Chapter 23 Born In The Famiglia
SANCIA
I stared at the mirror in my bathroom, trying to see if there was any change in my face from what happened earlier. Even now, there's a twinge of discomfort in my sex where Lorenzo had put his finger despite sitting in the hot bath for a few minutes after I had come back.
I glance at my hands, and they've finally ceased shaking. I had run the moment Sergio and Fabio rounded the corner, both with bruises on their faces.
I didn't care to stop and ask the obvious and went straight to my room; Sergio had come in to check up on me with a guilty expression. I didn't blame him, but I wanted to be left alone, so I told him to go away.
I padded out of the bathroom and lay down on my bed. Part of me is angry at myself for not fighting harder. Instead, I just stood there like a fish while he had his finger inside me.
My stomach clenched when I was reminded of that strange feeling that had come over me. It was just for a split second, but I hated myself at that moment. What is wrong with me?
Nothing, it's all that Diavolo’s doing. What today's event confirmed for me was that my upcoming wedding was nothing but a colossal joke, a cruel twist of fate.
My life, a thing to control by the power that is, aka my Papa, the king of a ruthless and archaic kingdom. He was a controlling, domineering husband and father, and he'd given me to a man like him.
I wonder if my virginity is gone. I'll have to ask Tina. She has more knowledge about these things than I do.
A part of me wondered what Papa would say if I told him Lorenzo had touched me inappropriately, that's putting it mildly. For a girl who barely knew how to kiss, to get fingered straight on was more than I was ready for.
Papa probably won't believe me. Right now, nothing and no one can stop this alliance; even I could see that he needed Lorenzo; otherwise, he wouldn't have agreed to this insanity.
Papa is a man who uses everyone around him; to him, his wife is a dignified slave and he a master, his children are nothing but bargaining chips he could use any time it suited him.
I wouldn't go as far as to call him a bad or cruel father; he does love us to a point, as I had come to learn.
Especially me, who everyone knew was his favorite daughter, growing up and until recently, I had gotten away with a lot of things Isabella and Sergio could never have dreamed of—but a good father he was not.
Papa doesn't raise his hand on us or our mother, which is more than I could say for the other men in the mafia world. There's a reason why I can't hate him. He'd always been biased towards me; maybe that was what made me confident and comfortable that I'm not the same as the others.
But my expectations had now given way to the harsh reality that not even my happiness could ever compare to his love for power. I'm not naive, even with the special treatment, I've never gotten the illusion that I was more special than the rules that govern our world.
I've always known that I have no choice when it comes to choosing the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and when Papa decided on Antonio. I had accepted this, knowing it could have been worse.
Antonio was a constant in my life; I've always admired him, right from childhood, when he used to follow his father here. So I was happy when we got engaged.
And now, my engagement with Antonio has been broken, and I'm soon going to be engaged to another man who scares the shit out of me.
A man I barely know but somehow understands the depth of evil lurking beneath his handsome face—better than my father, his Consigliere, and soldiers. But no one is listening to me; they don't think or expect much of me or any woman.
It's laughable how some kids in my college looked at us with envy and awe, thinking we were lucky and lived a comfortable life where everything was provided for us just because we rode in expensive cars, had bodyguards, and wore designer clothes.
They don't know who we are as such; they'd never consider the price of being born into this kind of life, this kind of family, where you have no choice in any aspect of your life, where your every move and every action is dictated by the power that be.
What these students didn't know is that I would trade all the wealth and luxury for an average father who worked an honest job, was dedicated to his family, and understood that, as we grow into adults, we will make our own decisions, and he would accept that.
I am sure many women in this world share that sentiment. At the same time, women live a privileged life where we lack for nothing. We were not seen as equals. Women and girls in my world are seen as prize mares and trophy wives. Accessories, while men are seen as protectors, masters, and kings.
Our lives are filled with violence, though women and children are kept from the ugly part of it. Or at least some try to keep out of their homes, not all, though; some bring that violence into their homes.
You could see it in the women's eyes or their caked faces, an attempt to cover up a bruise or two with makeup.
Papa never treated us the way a loving father would his children. It wasn't that he was abusive or anything; he just didn't have the time to coddle us, as he sometimes calls it. He's always been strict, and no one dares go against his words when he's given an order.
Except me, his little Sancia. A lot of people say the middle child is never the favorite, but that wasn't the case with me. Papa favored me simply because I was the replica of his late mother, my grandmother.
I believe he loves me, or at least he used to love me, and I love my Papa despite his flaws and appreciate everything he's always done for me.
I used to always think he loved me most in this world because he'd mostly never deny me anything, unlike how he usually does with my siblings. But now I know if he'd loved me, his favored child, even a little bit more than he loves power, he would not do this, certainly not to me.
Even now, I still can't believe he'd given me away to his enemy, now turned ally. A monster whom everyone feared like he was the devil himself, A man who had earned the name Diavolo. A man I had seen butchered a man in broad daylight without an ounce of remorse.
That is the man I will soon be calling my husband. Because that is who he would become to me. The man I'm expected to accept into my bed and body in less than half a month and later bear children for.
No matter that I am in love and was engaged to a different man mere days ago, after three years of engagement.
I am not under an illusion that my father was any different from the others in the Cosa Nostra, but at least he'd kept most of the violence outside while we knew who he was and what he did for a living.
We were kept away from it all, and though there had been occasional incidents where our lives were at risk, we were never at the core of it. While it was true that I was the favorite daughter, Papa had also always been stricter with me than with my siblings.
He'd never allowed me to leave the house when it was dangerous outside, and whenever he let me go out, he sent me with more men than even Mama had as bodyguards, so I was never at the core of any dangerous situations.
So, I was surprised and grateful that he'd allowed me to come here with Isabella to study. Of course, my Zia Francesca played a huge part in that. But now everything is ruined because of one man.