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Chapter 1
Adalina
“Eww. No.”
“Adalina, Mario Alfonso is a good match! He comes from a good family. He is a Capo of the Chicago Outfit.”
“Mom, he is 20 years older than me! He is a perv too. All he did was stare at me at Paul Vincenzio’s wedding. I’m only 18! Can’t I wait a few more years to get married? I won’t mind an arranged marriage with someone from New York that is closer to my age. I don’t want to move to Chicago.”
“That was a beautiful wedding.”
“Yeah? And look how that turned out!”
“What a disgrace Paul Jr. taking up with strippers and Gina conspiring with the Bratva to kill Bobby!” My Mom is a notorious gossip.
“Enough!” Papa yells.
"I will not marry him!" I scream as tears stream down my face. "He's gross!"
My father stands up from his big wooden desk. He is frowning as he leans over his desk and slaps me hard across the face.
"You will marry him! It is your duty as my daughter! Now stop whining and think of the family and not yourself for a change!" My father screams.
His eyes burn with an intense red glare. I understand the implication all too well. If I refuse again, there will be no choice but death. This is the grim reality of defying one's parents in the Mafia. They wield absolute power, willing to do anything to uphold their authority.
I look away from my father, wiping the tears from my eyes. My cheek throbs with pain. I walk out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I hurry upstairs to my bedroom and shut the door.
Suddenly, my bedroom door flies open, and my father storms in. He towers over me, seething with anger. As the don of one of New York's five families, he has always treated me with bullying and abuse. I hate him.
"You will marry him! It is your duty as my daughter! Now stop whining and start thinking about the family instead of yourself for once! If you don’t marry him, I will give your sister to him in a year!” He yells, his voice filled with anger.
I stare at him, horrified by his words.
"Tomorrow, you will accompany your mother to choose a wedding dress. The wedding will take place in Chicago in one month. So, start packing your shit. You're moving to Chicago," he declares, storming out of my room.
My father's words sting, and the weight of my decision weighs heavily on me. Refusing to marry Mario would mean sacrificing Delphina's happiness. I feel defeated, overwhelmed by the inevitable. Collapsing onto my bed, tears flow freely from my eyes. In the world of the mafia, where tradition and duty reign, there is no escape.
A soft knock interrupts the silence, and my bedroom door creaks open. "Lina?" Delphina, my younger sister, enters the room, her eyes immediately drawn to the red mark on my face. Without hesitation, she hurries over and sits beside me on the bed, enveloping me in her frail arms. Tears continue to stream down my face, not solely because of the physical pain caused by Pappa's slap, but also due to the crushing weight of my impending marriage to Mario.
“Oh, Del, Papa is making me marry that creeper Mario!”
“Is that why he hit you?”
Delphina, at the age of 15, is dressed in her customary attire of black leggings and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. Her slender frame catches my attention, alarmingly thin. Mama suspects she might have anorexia due to her weird eating habits.
"He slapped me simply because I declined," she confesses with a tone of defiance. "I refuse to be wedded to some Outfit thug and be forced to live in Chicago."
"Lina, you're such a badass," she admires, her voice tinged with longing. "You always speak up and stand your ground. I wish I could possess the same strength as you."
"No, you don't," I respond, my voice laden with the weight of reality.
Delphina is a girl with an inferiority complex, often comparing herself to others and expressing a longing to be like them. She possesses a slender frame, a stark contrast to my curvy figure. Her thick, dark brown hair has a natural fuzziness, while mine cascades in wavy black locks like our mother's. While Papa's brown eyes grace Delphina's face, I bear hazel eyes like our mother's. Delphina perceives herself as unattractive, but in my eyes, she is truly beautiful with her braces, glasses, and frizzy hair. Adding to her insecurities, she grapples with acne.
Delphina's demeanor is one of quiet reserve, a stark contrast to my outspoken nature. She endures a physical affliction that impacts her daily life, a limp resulting from a stray bullet striking her knee during a shootout at a family barbecue in the Hamptons several years ago. Despite enduring multiple surgeries and undergoing physical therapy, she still faces challenges with mobility, walking with a noticeable limp.
“I am ugly. I will never be chosen. There will be no arranged marriage for me.”
“You are beautiful, Delphina. I admire you.”
