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“You’ll always be my little girl,” he says, his voice so low that only I can hear.
“Then let that little girl decide her fate,” I whisper.
He kisses the top of my head, keeping us there for another second, and then slowly releases me. I hold my hands together, clutching them against my mouth, and he becomes blurry through a world of tears.
No one stops me when I walk away.
I’m as alone as I’ve ever been when I enter the garage and toss my bag in my barely driven white BMW. I gulp for air through my sobs as I drive through the mansion’s gates.
My home for so long.
My walls of protection, but also my shackles, stopping my freedom.
But I’m more than just a Marchetti now.
I’m also a Lombardi.
I pretend not to notice my father’s car behind me.
It’s just him.
No driver.
A rarity.
If my father didn’t let me go like this, I’d think he was setting Antonio up. But there’s no way he’d ever use me as bait.
When it starts to pour, I swerve to the side of the road, and my father does the same while still keeping his distance. I shift the car into park and sob while pounding my knuckle against the steering wheel.
Why does this life have to be so hard on us women?
Why do I feel like such a shitty person for choosing myself for once?
I unbuckle my seat belt and pull the burner from my bag. It’s almost surreal as I call Antonio, praying he still has his and will answer.
Relief settles through me like a comfort blanket when he does. I unbuckle my seat belt and rest my forehead against the steering wheel as I ask my husband to come get me.
He doesn’t ask questions.
Within one minute, he’s already on the road.
As soon as he arrives, he jumps out of his car and runs to mine. I open the door, rain pelting my body, and press myself into his arms, shoving my face into his chest. My sobs intensify, shaking through my body louder than the rain.
Antonio strokes my hair, my back, and soothes me as I break down.
I’m not just Gigi Marchetti, the obedient Mafia princess.
I’m Gigi Marchetti-Lombardi.
It’s time I chose myself.
It’s time I gave my husband the same protection and commitment he’s given me.
49
Sonny is dead.
We’ve been killing his men left and right.
