times are changing, son, and I’m not putting your sister through an arranged marriage. I love her too much for that.”
“True, not everyone is as lucky as you and Mom,” he comments. It warms my heart that my son can see how much I love his mother. She’s my everything, as it should be.
“The issue is bigger than their obsession with marrying into the family. The Russians are trying to expand beyond their place, getting too big for their britches. You weren’t alive to witness it, but have you ever heard of the Darkest Days?”
My son sits up straighter in his chair as his face slightly pales. “Yes. In the late eighties, the Italians, Irish, and Albanians were at war with the Russians, Chinese, and a cartel. The warfare burned part of the city to the ground.”
“I remember those days, son. The morgues ran out of room and many women lost their sons and husbands. I lost my eldest brother. That war changed the entire trajectory of my life. The Brigade could barely stop it.”
His eyes widen when I bring up The Brigade. They’re not a group you drop casually in conversation. Most don’t talk about them unless they have to. He nods, but remains silent as he absorbs what I’m saying.
“None of the families can afford to go through that again, so it’s important we monitor this situation and keep the Russians under control before they fuck everything up.”
“Will do, Papà. There has to be a way to do that where we don’t sacrifice Maddie,” he ponders as he rubs his chin in thought.
