Vows of Ruin: Til vengeance do us part

CARMELA’S POV

Everyone thinks grief has made me fragile. I see them stare at me, pity in their eyes and their hushed whispers about my sister's death. Papa looks at me like I might kill myself the next day.

Perfect. Let them think that way.

Because while they've been pitying me, I've been planning. Gabriele Conti killed Elena–maybe not with his hands, but she died under his care. As the wife of the Don. How ironic.

And now I'm going to make him pay. I'm not going to kill him. It's too merciful. I'm going to marry him. Destroy him directly from inside. Make him trust me, need me, love me maybe. 

And then I'm going to ruin everything he has built.

I knelt at Elena's grave, the marble cold even through my dress. Six months, and the flowers people left had long since died. Like her. Like everything she touched in that world.

"He couldn't protect you." My voice cracked on the words. "One job, Elena. He had one fucking job as Don, and you're dead."

The rage was better than the grief. Cleaner. Sharper. 

I traced her name on the headstone—Elena Ferrara Conti. She'd been so proud to take his name. So sure he'd keep her safe.

"I'll avenge you," I whispered. "I promise. But not with a bullet. He doesn't get a quick death. I'm going to marry him, Lena. I'm going to become everything you were to him. And then I'm going to destroy him from the inside."

The wind picked up, scattering dead leaves across her grave.

I liked to think it was her, giving me permission.

****

I walked through the mansion to my father's wing. My father, Giovanni Ferrara was the consigliere of the Famiglia–La Famiglia Conti. He's been working for the Famiglia right from his youthful age and he climbed his way to become consigliere.

That's why I have to use him. He's the perfect choice. The Don always listens to his consigliere.

I knocked on my father's door, waiting for him to let me in. I remember when I used to be scared to enter his study. I'd hover outside the door for ten minutes trying to get myself together before knocking, but now, I walked in like I owned the place. 

Revenge was a fucking confidence booster.

“Come in.” Papa's baritone voice echoed through the door.

I stepped into his study—all dark and filled with the smell of cigars—and sat across his desk. He shoved aside the papers that littered his desk—probably Famiglia matters—and looked at me.

“How's the Famiglia? Don Gabriele? I heard the Russians are making moves already.”

Papa sighed, exhaustion coming through his voice. “We have eyes monitoring them. Gabriele won't let them out of his sight.”

“Gabriele’s been unstable since Elena’s death. The Russians know that's why they chose now of all times to attack.”

“I'm aware. What are you suggesting?”

Papa always included me in his plans. He always wanted to hear my views on matters and what better time than to use that to my advantage.

I took a deep breath. This is it.

“Marriage. Between our families. To strengthen the Famiglia.”

Papa was too smart not to follow where this was going. Realization spread across his face.

“You want to marry Gabriele.”

“I want to strengthen the Famiglia. If we show the Russians that we're stable, they'll back down. It's logical.”

“Logical.” He was watching me too carefully.

“And this has nothing to do with your sister.”

“Elena's death was a tragedy. Gabriele has mourned her enough. It's time to be practical. It's time to let go of personal feelings and strengthen the Famiglia.”

My stomach churned at the lie. Saying those words felt like acid on my tongue. It burned and tasted bitter.

Papa leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. The gesture that meant he was dissecting every word I'd said.

"You've thought this through."

"Of course."

"The Russians. The timing." He nodded slowly. "It sounds like a strategy."

"It's how you trained me, father."

"Which is what worries me." His knowing eyes pinned me in place. "My daughter, who cried for three days straight when Elena died, is now calmly proposing a strategic marriage to her widower. You'll forgive me if I find that... calculated."

My pulse jumped. Stay calm. He's testing you.

"You raised me to think strategically. You always said emotions can't interfere with family business."

"I also taught you that the best lies contain truth." He stood, walked to the window.

I could see the wheels in his brain turning, trying to find a loophole and reject my proposal. He won't find any because he knows it's what we need. 

He said slowly. “If I propose this to Gabriele and he agrees, you understand what you're committing to? Marriage in the Famiglia is binding. You can't walk away till—”

“Till death. I know.” I looked him straight in the eye, letting him see my resolve.

“I'll speak to him.” He finally says. “ But remember, cara, Gabriele Conti is not a man to play games with.”

As I walked out the door, my mind went back to what Elena had said when we were younger.

She used to braid my hair in this study while Papa worked. 

"One day, you'll be the one giving Papa advice," she'd whispered. "You're smarter than all of us combined, Car."

If she could see me now, using that intelligence to manipulate our father into arranging my marriage to her killer.

Would she be proud? Or horrified?

I pushed the thought away. It didn't matter. She was dead, and someone had to pay.

I'm not playing games. I'm playing chess, Papa, and you're one of my pawns.

As I walked back through the mansion, his words echoed in my mind. You can't walk away till death.

He was right about that.

 I won't be the one dying in this case.

Looking out the window, I saw the Conti estate, it's light brightening the night.

Soon this will be my cage. Or his.