She Married The Mafia Heir I Married The Next Don Chapter 04
What I’m Owed
Maybe I should never have come back.
My mother lowers her hand.
“Mara. That isn’t what I meant.”
I look at her.
“You said it.”
“Because you’re asking us to hurt someone we love.”
The words land harder than she intends.
Or maybe exactly as hard.
Someone we love.
Behind her, Bianca wipes her face.
My mother looks back at her, then at me.
“None of us wanted this to happen. Bianca didn’t choose it any more than you did. She’s already left her home. What else do you want?”
I glance through the open door.
The fresh flowers.
The new furniture.
The life waiting for her with Alessandro Morello.
“Her home?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I’d like you to explain.”
My father steps down beside her.
“That’s enough.”
“She loses a bedroom and gets a house. I lose twenty-two years, and you tell me to move on.”
My mother closes her eyes.
“We’re trying.”
“For her.”
“For both of you.”
“Then why am I the only one who has to be grateful for whatever’s left?”
A car slows as it passes.
Across the street, someone has stopped beside a gate.
My father notices.
Of course he does.
“You’re making a scene.”
“I’m asking a question.”
“You’ve asked enough.”
He looks past me at his driver.
“Take her home.”
I turn.
Two of his men are already moving toward us.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Mara,” my father says, “get in the car.”
“I came here on my own.”
“And now you’re leaving with them.”
One man takes my arm.
I pull away, but the other steps closer.
They don’t hurt me.
They don’t need to.
My father’s face tells them everything they’re allowed to do.
“Until I say otherwise,” he adds, “she doesn’t leave the house.”
My mother looks as though she might object.
Then Bianca reaches for her hand.
I stop waiting.
I get into the car.
Rosa finds me in the sitting room.
She sets a cup of tea in front of me.
I don’t touch it.
For a while, she says nothing.
Then she sits on the edge of the chair opposite mine.
“You won’t make them stop loving her.”
I look up.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I want to snap at her.
Tell her she wasn’t there.
Tell her she doesn’t understand.
But she has worked in this house longer than I’ve been alive.
“She’s been their daughter for twenty-two years,” Rosa says. “They don’t know how to stop being her parents.”
“And I’m supposed to accept that?”
“You don’t have to like it.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
She glances toward the door.
Then back at me.
“What belongs to you?”
I look around the room.
“Apparently, nothing.”
“Your father has money. Property. A name people answer when they hear it.”
“He doesn’t want to give me anything.”
“He brought you home in front of everyone. He called you his daughter. He can’t pretend he didn’t.”
I look at the untouched tea.
Rosa lowers her voice.
“You keep asking them to feel something. Ask for something they can actually hand over.”
For the first time all day, I don’t have an answer ready.
She lets the silence settle.
My parents don’t come home that evening.
Or the next.
My mother calls once.
She asks whether I’ve calmed down.
I say yes.
She sounds relieved.
That hurts more than I expect.
For several days, I think about what Rosa said.
I stop practicing the conversations in which my mother finally understands.
I stop imagining my father telling Bianca that I have suffered enough and it is her turn to leave.
I call my father’s office and ask for a meeting.
He agrees after I say it concerns my future.
The guard lets the car out.
This time, when I reach Bianca’s house, I wait outside.
My parents come to the door together.
My mother’s face is cautious.
My father’s is already tired.
“What is it, Mara?”
I look at him.
“You arranged a marriage for Bianca.”
“Yes.”
“To the man expected to become the next Don.”
His eyes narrow.
“If this is another argument about Alessandro—”
“It isn’t.”
I straighten my shoulders.
“Find me a husband.”
My mother stares.
My father says nothing.
“A match just as good as hers.”