mafia interrogation

FRANCESCA

MYA LOOKS LIKE a fish out of water, her eyes wide with shock and fear. When Omero speaks, we all listen. He’s got a commanding presence that hints at the powerful man he’ll become.

“M-Master, h-how can I-I eat this?” she stammers.

“Why, is there a problem?” Costanzo raises an eyebrow.

Mya and I both catch on to what they’re implying. They think she’s tampered with the food. I’m left wondering if Antonio suspected her before I did. Was this all part of a plan?

“N-no, of course not,” she says, her voice a mix of firmness and nerves.

“Then? Eat.”

I realize that none of us have touched the food, let alone served ourselves. I have so many questions, but I know I need to stay quiet.

I’m surprised they’re even discussing this in front of me.

Mya’s hands shake as she picks up a pancake and takes a bite. Her face turns red with embarrassment.

Costanzo grins once she swallows the food.

I jump when I feel lips on my neck. The surprise sends my head spinning and a soft breath escapes my lips as Antonio’s arm tightens around my waist.

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps across my skin.

“We are leaving. Mya, get up,” he orders. He pats my thighs twice, a silent signal for me to stand as well. I do, of course.

I know this is the last time I’ll see Mya. She’ll be dead soon, and I won’t even get to say goodbye.

I watch in silence as they all leave, leaving me to clean up the dishes.

~You can’t cry, Doll. You are the Donna of the Family. Crying isn’t an option.~

I hate my subconscious sometimes, especially when it’s right. I have to stay strong.

The realization hits me hard. I’m alone. I’m in a house full of men—dangerous men—and if Antonio wanted, he could share me with them.

MYA

Mya sees herself as a pawn in a big game, but she knows she made her own choices. She accepted their offer. Now she realizes how foolish that was.

She didn’t consider the consequences if things didn’t go as planned. If the Donna was saved. She never thought they would suspect her—a mere maid.

Tied to a chair with a dirty sock in her mouth, Mya is far from the peace she thought she’d feel if the Giordano Family lost its respect.

After all, they ruined her sister’s life.

Omero towers over her. She’s in a windowless wooden room, lit only by a harsh light. She knows the boy won’t hesitate to kill her.

The brothers are loyal to the Don and Mya is a traitor. A traitor who will face the justified punishment—the penalty of betrayal. She can only hope for mercy.

Mya sobs as the door opens. Darkness shrouds the outside world and she knows her trial has begun.

The Don walks in. His face is impassive, but everyone in the room knows better. The Family is his to command.

The Don drags another chair in front of the maid. He trusted her enough to let her into his home.

After all, her sister Rosemary was their loyal nanny until his father betrayed her and threw her out, only to discover she was pregnant.

The Don always knew he had a sister, but her whereabouts were never disclosed. He had to find that out himself.

His father had made a promise to Rosemary and in the Family, your word is everything. Even someone as reckless as Raffealo knew that.

“You shouldn’t have attacked my wife,” the Don says, his voice echoing in the large room.

Mya sobs harder.

“Omero, take her gag out.” The boy complies, pulling the dirty sock from her mouth.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the traitor cries.

The Don is silent before he speaks again. He’s like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

“No. You’re just sorry that you were caught. You’re sorry for the ones you conspired with. Not about me, nor the Donna.”

Mya shakes her head fervently. “No, I mean it! Please!”

“Then, answer a few questions. I may consider not sending you into a prostitution ring with Alessia. What is she, fourteen?”

He’s ruthless and she knows it, yet she begs again. “No, please. Not Alessia. I’ll do anything.”

“Who sent you, Mya?”

Mya stays silent. She knows that if she answers, a bloodbath is inevitable. She knows the Don is watching, assessing her reactions.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want your baby Alessia to suffer. She’s coming here, to America, right now,” the Don says.

Mya’s eyes widen. “H-how? I d-didn’t tell you anything.”

The Don chuckles, a sinister sound. “Oh, you gave us a lot of info just by speaking. Benjamin Peterson, remember?”

Mya quickly shakes her head, relief on the tip of her tongue. Maybe the Don is bluffing. “There are a lot of Benjamin Petersons, Don.”

The Don nods. “You’re right, but he’s the only one living in the JS Complex.”

Mya gasps, realizing her mistake. “H-how?”

“You seriously thought the Don wouldn’t know where Alessia is? His own sister?” Omero growls. “You’re an idiot.”

Mya finally gets it. The Don is doing her a favor by letting her spill the beans about Alessia’s whereabouts. But now, she’s facing a fate worse than she could have imagined.

“P-please, I didn’t know.”

“No shit,” Omero retorts. It’s the most he’s said all day. Everyone has a story, and his is no different.

“Omero,” Antonio warns.

Omero fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’s itching to break this woman in two, but she’s the younger sister of their former nanny—the woman his father knocked up and then discarded.

“Give me everything you know about Rosemary, and we’ll make your death a little less painful.” It’s not a question. It’s a command, and this time, she’s not dumb enough to ignore it.

“Rosemary changed her name to Maria Genovese. She secretly married Benjamin Peterson because he’s a top cop and could keep her safe.

“She was in witness protection. Ben’s a good guy. Alessia’s happy with him,” Mya tries to convince her boss not to go after Alessia.

What Mya doesn’t know is that the Don already has all this information. But he doesn’t keep a constant eye on them.

He has more important things to do. Why else would he stop tracking his half-sister and their former nanny—a woman who was like a mother to him?

He didn’t know until now that Rosemary had died. The idea of someone outside the Mafia raising one of his own doesn’t sit well with him.

A damn cop is raising his sister, and he can’t stand it.

“You’ve betrayed the Family by helping people plot against the Donna of the Giordano Family. You were foolish to think that no one would find out.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond. He knows she won’t. He has a hunch about who’s behind it, but he’s not going to strike.

If he’s right, it would spark chaos, and now is not the time for a Mafia war.

The cops are breathing down their necks, and he’s not oblivious to the ongoing investigation into the Families in America.

FRANCESCA

I despise the vast, silent mansion. It brings back memories of when Father would lock me in the basement and bang on the door to keep me awake.

I feel like a lamb in a lion’s den, waiting for him to come and devour me.

The house is a dark prison, and I feel like a princess living in a beautiful, white mansion with a heart full of sin. I never asked to be a princess, but here I am, already a queen.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I tell myself, tossing and turning in bed, trying to find a comfortable position.

I hastily pull the blankets over me. They can’t really protect me, but they offer a barrier from the outside world.

I know there are bodyguards patrolling outside and inside the house, but I don’t trust them.

I remember when a guard entered Mother’s room to rape her while Father was away. Father killed him for not asking his permission first.

He didn’t care about Mother’s feelings. He only cared about his authority.

My breath catches as I quickly get up and lock the door. I’m wearing a revealing nightie and I don’t need a man walking in.

My husband probably won’t be home tonight. It’s past one and I’m tired of waiting.