After They Watched the Video, They All Turned on Me

The first was my brother, Marco.

That morning, I told him I'd asked for a divorce two days earlier and Enzo still wouldn't let me leave. My brother didn't tell me to think it over. He only asked whether the men at the gate had laid a hand on me.

Enzo headed the Mafia family that controlled our small Italian town, and every guard at the estate answered to him. I waited by the door with my luggage. When Marco arrived, he parked his car sideways across the gateway.

Marco took my suitcase, tossed it into the trunk, then opened the passenger door for me. "If anyone tries to stop you today, I'll put them down right here."

When he saw the little blue jacket in my arms, his voice softened. "Bring it. You can sort everything out once we get to my place."

It was the jacket Leo wore when he was three and a half. After he disappeared, I held on to it every time I begged for answers, and I wouldn't let go even on the day of the funeral. My brother didn't tell me to leave it behind, so I held it tighter against me.

My brother leaned in to buckle my seat belt. When he noticed me trembling, he gently covered my hand with his.

"When we were kids, I could get you away from Dad. I can get you out of here now, too. Just give me the address. Don't be scared."

When we were kids, our father would get drunk and beat me. My brother would carry me out of the room and wouldn't let go even when he took a punch to the back. I'd hide against his chest, crying and clutching his shirt.

I looked at his hand over mine and nodded. With Marco there, I finally felt like I had a way out.

I pulled up the address my divorce lawyer had sent me. Outside, the guards finally backed off. I was about to hand my phone to Marco when Enzo walked down the front steps and called out to him. "You can take her if you want. But first, you should see why I haven't let her leave."

Marco followed him into the study, his expression cold. I watched the door through the windshield, my fingers still on the seat belt buckle.

My brother had put together Leo's very first crib. He'd put a screw in wrong, and I'd never let him live it down. After that, whenever he came over, he'd test the crib rail himself before asking if Leo was sleeping okay. As I stared at the study door, part of me still hoped Enzo would finally tell him the truth.

Five minutes later, he came out.

I held up my phone, waiting for him to get in the driver's seat. Instead, he came around to my side and yanked my door open.

"Get out."

I'd barely said his name when he unbuckled my seat belt, seized me by the collar, and hauled me out of the car. I clung to the door frame with my left hand, but he peeled my fingers away and gave my arm a hard yank. Pain shot through my wrist, and Leo's jacket slipped from my grasp.

Before I could find my footing, his hand closed around my neck, and my back slammed into the side of the car.

"How shameless can you be, holding his clothes like that?" He lifted me by the throat, his eyes bloodshot. "I can't believe I was actually going to give you a fresh start!"

I couldn't breathe. I grabbed his wrist, and his watchband dug into my palm. It was the watch I'd bought him with my first paycheck. My fingers brushed the familiar clasp, and for one desperate moment, I wished he'd look down and remember who I was.

"Marco, you just said nobody was going to touch me today."

His grip loosened a little. Thinking I'd gotten through to him, I sucked in a breath. But then he looked at the little jacket on the ground and tightened his grip again.

"I thought you just couldn't save him!"

I shook my head frantically. My vision was starting to go dark. My brother finally let go. I doubled over in a fit of coughing, then grabbed his sleeve before he could walk away.

"What did he show you? Take me to the police. We'll straighten this out together!"

"After all this, you still want to go to the police and take everyone down with you?"

He shook me off. My side slammed against the stone steps. I tried to catch myself, but my injured left wrist gave out, and I fell hard onto the steps.

Marco opened the trunk and tossed my suitcase onto the ground. Then he took out my document pouch and slipped it into his pocket. A corner of my passport was still sticking out. I reached for it, but he turned away and bent down to pick up Leo's little jacket instead.

"Give that back." I crawled over and grabbed his pant leg. "Take everything else, but give me back the jacket."

Enzo's sister, Viola Mancini, came out of the study and took the jacket from Marco. She tossed it into the iron ash bucket by the door, then ground it under her heel, pressing the blue sleeve into the wet ash.

"Don't use that to play the victim anymore."

I threw myself at the bucket. Viola held it steady while I dug through the ash with my injured hand. I looked up at Marco. He was right there. All he had to do was reach out and stop her.

"Marco, tell her to give me back the jacket."

He didn't move. I called his name again. Only then did he look away and turn back to close the trunk.

Enzo didn't crouch beside me until I'd dragged the jacket out. He reached around my waist to pull me up, but I recoiled. My bruised side scraped against the stone step, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Stop bringing people here to cause trouble." He leaned in close. "The jacket can be washed. We can still move past this. Irene, just do as you're told."

He reached for the jacket, and I clutched the cuff. On our wedding day, he'd adjusted the neckline of my dress and said my name in that same gentle voice. He'd promised that no one would ever hurt me again. But when Marco had his hands around my throat, Enzo had stood by and watched. And now he was telling me to do as I was told.

I lowered my head, hugged the jacket to my chest, and reached for my phone where it had fallen on the steps.

The side of my neck was already swelling, and I could barely move my left wrist. I took photos of my injuries and sent them to my best friend, Sofia Lombardi, and my grandfather. Then I dialed the emergency number.

Before I could finish dialing, Enzo snatched the phone away and handed it to Viola.

"Hold on to this. Don't let her near a phone again."

I heard an engine start outside. I used the railing to pull myself up and called out to Marco. He hit the brakes and rolled down his window. I thought he was coming back for me.

But Marco only looked at the guards at the gate.

"Watch her. If she tries to run again, drag her back."