CHAPTER 02

𝐏𝐎𝐕 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀

The breakfast conversation replayed in my head without pause. Every word my father had spoken. Every look he avoided. Every gesture, calculated down to the smallest detail. It had all been so… deliberate. As if he had rehearsed that scene for years and the day had finally come to say it out loud.

Eighteen years.

Useless phase.

Investment.

Return.

I took a deep breath and got up from the bed, pacing back and forth.

The room felt smaller. The air is heavier. Everything in it had been chosen by him: the furniture, the colors, even the size of the bed. Nothing there truly belonged to me.

Not even me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my hands together.

I knew that world. I grew up watching how everything worked. Likewise, I had seen girls promised before they even understood what it meant. I had seen women disappear overnight, explained away with vague excuses and forced smiles. I had seen marriages seal deals. Not only that, but I had seen wars avoided at tables where women were never allowed to sit.

I knew.

And yet, something inside me refused to accept it.

Maybe it would be different for me.

Maybe my father would reconsider.

Maybe he wouldn’t go… this far.

I stood again, too restless to stay still. My heart pounded hard and fast.

“Staying here overthinking won’t change anything,” I murmured to myself. “If there’s even the smallest chance to change my fate, I have to try. Now.”

I smoothed my hands over the blue dress, took another deep breath, and opened my bedroom door. The hallway was silent, as always. But in that house, silence never meant peace.

I went down the stairs slowly, each step feeling like I was walking toward a trial.

My father was in his office.

I reached the corridor of forbidden doors. It was slightly ajar. I stopped there for a few seconds. My heart is racing. My hands are cold.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

No… I can’t.

I thought about turning back. Pretending nothing had happened. Accepting it. But something inside me refused to stay silent.

Before I could change my mind, I knocked twice on the door.

Now, there was no going back.

“Come in,” his voice came firm, impatient.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind me.

The office smelled of leather and cigars. Everything was dark, heavy, and solid. My father sat behind the desk, reading some papers. He didn’t even look up when I approached.

“What is it?” he asked, dry.

I swallowed.

“I… wanted to talk to you.”

He set the papers down slowly and lifted his head. Finally, he looked at me. There was no curiosity. No surprise.

“Speak.”

I took a deep breath.

“About earlier,” I began, my voice steady despite the fear. “About what you said at breakfast.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is,” I insisted. “I know how things work here. I grew up watching it. But maybe… maybe it doesn’t have to be this way. Not with me.”

His gaze hardened.

“You think you’re different?”

“I’m your daughter,” I replied, almost in a whisper.

He let out a short, cold laugh.

“Exactly.”

The word hit me like a punch.

“Dad…” I took a step forward. “I can study. Work. Help the family in other ways. I can—”

“No,” he cut me off, raising a hand. “You can’t do a damn thing.”

He stood up calmly and walked toward me. My body reacted before my mind, and I stepped back. I was afraid. Terrified. But I couldn’t stop now.

Riccardo Moretti never needed to raise his voice to command respect. His presence alone did that.

“I refuse to believe I raised such a stupid daughter,” he said evenly. “You still don’t get it? In this world, no one does what they want. Everyone does what they must.”

“I know,” I replied quickly. “I know how the mafia works. Rules. Deals. Hierarchy. But—”

“But nothing,” he interrupted again. “Everything has a price.”

The words hung in the air.

“People aren’t things,” I said, my throat tightening.

He stared at me for a few seconds. Then replied, slowly:

“They are. People are assets. Resources. Tools. Depending on their value.”

“And me?” I asked. “What am I?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“A business deal.”

The word landed too heavily.

“A good one,” he corrected. “Well taken care of. Well presented. At the right time. Rare. Valuable.”

My stomach twisted.

“You talk about me as if I weren’t—” I stopped, unable to finish.

“As if you weren’t what?” he asked. “My daughter?”

I nodded.

“You were raised for this,” he said. “From the day you were born.”

“And my will?” I pressed. “Doesn’t that matter?”

He looked at me as if I were a child asking a foolish question.

“Free will is a luxury,” he replied. “A luxury that doesn’t exist in our world.”

“And my mother?” I dared. “Did she agree to this?”

“Your mother knows her place,” he said coldly. “And you should learn yours.”

I closed my eyes for a second, struggling to breathe.

“I saw other girls,” I murmured. “I saw what happened to them. I thought… maybe with me it would be different.”

He took another step toward me.

“That was your mistake,” he said. “Thinking.”

“So it’s all settled?” I asked. “Already decided?”

He nodded.

“The deal is done.”

“When?”

“Before you even turned eighteen.”

The air left my lungs.

“So…” I swallowed hard. “My fate has already been paid for?”

“Yes.”

“With what?”

“Power. Protection. Alliances,” he answered. “What keeps this family standing?”

That was when I understood.

There was no discussion.

There was no choice.

I was already part of the payment.

“You will obey,” he concluded. “Because that’s how things work. And because you know there is no alternative.”

I said nothing.

He returned behind the desk and picked up the papers again.

“You may go,” he said. “Prepare yourself for tonight.”

I left the office without looking back.

I climbed the stairs slowly, feeling something break inside me with every step.

When I entered my room, I closed the door and leaned against it.

This time, I cried.

Not because I still had hope.

But because I finally understood.

In that house, I was never a daughter.

I was raised to be currency.

And now, it was time for the exchange.