Chapter 1 - Angela

I was lying on the grass, reading with Alessia and Enrico. The sun and the scent of the garden flowers were far better than the cold walls of the library. My parents didn’t approve of me being out here with my siblings. At nineteen, I was already a woman and shouldn’t be wasting my time with teenagers. In fact, they said the same to Alessia, even though she was only sixteen.

In the mafia, you become a woman at eighteen, and I was expected to act like one, especially as the daughter of the Capo di tutti capi, the boss of all bosses. My father was above everyone in the Famiglia, and his family was supposed to set an example.

That’s how Lorenzo ended up dead at the hands of our own father, to serve as an example.

“When does the action start?” Enrico, who was only eight, complained as I narrated the story from the book.

“You know it’s a romance; there’s hardly any action here,” I murmured, looking at him and ruffling his brown hair.

Hurried footsteps crossed the gravel path before we could hear Mom’s grumbling as her heels sank into the grass.

“With or without action, you’ll have to drop the story,” Alessia said beside me, and I forced myself to take a closer look at our mother.

If she were just complaining about us lying on the grass, she would’ve sent one of the soldiers to drag us inside. But with her serious expression, tightly pressed lips, and hurried pace, it wasn’t good news.

“What happened, Mom?” I asked before she even reached us.

Her brown eyes, identical to mine, locked onto me, scanning me from head to toe as if she hadn’t seen me in a long time.

“We need to talk. Come on,” she said, extending her hand—not to help me up, just an automatic gesture of hers. “He’s waiting in the office.”

I turned, sitting up and holding the hem of my dress before standing, making sure it didn’t reveal anything it shouldn’t. After all, the house was surrounded by soldiers, and even though they were loyal to my father, they still had eyes.

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Enrico said immediately, running to cling to my legs.

“It’s not about that. Calm down,” Mom said, brushing her hand over his rosy cheek before grabbing my hand. “It’s just a talk.”

Even with her words, my stomach knotted. It was never just a talk, not with Giovanni Mancini. My father didn’t waste time with talks. When I reached the door of his office, I paused outside for a moment. My mother sighed beside me before placing her hand on the doorknob and pulling me along with her.

“Sit down, Angela,” he said bluntly. Seated behind his mahogany desk in a wide black leather armchair, surrounded by shelves of books and artwork he didn’t care about but were expensive enough to command admiration.

He looked up from his open laptop and fixed his blue eyes on me—the ones only Enrico had inherited. His gray hair and the lines on his fifty-year-old face should’ve made him seem fragile and old, but it was the opposite. My father looked as hard as a rock and threatening.

I sank into one of the chairs in front of him and clasped my hands in my lap. My mother sat beside me, her eyes fixed on her husband.

“The Bratva is getting stronger. They’ve allied with the Greeks and are trying to claim our territories. They’re growing bolder every day. We’re lucky to have so much prestige and to be at a truce with the Camorra and the 'Ndrangheta, but we can’t ignore the threat the Russians pose anymore.”

I nodded silently, still confused about why he had called me here for this, since, according to him, women had no business knowing about mafia affairs.

“It’s time, daughter. It’s time to fulfill your duty to the Famiglia,” my mother said beside me, catching me off guard, because that could only mean one thing: marriage.

“We need to put our rivalries aside and join forces if we want to fight the Russians,” I listened intently, knowing my fate was about to be sealed. “With that in mind, Morreti and I decided that a marriage would be the best way to forge this bond. Filippo, his eldest son and future Capo, and you, as my daughter, must fulfill your roles.”

Morreti was the boss of the 'Ndrangheta, and I knew exactly who his son was—a smug man, three years older than me, far from ready to take his father’s place but who loved to give orders and act like a Capo when no one else was around.

I only knew this because my cousin Vincenzo loved to share gossip, especially anything involving some twisted kind of love or something funny. He thought it would make me like our way of life more, this world full of monsters we lived in.

“I met with Morreti on Saturday, and his son was there. They’re eager for this union—Filippo, especially, to meet you officially.”

He had already met with them, a meeting that decided my future, and only now was he telling me. Of course, everything must have already been arranged. After all, no one expected the bride in question to argue. All mafia women were supposed to agree and smile—that’s what we were raised for.

My father’s piercing gaze hit me, signaling he expected a reaction. If I could truly express myself, I’d be screaming, laughing, or calling him insane, but I could only do what I was trained to do, like a little dog.

“When will the wedding be?” was the only thing I could say, the only thing that mattered to me at that moment.

My own father was throwing me straight into the arms of my future husband. The word “husband” might mean something different out there, but here in the mafia, it meant only one thing: possession.

“You’ll marry Filippo at the end of the month. We’ll give you this time to prepare. Everything will be arranged. You’ll be a good mafia wife, and when you meet him at the engagement party, you’ll behave like an obedient young woman.”

“Engagement party?” That was news. Why the need for a party if the wedding was in a month?

“Of course. It’s a great way to build ties between our families and give Filippo a chance to see what he’ll gain from the deal. We don’t want to disappoint him.”

I wanted to vomit at that, bile rising in my throat because I knew the “gain” he referred to was me. Me, who had never been kissed, who had never spent much time alone with a man, was now to be paraded before my future owner.

“When?” I cleared my throat, but the knot remained. “When is the engagement party?”

“This Saturday!”

Two days. Two days until my engagement to a man I’d never met. I nodded sadly, unable to do anything more.

I loved reading romances, and whenever the characters got married, I’d imagine what my own wedding would be like. But I could never dream of it—it wasn’t mine to dream about. I was born knowing that one day I’d have to marry for the Famiglia. And now, that time had come.