Chapter 3

Before the kidnappers could get a word in, my father cut them off.

"Julia, I don't care how many times you call or how many lies you tell to distract your mother and me from this. I'm telling you now: even if you've really been kidnapped, neither of us is doing anything about it today!"

My mother snatched the phone from him, impatience written all over her face.

"Julia, your father is right. If you won't come to Isa's birthday, fine. But don't interrupt us while we're celebrating her birthday.

"Don't call us again! Or your father and I will pretend you were never our daughter!"

Then she hung up.

After that, the phone stayed silent.

Nobody called again.

My parents finally relaxed.

I watched it happen.

Pain rolled through my chest in waves.

I had known it was coming. I should have been past the point where it could hurt me.

My sister came over, worry written all over her face. "Was that Julia? She isn't the kind of person who throws tantrums. Something must really be wrong."

My father answered with complete certainty. "Nothing's wrong. Your sister loves making a fuss. Leave her be. Today is your birthday. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it tomorrow."

The family sat back down at the table. They relit the candles, their glow flickering over Isa's pale face.

She stared into the flames, her nails digging into her palms. In the end, she said nothing else.

My mother picked up the knife again, smiled, and cut Isa a slice.

"Here. Try the raspberry layer. It's your favorite."

My father raised his glass too, and after some effort, the mood lifted a little.

The doorbell rang.

Isa shot to her feet as if she'd been burned and rushed to the door.

It wasn't me.

It was my uncle.

He wore a trench coat and carried an elegantly wrapped box, a doting smile on his face.

The smile froze the second he looked around the room.

"Where's Julia?"

He handed Isa the present, but kept his eyes on the empty staircase.

"Whenever I come over, that girl is the first to run out and cling to my neck like a cub."

The room went still for a moment.

My mother set down the cake knife and forced a smile.

"Julia... she pretended to be kidnapped."

My uncle frowned. "She what?"

"She's jealous of Isa and pulled a childish stunt to get our attention. We refused to indulge her."

His face darkened instantly.

He turned on my father, his voice rising.

"Not a chance! I know that girl.

"She's always been proud. No matter how badly she was hurting, she would never stoop to a cheap stunt like that just to get attention!"

He grabbed a fistful of my father's collar, his eyes bloodshot.

"Did she give you an address? Where's the phone? I'm going to find her now."

He grabbed the phone. It rang three times before someone answered.

His face lit up, and he blurted, "Julia, it's your uncle..."

The next second, my father ended the call.

"Roberto, I know Julia's your favorite, but today is Isa's birthday."

"She's about to..."

"They're both your nieces. Are you sure you want to play favorites like this?"

My uncle looked at Isa and said nothing.

He put the phone down.

That night, every light in the house stayed on until morning.

They waited from first light until the sun was high, but I never came.

"So she's determined to defy us." My mother finally snapped. "She won't even show her face to see her sister off to be married. She's cold-blooded."

They set out still seething with resentment toward me. That resentment lasted until the Cammarata guards carried out a stretcher.

"We didn't keep our end of the deal."

A heavyset Cammarata man stepped out of the shadows and spoke as if the news barely mattered.

"My men did it. I didn't authorize it.

"Your daughter died on my territory, so as compensation, the marriage is off."

The man blew a smoke ring.

"You have my word: ten years without a shot fired. You're not losing out on this deal."

My mother staggered back a step, staring at the white sheet as a broken sound rose from her throat.

My uncle charged forward like a madman and ripped back the sheet.