I Was Their American Dream

On the night of my engagement party, Luca Moretti walked his childhood sweetheart over to me. "Clara accidentally stained her dress," he said. "Let her borrow yours for a while." He added, "Everyone knows you're the main character tonight. It doesn't matter what you wear." I didn't bother objecting. The gown was already on her. I stood behind the half-closed back door in a borrowed black dress while his men laughed over their whiskey. "Luca, is your real fiancee going to lose it?" someone asked. Luca barely looked up from his glass. "Anna is going to be a Donna. She needs to learn grace." Another man snorted. "Besides, she's an orphan. Where's she gonna go without you?" Luca smiled. "She can't leave me." They didn't know I had never been an orphan. I had buried the Valenti name for five years because I wanted Luca to love me as Anna, not as the Valenti daughter. My father is the Mafia Chairman, the man every family answered to when the highest table met. That night, I took off the Moretti emerald ring, left it beside the guest book, and called home. "Papa, I’m not marrying Luca. Don't come to Chicago."

For four years I was his secretary, and for four years I warmed his bed. I knew everything, from his family business to the secrets he whispered to me at night. But to him, I was nothing more than a toy he could summon whenever he pleased. The moment his first love, Sofia Costa, flew back into the country, he humiliated me without a second thought. He kissed her in a Sicilian church, abandoned me on a rain-soaked road with a gash ten inches long on my calf, and later dismissed me with a cold, cutting line. He said I was someone unimportant, someone he could simply ignore. She waved the tulip plush he'd given her in front of me. "I'm the only one he loves. You were just a stand-in." While I rebuilt my life in Chicago and finally found some peace, this ruthless Mafia don knelt outside my door, eyes red with emotion. "Elena, come back to me." I kicked his hand away with a smile. "Your so-called devotion disgusts me."

When I was seven, my mother, a pianist, died of cancer. During her last moments, she held my hand. “Naomi, we both share a passion for the piano. When you grow up, you must stand on the world stage and play for me someday.” Since then, performing on the stage in Vinna had been a lifelong dream of mine. From the age of seven, I trained long and hard, practicing more than six hours a day until my fingers and wrists were bruised. At last, I gained recognition and earned a chance to audition for a spot in a top orchestra at twenty-one. If I succeeded, I would perform at Vinna’s New Year’s Concert the following week. However, my father brought home a sister, only six months younger than me. She became the apple of my father’s eye, and my piano room was turned into her dance studio. My brothers adored her, always personally making sure she got to school and came home safe and sound. Even my boyfriend, whom I had known all my childhood, was dazzled by her smile. His eyes often stuck on her. On the day of my audition, he ditched me on an overpass just to take her to her dance class. “Naomi, all you’re missing out on is a chance to realize your dream, but Charlotte can’t be late. “Don’t be such a drama queen. I’ll take you once I drop her off.” As the car sped away, I calmly took out my phone and broke up with Maddox over text. My mother was right. Boys only got in the way of dreams.

When you are growing up adults usually tell you that you can be whatever you want to be, right?! I was told I would be a starving artist if I became what I wanted to be. I let their words become me. All their words. I let them dictate the person I became. I kept the real me to myself after so many years of their hatred for that person. I let little bits of my soul break away and die to keep their torment to a minimum. I learned to not rock the boat, just keep my head down and do as I was told. I was the party crasher on their life that never left. Until I shocked them when I did. Out on my own, I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was. I settled for the first “nice guy” to come along. That quickly fizzled out after a shotgun wedding. After a year alone I met Prince Charming #2 at a backyard BBQ. I didn’t know my jerk radar was still broken. Then out of nowhere, the one I had always thought was a jerk turned out to surprisingly be my Prince Charming. Being the man, I need in my life. He became everything I needed, and everything I didn’t know I wanted. Allowing me to grow and blossom as a person which inspires him to do the same. And we live happily ever after.

The day we moved into our new house and my adopted sister took my bedroom, I decided to leave. That morning, Mom posted the floor plan in our family group chat. There were three bedrooms. One for my parents. One for my older brother. And the largest, sunniest room was labeled Sophie’s Room. My name was nowhere on the plan. Ten years earlier, Sophie’s father had drowned while trying to save my brother. Since then, my family had treated every sacrifice as something I owed her. When I asked where I was supposed to sleep, Mom barely hesitated. “You’ll leave for graduate school soon. Giving you a bedroom would be a waste.” Then she turned back to Sophie and helped her choose pink curtains. My brother carried in her new furniture. My boyfriend of three years built her bookshelf. I sat on a moving box and finally understood. They had not forgotten me. They had decided that Sophie deserved my room, my family, and even the man who was supposed to love me. Since they had already decided there was no place for me in this family, I decided to leave them exactly what they wanted. I opened the classified research contract on my phone and signed it. Ten years. No visits home. In ten days, I would disappear from their lives for good.

The day I decided to marry the heir to one of the East Coast's wealthiest families, my ex-boyfriend Jack Harris showed up in my dream again. This time was different from all the others. He was on his knees in front of me, sobbing until his voice gave out. "Nora, I regret it." "Won't you come back to me?" The old me would have softened. But this time, I woke up and only wanted to laugh. For ten years I thought I dreamed of him because I couldn't let go, that I was pathetic for it. Then my best friend, a therapist, told me a colleague of hers had picked up a very strange client, a man who'd sold off everything he owned to learn a form of hypnosis that let him control people's dreams deeply. That man was Jack Harris. His wife was Vivian, the classmate who'd bullied me for years. The three of us had grown up together, childhood friends from the same small town. He'd tormented me for ten years, dumping me a different way in my dreams every single night, all to keep Vivian happy. And now he had me listening to his confessions in my dreams. It wasn't his conscience turning over. It was so I'd kill myself, so my heart could be transplanted into Vivian whole and undamaged. What he never imagined was that I'd found out everything ahead of time. This time, I was going to watch this rotten pair destroy themselves, one rotting away in his dreams, the other rotting in a hospital bed.