4.

Angelica

I thought of many ways to escape this nightmare, but they all end with blood in my mouth and Nicolas’s hand around my throat. Or worse, with me standing at an altar beside a man I don’t know.

Of all the times I wished I were Nadine, this is the only time I badly needed it to be true so I could escape this fate, just like she did.

"...gelica? Are you with us?" A female voice from my screen pulls me out of my thoughts. I refocus on my laptop, blinking, embarrassed at being caught spacing out.

"Yes, I am," I stutter, clearing my throat.

My lecturer on the screen narrows her eyes, and I press my lips together, mouthing an apology even though she can't see me. She carries on with her lecture and I shove all my thoughts about my upcoming nuptials to the back of my mind.

Nicolas thought it beneath him to keep me uneducated, so I attend college, but from the comfort of my bedroom. And in exchange for my tuition fees, I'm not allowed to fail. If I do, I get beaten and it'll be added to my bill; money I owe him for taking care of me thus far.

As the lecture progresses, I fight to keep my focus trained on what is being said and away from my thoughts, right until the lecturer ends the lesson.

I let out a heavy sigh, about to turn off my laptop when a text comes in through my messaging app. A small smile appears on my lips at the sender, Alex.

'Are you okay?' The text reads.

'Yeah'

'You sure? Seems like you weren't with us today.'

I press my lips together, speechless.

Alex is the class representative, who took it upon himself to offer me live versions of our lectures, and also tutor me. He would call me through video chat and I'd attend the lecture.

He's the only friend I have, though even calling him that is a stretch seeing as he doesn’t know much about me. But he’s a nice person, always checking up on me and making sure I turn in my assignments on time.

Over time I grew dependent on him.

On countless occasions, I've wanted to confide in him about my troubles, but the fear of being watched by Nicolas never let me.

Alex only knew I was sick and nothing else. I couldn’t tell him more.

'Cramps,’ I type. The lie sits heavy in my chest, and I want to delete it and confide in him, tell him the truth, but I hold back.

Three dots appear, disappear, and appear again before the text comes.

‘You know you can tell me if something’s wrong. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.’

My fingers freeze over the keyboard as I stare at the words, because I do.

I absolutely do.

I turn off my laptop, and collapse on my bed, staring at the brown ceiling as my mind returns to my peculiar situation.

I can’t get married to anyone Nicolas chooses, especially not now, not when I haven’t done anything on my list. It's like getting shackled with chains two times thicker than the ones I'm currently tied to.

I sit up, my palms gripping my duvet.

"This won't do," I vocalize, my eyes stinging with tears I don't let fall.

My list will be useless if I get married, because though I don't know much about the mafia, I can tell I'll have more restrictions than I do here.

If there's no way to pass over this marriage, then I won't be here to get married, no matter what it costs me.

~~~

"Your dress," Esmeralda says, handing a white shopping bag to me. I take it, biting on my lower lip in frustration before shutting the door.

It's been four days since Nicolas's announcement at breakfast, and though I resolved to run away much quicker than I'm supposed to, no plans have been made. Instead, it seems with each day that passes, I'm being handed over to the D'amatos.

Today, we'll be heading out for the burial ceremony of Celia D'amato, and despite my pleas not to go, the dress in the bag reminds me that it's not my decision to make.

Taking the black dress out of the bag, I contemplate destroying it, just a little to make it unwearable, but I decide against it because Nicolas will get another dress for me, and I'll suffer for it.

I sit in front of my vanity, grabbing my spray bottle and a hair brush. I spray my thick afro until it's damp before applying two layers of gel on it. I'm not doing any makeup because not only do I not possess the skill, I also lack the products. Styling my hair is the only 'make-up' I can afford.

Almost thirty minutes later, Joey comes to get me. He offers me his arm as we walk down the stairs because the pair of heels Nicolas got me is higher than anything I've worn before.

I also notice my dress is more extravagant than Nadine's. It hugs my frame perfectly, showing off just enough to be classy.

"I don't believe I have to go over your behavior today," Nicolas says we get into his car, his eyes meeting mine through the rear-view mirror. I nod.

"None of that stupid shit that happened last time, you hear me?" He narrows his deep brown eyes. "You can’t afford to make any mistakes,” he says quietly, and somehow, that’s worse than shouting.

"Yes father," I say with yet another nod.

"Yes father," Junior mimics and Nadine chuckles.

I take in a deep breath, looking outside the window, at the grey sky, wondering how much longer it will take to get to the cemetery.

I rub my clammy hands on my dress, ignoring Junior who keeps pinching and poking me as I can't afford to reprimand him.

When our car finally comes to a stop at the cemetery, I'm the first one out and Nicolas gives me a stern look for it, before walking away to where a few people are already gathered, all dressed in black.

Sarah, Nadine, Junior and I don't follow Nicolas; instead, we find a spot where we watch the entire ceremony, and at some point, Sarah walks away with Junior to a group of women, while Nadine disappears to only God knows where, leaving me standing there with no familiar face in sight.

I do the only thing an ostrich would do in this situation, I bury my head in the ground, ensuring I don't make eye contact with anyone.

"This is truly sad," a woman says from beside me, "I think he's cursed."

"I think so too. It's only been a year since his wife and child died, and now he has to bury his mother," another lady says, piquing my attention, so I raise my head to them.

Though they're dressed in black, they don't sound like members of the D'amato family.

"That's rich people for you. Maybe he's involved with some dubious things," the first lady says, and pulls at a string around her neck, revealing her media tag.

There's no doubt the man in question is Marciano D'amato. There's nothing I've heard about him that doesn't make my knees weaken, and further strengthen my resolve to escape this marriage.

I can't possibly get married to a man like him.

As if on cue, the immediate family members appear, holding on to the coffin, and right in front of them is the man I'm set to marry.

He's tall, really tall, with muscle-filled arms and chest. And from where I'm standing, I can see that his face is set in a deep frown.

He looks around the crowd, as if taking us into memory, or searching for something he hasn’t found yet. I notice he looks much different in the light than he did in the dark. There’s a well-groomed stubble on his face, though his scar shines through. His eyes hold way more darkness than I remember from that night, and that sends a shiver down my spine.

However, just as he’s about to look away from the crowd, his eyes meet mine. It’s just for a second, but his gaze sharpens, locking onto mine like he’s placing me somewhere in his memory.

Recognition flickers and disappears just as fast.

My stomach drops because I know that look. He remembers me from five nights ago.

He turns away, focusing on the task before him, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him, watching every movement while wondering how I’m supposed to escape this marriage to him.

I watch as the D’amatos set the coffin down and step away, all except Marciano, who is staring down at it as though he's waiting for some miracle.

Suddenly, he goes down on one knee, pulls out a pendant from his shirt, and whispers to it with one hand on the coffin. The entire cemetery goes quiet, watching him.

He remains in that position for a while, then he stands and walks away without a word to anyone else.

Marciano doesn't return for the rest of the funeral. I know this because I keep looking around, searching for him, waiting to see if his tall figure will return to watch the coffin go into the ground, or even to throw the first dirt.

He doesn't.

And I don't know why, but something tugs at my chest for him—sharp and unfamiliar. Maybe it’s because for a moment he didn’t look like the monster everyone described.

He looked human. And that unsettles me more than any rumor did.

The funeral ends and I see Nicolas and his family talking to some others as they walk. I don’t join them but I walk as fast as my shoes will let me, to catch up to them, only to get blamed for separating from the rest of the family when I did nothing of the sort. I don't argue or try to defend myself, because I know better than to challenge him.

We all get into the car and as Nicolas drives, I'm so lost in thought that I don't realize he's spoken to me until Junior pokes my side.

"I'm sorry," I apologize immediately, running my palms on my dress.

"Ugh, she's so annoying," Nadine says under her breath, but I catch it. Though it seems as though it was intended for me to hear.

"Your wedding date has been set," Nicholas announces. Everything around me dulls instantly, like the world is receding, and I choke on my breath as dread takes over my entire body. "It's in three weeks."

Three weeks.

Twenty-one days.

That’s how long I have left to save myself or I lose everything.