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“Marina called. She invited us over next Saturday.”
“I wish you a lovely night.”
“They will be your family too.”
“Don’t make me go.”
“Don’t make me make you go then. Stop being selfish.”
Her words cut my heart into perfectly sliced pieces. Bitterness seeps through my clamped throat. “How can you accuse me of that when you sent me an ocean away from my family?”
She shakes her head at me, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Why do you always have to be this difficult?”
“Why can’t you just be a mother for once?”
“Chiara,” my father booms from the door, and my chest heaves with pain.
“You will go, and you will marry him. End of discussion. You are replaceable, daughter, maybe I didn’t make myself clear.”
I force myself to stay upright while his words sucker-punch the air from my lungs.
“It’s okay, honey. Chiara didn’t mean that.”
I shoot them both a glare, and my mother sends me a warning look. It’s too late for her to protect me.
“If you turn your back on this family, you will never be welcomed again. And this is your last warning,” my father says.
I thought that was the end of it, but he steps inside and stares at my makeshift jewelry kit.
“You’ll get these back when you’ve earned it.” My father storms out of the room, hollering for his men to come upstairs.
I remain frozen on the spot, staring, as moments later, his men take away every last one of my supplies. All that remains is my bracelet.
Alone in my room, I don’t cry, even though my insides crack.
One day I will be free. One day. But that day is not today, or will it be tomorrow. Okay, Father, I’ll pretend, and pretend so well that when I’m gone, you’ll realize who fooled whom. I am your daughter. Manipulation is part of my DNA.
My sister comes into my room, a small smile plastered on her face, and I stop pacing.
“I thought . . . Do you want me to tell Papa I can take your place?”
“What?”
“I am still young, but I will be eighteen next year, and well, he can wait . . .”
“No. This is my responsibility as your older sister.” I try to deflect my personal reasons for not wanting her with Cato.
She giggles. “You like him.”
“No.”
“I like my life just as it is, but you don’t. I am better suited.”
I sink onto the edge of the bed, and she takes my hand in hers.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
