Becoming The Mafia Queen

SOFIA

My father always said that only a stupid man would walk into a casino with the hope of winning anything. The smart ones walk in there with the hope of finding out about themselves, and they are the ones who walk out with more than they walked in.

I was five years old when he taught me that.

Now, I'm twenty-four, and I'm not standing in a casino but the stakes feel just as high.

"You're crazy," Valentina said.

"Aren't we all?" I replied, glancing over at the tall, grey-haired man who was in deep conversation with a steely-eyed woman who looked like she was bored out of her mind. "If this works, we could both make it in by next summer."

"Yeah, like the admissions officer is just going to hand you an opportunity to attend the most prestigious school in America," Valentina said. "Seriously, you're going to get us in trouble."

"I'm not going to ambush him," I said. "Come on. What do you take me for?"

"You're not?" she asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Then what are you going to do?"

I grabbed my coffee and stood up, smiling as the plan formulated in my head. "I'm going to create a scene."

"Sofia—wait—"

But it was too late. I was already walking across the restaurant, making my way over to the booth and trying to look as nonchalant as possible. I knew it was crazy, but this was my chance to at least get him to know who I am. And from there, everything would fall into place accordingly.

Just as I reached their booth, I braced myself for the shitstorm that was heading my way. And in a move that would have made a ballerina shrivel up in disgust and die, I twisted my ankle and stumbled towards the booth.

Poor Mr Bernard never saw it coming. The coffee flew straight towards him, and I watched (almost in slow motion) as the coffee spilled all over his suit. He leaped out of his seat, screeching in the most unmanly manner possible. I had to stifle my laughter as I rearranged my face to look like I was shocked, and I immediately reached for a napkin.

“Oh. My. God!” I exclaimed. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know where I was going, and I just tripped over my own feet. I’m such a klutz. And now I’ve ruined your suit.”

“It’s alright, dear,” he kept on saying while I dabbed at his suit hastily with the napkin. His wife was doubled over in laughter, and she was trying so hard not to make a sound while Mr Bernard kept turning redder by the minute.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Your suit looks so expensive, and yet I’ve ruined it completely.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, dear,” he said, offering a nervous smile. “Accidents happen.”

Now that I’d gotten what I wanted, I leaned back and squinted my eyes, as if I was trying to remember where I knew him from. His eyes were so red that they looked like steam was about to start blowing out of them at any moment. And I guess staring at him didn’t help. But that was exactly what I wanted.

“I’m so sorry, but you look so familiar,” I said. “Are you a movie star or something?”

“No, not at all,” he replied.

“Really? Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like George Clooney?” I asked, smiling at him.

“I appreciate the flattery, young lady,” he said. “But you don’t need to do all this. I’m not mad about the suit.”

“Oh, thank God,” I said. “I’m very sorry once again. I told myself I wasn’t going to be so clumsy anymore, but this always happens to me.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “It happens. In fact, why don’t you get another coffee on me? To replace the one you spilled.”

“That’s so kind of you,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, offering me a smile. I nodded as I hurried towards the bathroom, which was thankfully empty. I dumped the napkin by the sink, then pulled out the card which I’d swiped from Mr Bernard’s breast pocket. His name and phone number were written boldly on the card, with the title ‘Admissions Officer’ written beneath it. The logo of Yale was tucked neatly in the top corner, and just looking at it made me giddy. This could finally be my chance to do the impossible. This could be my chance to finally fulfill my dream, the same dream I’d had since I was a little girl.

It’s not that I just wanted to go to Yale because of its prestige. It was simply because my mom had gone there before she married my dad, and now that she was gone, I felt like doing this would bring me closer to her in some way. I had nothing to remember her by except some old photos. Everything she ever owned had been burned down in the fire, and now I only had a few pictures and stories of how beautiful and amazing she used to be. Carla Moretti was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my entire life. And if there was anything I could do to feel closer to her even for a single second, then I was going to do it.

My father didn’t want me to go to Yale though. It wasn’t because he couldn’t afford it, but because he didn’t believe in a degree of any kind. If it were up to him, I would be taking over the family business and taking care of the Moretti chain of restaurants by now. He had always wanted me to do that, but that was not where I wanted my life to end. I wanted to save lives. I wanted to work in a hospital, where my actions would actually matter, instead of worrying about changing the menu of a restaurant for the sixth time or worry about some sort of health code violation.

Yale was my ticket out of that life. And now that I had Mr Bernard’s contact information, I was going to make sure I got in.

I returned to the table to find Valentina anxiously staring at my phone. I waved the card in her face triumphantly, but she didn’t look impressed as she said, “I think you should call your dad back.”

“What?” I asked confusedly.

“He called six times,” she said, handing me my phone. “And when I answered, I got the feeling that something is off.”

My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach as she said that. I immediately grabbed the phone and called him back, my heart racing. A million things flew all around my head, and I imagined he’d suffered another stroke. The last time he had one, I was in Missouri with Valentina and her brother, and if it wasn’t for the doorman finding him at the elevator, who knows what would have happened?

I couldn’t lose him too. Not now, not ever.

“Hello?” I said as soon as the call was answered, relief flooding through my veins at the sound of my dad’s voice. But that relief immediately vanished when I heard his voice.

“M’hija,” he said softly, his voice shaking. “Where are you?”

“Dad, what’s going on?” I asked. “What happened?”

“I need you to come home,” he said, and it sounded like he was in pain as he said that. I could tell that he’d been crying, and I didn’t want to know what was the reason behind his tears.

“I’m on my way,” I said, already rising from my seat and dropping my card in Valentina’s hand. She was staring up at me expectantly, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I was already grabbing my purse, tears swimming in my eyes as I mumbled something about calling her before I fled from the restaurant.

I couldn’t sit still all through the ride home. I kept fidgeting in my seat, imagining the worst possible scenario. Dad must have tripped over the stairs again, and nobody was coming to help. Maybe he’d injured himself cooking, and he needed my help treating his injuries.

But if that was the case, then why didn’t he call for an ambulance? Why did he call me?

By the time we got back to the apartment, I was shaking all over. I leapt out of the car as soon as it stopped, and I rushed inside expecting to find Tony sitting at his post, probably telling me that he’d already called an ambulance. But Tony was nowhere to be seen. That was strange, since he never left his post for anything except an emergency. Dread and terror wrapped around me like a heavy cloak, and I couldn’t breathe as I ran to the elevator and punched in our code.

The second sign that something was off was that the front door was wide open. Dad never left the door open for anything. I rushed inside without thinking, already calling for him as I stepped into the apartment.

That was when I saw the blood.

And Tony’s mangled corpse lying in front of me.

I wanted to scream, but powerful hands suddenly wrapped over my mouth, silencing the scream that ripped through my throat. My heart was about to explode from my chest, and my eyes were the size of saucers as I kicked and flailed about, desperately trying to get away from the large man who was holding me.

“M’hija,” dad’s voice suddenly came, and I stopped struggling for a split second to see him kneeling in the middle of the room, soaked in blood and crying like a little child. In front of him were four men, with three of them standing around the one who appeared to be the ringleader. He was a large and terrifying man, and he could have been considered handsome if it wasn’t for the ugly slash across his face, right over his left eye. He was wearing a crisp black suit, and he looked like he was just coming from a Wall Street business meeting.

Except for the fact that there was a dead body in our home, and my dad was on his knees in front of him.

“Restrain your daughter,” the man said, waving a gun in my dad’s face. “Or the next bullet is going in her skull.”

“Sofia, please stop fighting,” dad said. “Everything is going to be alright. Just-just calm down please.”

I stopped struggling as he said that, even though I knew nothing was going to be alright. I needed an explanation. I needed to go to him, and find out what exactly happened here.

“Release her,” the man with the scar said, and the burly man who’d lifted me off my feet slowly let me down. As soon as he did, I rushed over to my dad, kneeling beside him and checking to see how hurt he was.

“D-dad, what’s going on?” I asked, my voice shaking. “W-who are these people? What are they doing in our house?”

“Hello, Sofia,” the scarred man said, leaning forward before my dad could say anything. “We’re business associates of your dad. Forgive our manners for not introducing ourselves.”

Dad was shaking as he said this, and the tears in his eyes shattered my soul into a million pieces. I felt like I was witnessing some sort of horrific play, and everyone was about to tell me the truth. The curtains would be pulled back, and I would realize that I wasn’t even in our apartment as I thought I was.

“The name is Marco Giordano,” the man said, offering me his hand which I refused to take. He regarded me coldly, like I’d just insulted him in some way by not shaking his hand. But he shrugged it off, leaning back into his seat and smiling to himself. The other men were smirking wickedly as they stared at me, and something about the way they looked caused me to wrap my arms even tighter around my dad. I needed to protect him from them somehow. Though I didn’t know how I was going to do that.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” the man named Marco said. “You see, your father and I have been in business for about twenty five years. Naturally, that means I see him as family. And when someone considers you family, you do everything you can to maintain that relationship and not screw them over. I gave Lorenzo here everything he could ever ask for. I turned a blind eye when he started skimming money off my business, because it was an insignificant amount. I’m a kind man, and I understand when someone is desperate. I’ve also been desperate at times. And I would go to any length to climb out of that hellhole. But then, your father got greedy. And he bit off more than he can chew.”

I stared at my dad in disbelief, who kept his head bowed as hot tears streaked down his cheeks. I was also crying, and there was a lump forming in my throat as I desperately waited for my dad to say that he was lying. But he couldn’t even bring himself to look at me.

And I knew in that moment that the man I thought was my father, was nothing like I’d imagined him to be.

“A few thousand dollars is nothing,” Marco said. “A hundred thousand? Maybe I will start to ask a few questions. But eight million dollars? I’m not that forgiving.”

“Dad, please tell me it’s not true,” I said, turning to face him. “Tell me he’s lying.”

“Go ahead,” Marco chuckled. “You’re the one who begged to tell your daughter the truth. Tell her the truth, Lorenzo. Tell her how you’ve been cleaning my money through your restaurants, while skimming off a few thousand dollars in each one for yourself. Tell her how you built this new life for both of you with my money. And tell her how you stole from me without fear of retribution.”

Dad looked up slowly, his eyes bloodshot and snot pouring from his nose as he said, “I’m so sorry, m’hija. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t…”

He couldn’t say anything else, and I stared down at my hands in disbelief. My own father, the man I’d looked up to my entire life, was somehow involved with the mafia. And I couldn’t believe that he would ever do something like this.

“Let me tell you a story,” Marco said. “When I was a boy, my dad bought a golden retriever for me on my tenth birthday. I loved that dog to pieces. We called her Perdita, and she would run around in our backyard with the little bell I’d made tied around her neck. At night, she would crawl into my bed and sleep right beside me. And everywhere I went, Perdita was always attached to me at the hip. And then one day, while we were out on a walk, she stupidly went chasing after a squirrel. Her leash was still in my hand, and she yanked me into the street and caused me to fall. I cut my face on an old pipe which was lying exposed on the floor, and that’s how I got this scar. And Perdita, silly as she was, didn’t even care? She never stopped chasing the squirrel. And that was when I realized that I was the only one who cared about her. In her stupid little brain, I was simply a means to an end. I was the stupid little boy who kept her fed, washed and dried. I gave her a place to sleep, and that was all I would ever be.”

He leaned forward slowly, and the shadow across his face deepened as he tilted his head to the side and asked, “What do you think I did to Perdita?”

My gaze shifted to the gun in his lap, and I already knew the answer to the question. I felt it in my gut, and the way he spoke so calmly. I’d known the answer even before the question was asked, and I must have realized it the moment I walked into the apartment.

“I can forgive a lot, Miss Moretti,” he said. “I forgave Perdita for this scar. But when a dog goes wild and loses all respect for you, then there’s only one thing left to do.”

I saw the moment he lifted the gun. I saw the way his finger wrapped around the trigger, and the way he took aim at my dad’s head. I knew my dad was saying something to me, desperately clutching at my arms as he spoke in a panicked state. But I didn’t feel like I was in my body anymore. Instead, I was floating somewhere above all of this mess, staring down at the scene in disbelief. I wasn’t here anymore. I was just watching everything unfold in front of me. In a minute, everything would be back to normal. In a minute, none of this would matter.

I never heard the moment he pulled the trigger.