a familiar face

FRANCESCA

I FREEZE, FEELING my face drain of color. The man shoves the girl in with a harsh push.

I should be worried about her, that’s the normal reaction. But instead, I’m silently pleading in my head.

~Please, don’t recognize me. Please, God.~

But as usual, luck isn’t on my side. Or hers. The moment she sees me, I know she recognizes me. Her eyes widen in shock, then disgust, then understanding. It’s as if everything suddenly clicks into place.

And it does. My behavior throughout high school makes sense now that she knows who I am—a criminal’s woman.

I know that if she says anything about me, she’ll be dead. I don’t want her death on my conscience. I don’t want her blood on my hands.

“Francesca?” she calls out, her face a picture of shock.

I want to smack my forehead in frustration. I feel Antonio stiffen beneath me. His grip on my hand tightens, a mix of curiosity and surprise.

“Oh, my God! It is you!” she yells, only to be smacked by the Don’s man.

“Shut up, bitch!” The man turns toward us, his head bowed in a show of respect. “This whore wouldn’t stop fussing. I had to teach her a lesson before bringing her here.”

I flinch at his words. Everyone here knows what that means. I just hope he didn’t rape her.

“I want her.”

My heart stops at his words. He’s asking for a mistress in front of me? It’s an insult, and I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.

I thought he was different. He was supposed to be mine only, wasn’t he? But more than that, he wants her because I’m not enough. Where did I go wrong?

~No, I can’t think like that.~

The bodyguard smirks, a sickening grin on his face. “You lucky bitch,” he snarls.

I can’t cry. Crying is for the weak. I’m not weak, am I?

“Send the virgins to the strip club. I don’t want to be involved in this again,” he continues, as if the girls aren’t even there.

I stand up the moment he taps my thigh. I feel dirty sitting on him, like I’m just some whore. Why was I born into such a shameful world? It would be better to be dead.

I’m ashamed that I have to bear his children, that I’m the woman he comes home to after he’s killed. When he drags me out, my eyes meet Jasmine’s, a girl I haven’t seen since high school.

She was always friendly and cheerful. We were even friends. And the worst part is that she’s being forced into this. No one deserves this.

I’m grateful that the Don leaves the children out of it. Raffaello, his father, and the previous Don brought shame to the Family by trafficking humans.

But that changed when they realized how much money they could make. It wasn’t always like this. At least, not to this extent.

I shiver as we pass the cold metal and concrete walls. The place is freezing, but I know my trembling is from fear.

Just minutes ago, I was trying to escape these halls to find Antonio. Now, all I want is to escape from him too. I hate infidelity. I hate being humiliated, even though I’m used to it.

I don’t understand how someone could do this to another person. I hate watching someone’s life get ruined because of us.

My grip on the Don’s hand tightens when I see Fabio dragging the bodyguard I’d knocked out.

Father is with them, along with the kids from the cages. They’re all tied up, gags across their mouths and blindfolds over their eyes. I can’t even imagine how terrified they must be.

I know that the Mafia doesn’t usually mess with rich kids or influential people. The Family always tries to keep a low profile, so no one is coming to rescue these kids.

Sometimes, even the police are involved. Justice is a joke here.

Tears well up in my eyes, but I force them back. I won’t cry. I can’t cry because I’m not willing to help either. Why would I help myself by crying and letting out my distress? I don’t deserve it.

It’s heartbreaking that I know what’s happening and can’t do anything about it. Even the police are too scared to investigate us. In Italy, just my husband’s name is enough to get things done.

People don’t even bother to check if the Don actually ordered the hits or not. They just do it because they’re too terrified to object. Fear is what makes him king.

I see Arianna at the top of the staircase, her expression unreadable. Her eyes are filled with pain as she looks at me. I try to give her a small smile, but I can’t. How could I? I’m not happy.

The Don opens the car door and pushes me inside before getting in himself. I move to the farthest seat. I don’t want to even look at him, even though I know it’s pointless.

“No! Let me go! Fra—!” I watch in silence as a guard smacks Jasmine before spitting on her. He drags her by her hair, opens the trunk of our car, and throws her inside before slamming it shut and walking around the car.

The bodyguard nods at my husband through the tinted window before going back inside. After all, he’s Father’s man.

I recognize Fabio, who gets into the passenger seat and waits for my husband to give the order to start driving. I don’t dare look at him and stare out the window instead.

I try to pull my hand away when I feel him grab it, but he holds it tighter. I know it’s not romantic. It’s just a reminder of who I belong to. A cruel reminder of something I can’t forget.

The cars start moving. I see Father watching from the window. He looks rough, and I have a feeling he’s up to no good. But it’s his fault.

He’d crossed the Don and lost his job. If it were anyone else, they’d be six feet under by now. But Dad, he’s a heavy hitter in the underworld. Plus, he and Raffaello, they’re tight.

As the car veers off the usual route to the mansion, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s seriously off.