2. Lucia

He walks over to Badessa’s desk and sits down. “Please, have a seat, Principessa.”

“You keep calling me that,” I say as I lower down into the chair next to him. “It’s too much of an intimate nickname and I don’t know you, Signor.”

Leaning back in the chair, he chuckles again and sighs. “Ah, Alberto would be proud,” he says, lacing his fingers together over his stomach. “You look like Catalina and have her fire, even as you look timid.”

“You keep saying that name but I have no idea-”

“Your mother was Catalina Moretti, wife of Alberto Moretti, a Camorra Underboss,” he says and I immediately jump out of my chair and take a step back from him. “Your name is Lucia Moretti and you’re their only daughter.”

I have heard of the Camorra; they’re a criminal organization that rules parts of Italy. Italian Mafia, to be exact. They’re ruthless…and apparently, I am borne of that blood. This is why he calls me Principessa… 

“W-what?” I stammer, shaking my head. “That can’t be! They left me on the steps-”

“On the steps? Is that what the nuns have been feeding you?” he interjects. “Your father left you here to keep you safe from his enemies. It was your mother’s dying wish to keep you protected and away from our life…until the time came.”

I swallow deeply at his words, too scared to know what he means by that. But he can see the question as if it’s etched on my face and offers me another one of his smiles. 

“Until the time comes when your father’s oath to the Cosa Nostra comes into effect,” he starts. “You’re betrothed to Giovanni Vittori as a way to end the bloody war between our families and in three years, he will claim you as his wife.”

Still shaking my head as if the act will push away the glaring truth in front of me, but he continues. “We tasked the sisters here to teach you everything you need to know about being a good Mafia wife. How to cook, clean, and be obedient, amongst other things. Haven’t you ever wondered why?”

“It’s a lie! It has to be!” I say, defiant tears slipping down my cheeks. “There’s no way… I can’t be a Mafia Princess!”

But even as I say these words, what he has just mentioned breaks any wall of lies. They did, in fact, teach me all those things and warned me about speaking when spoken to, not speaking out of turn, and always having food ready on time. My eyes widen as I realize why they never taught me anything Sicilian… but Italian instead.

“Who… Who is Giovanni Vittori?” I ask as I wipe my tears away. “And who are you?”

The man, who hasn’t even introduced himself to me yet, gets up from the chair and pulls a handkerchief from his top coat pocket. 

“My name is Vito and I am your father’s closest friend; his second in command, if you will,” he says, handing the handkerchief to me. “Giovanni is the eldest son of the Cosa Nostra Capo Dei Capi, Emilio Vittori.”

The son of a Mafia Don. I am betrothed to the eldest son of a Mafia Don. No wonder my family left me here, it wasn’t for my safety but to train me to be a good wife and remain pure for my husband. 

I suck in a deep breath and try to remain calm. “And I am to leave when I turn 21, to be married to Giovanni Vittori?”

The man, Vito, nods. “Yes. If you do not believe me, I have left a crate of your mother and father’s belongings in your bedroom.”

I can’t help but scoff at him, and this entirely absurd thing. “Why couldn’t my father come here to tell me this himself? Why send his right-hand man to deliver this blow?”

A pained look crosses his face and, he breathes out a long sigh. “Your father made me promise to do this before he disappeared a few years ago. No one has seen him since, but he was adamant this arrangement with Franco remains in place.”

My eyes widen. “Disappeared? What do you mean? He’s just gone?”

Vito nods. “He is, and I have since taken over as Underboss in his stead, but that is all I am permitted to say,” he says and he takes a step back from me. “I’ll be back here the night before your twenty-first birthday with the gift your mother left for you. But the following day you are to leave with Giovanni.”

“Do I have a choice in this?” I ask, knowing the outcome already.

Vito’s lips are a thin line when he shakes his head. “A ring on your finger or a bullet in your head, Principessa.”

That’s how it is, then. If I refuse, I die, and from what I have learned about myself in these last few minutes is that I don’t want to die. Even if I have to marry this man… from one prison to the next.

“I understand,” I say, because what else was there to say? This man has just shattered the life I knew and given it a bigger purpose. A purpose put in place for me before I was even born, a purpose I did not want. 

With a kiss placed on my forehead and a small key put in my hand, Vito leaves and I rush up to my bedroom to wallow in peace. But even that is taken from me when I see the crate on my bed, just as he said it would be.

I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand and walk towards my bed to have even more of me stripped away. It’s wooden and the size of a shoebox with a small padlock on it; I realize then that’s what the key is for.

Taking a deep breath, I draw my hand to the lock and open it, unsure of what I would find inside. My heart shatters into a thousand pieces when I see the picture on top; it’s a Polaroid picture of a woman who looks just like me.

Curvacious, full chest, dark hair, almond-shaped brown eyes, and tanned skin. She’s smiling with a hand placed on her swollen belly and behind her is a tall, handsome man kissing her cheek. They both look so happy and a tear slips down my cheek onto the picture when I read the writing below.

My Lucia, 7 months. 

Alberto and Catalina Moretti. These two are my parents and as I rifle through the other pictures and letters, I see how in love they were. You can’t fake the look in my father’s eyes as he gazes at her unaware in certain shots, and my heart is pounding as the reality of everything sets in.

They’re my parents; my parents, who are part of the Mafia and who promised me to the eldest son of their enemies in hopes of stopping a war. They bartered my life as if I were nothing but a chess piece and now I will never get to meet them because my mother is dead and my father is missing.

Instead of sadness taking over my heart, it is anger.

I rush towards the kitchen to find Nonna Lola and when I burst into the room, she looks at me with that same sad look in her eyes.

“You knew,” I whisper, shaking my head as a cold wave of betrayal washes over me. “All this time you knew!”

Nonna Lola’s tears stream down her face as she slowly nods. “They made you teach me to cook…so I can be a perfect wife to a terrible man!”

“Lucia-”

“No!” I exclaim, crumbling to the floor and shaking my head. “No, everyone has lied to me! It's no wonder they all look at me like that; I have the blood of murderers and rapists running through my veins!”

Even as I reject her, she gets down on her knees and embraces me. Her familiar vanilla scent feels like home as I break down in her arms. “They all lied to me, Nonna…”

She strokes my hair. “I am sorry, Tesoro, but they made me promise,” she says as I feel her tears on my arms. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do it with my family’s life in their hands.”

I turn my head. “They threatened you and your family?” I ask and when she nods again, fresh tears spring into my eyes. “Oh, Nonna!”

“I just wanted you to feel loved, even as I knew where your life would lead. You became like my own, and I have loved you since. Please don’t forget that,” she says, trying to console me as I stay wrapped in her arms. 

“Please let this year be different.” The wish I have made since I turned ten years old has finally come true.