the newspaper

FRANCESCA

I’M ALONE IN the house, and I’m relieved. The weight of the note in my pocket is a constant reminder of my predicament. I quickly change into leggings and a long-sleeved shirt, then head to the kitchen.

Mya’s not around to do the chores anymore, so they fall to me. I don’t mind, really. It keeps me busy. But the secrets I’m keeping, those are what’s eating at me.

How can I tell the Don that one of his own is planning to betray him? The mere thought could get her killed. If I tell him, I’m throwing her to the wolves.

But if I don’t tell him, I’m the one betraying him. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. And now there’s a new problem. It feels like I have to choose between myself and Arianna.

Alessia’s upstairs, probably unpacking. The mansion is too big, and with no one else home, it’s eerily quiet.

How am I supposed to face Antonio? I can’t lie to him, but telling him the truth could mean a death sentence for my sister. I don’t want to make that choice.

I hiss as I accidentally burn myself while boiling water. I want to smack myself. How do you burn yourself boiling water?

“Careful,” a voice says behind me. I whirl around, hand on my heart. I didn’t realize anyone else was home.

Dante Giordano is standing there, newspaper in hand. The front page is a stark reminder of yesterday’s horrors. He sees me looking and hands it to me.

“Thank you,” I say, taking the thick bundle of papers.

“Burning Man Falls Over the Suicide Bridge with a Woman,” I read aloud.

‘Jasmine Smith and an unknown man were found dead under the Suicide Bridge. Miss Smith had been kidnapped weeks ago from Toronto and today was found dead in New York.’

~What happened? Who was the burnt man? There have been no traces of proof of obvious struggle, or use of force. It almost seems like a mere suicide case. ~

~But her family knows otherwise, and refuses to speak up.~

I feel sick as I hand the newspaper back to Dante. He watches me, my head bowed, my face pale.

“You were there?” he asks.

I don’t know what to say. I just nod.

“It’ll get better with time,” he says, sounding unsure and making the moment even more awkward.

I look up at him, and he’s frowning, confused.

“Thank you,” I tell him. He’s trying to be kind.

“When is Alessia starting school?” he asks out of the blue.

I feel a strange sense of comfort, knowing something he doesn’t. I feel like I belong, like I matter, like I’m useful.

“On Monday,” I answer.

Dante folds the newspaper in half and looks at me. “All right. By the way, Toni’s going to be a bit late. He doesn’t usually come for lunch but you’ve probably figured that out by now.”

I’m confused by the nickname. “Toni?” I ask.

Realization dawns on his face as he remembers I’m new here. “Antonio. Rosemary nicknamed him Toni when we were younger. I guess the name just stuck.” He smiles a little.

I nod. I want to know more about Rosemary. All I know is that she was Mya’s older sister and important to my husband and his brothers.

I decide to take a risk. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is Rosemary?”

Dante doesn’t seem to mind. “Was—who was Rosemary? She raised us. Mother and Father weren’t ever there so they kept her as our nanny.

“We thought she was our mom at one point.” He laughs, but it’s a bitter sound. “But Father just couldn’t keep it in his pants. It wasn’t until he started having an affair with her that she had to go.”

He looks pained.

“Alessia’s her daughter?” I guess.

He nods. I want to ask him why she was kept out of the Family. Any children of high-ranked people were usually traded.

It was customary to marry them off to your enemies to keep the peace. But I don’t dare ask him that. I feel like I already know too much.

“I’ll be upstairs. Costanzo and Omero will be here soon. Oh, and we are going out for dinner so please just make something light for lunch.”

When he leaves, I let out a sigh of relief. I’m afraid of men, but the Giordano brothers seem different. They’re not gentlemen, but they don’t act like criminals either. They’re—reserved, I guess.

Rosemary raised them well. As well as she could in a crime family.

I smile a little at the thought. I like the idea of respectful mafiosi. I quickly make a few sandwiches that can be packed and eaten later.

I know Alessia must be hungry, but I’m not sure if I should disturb Dante.

This morning, I saw where Alessia’s room is. It’s the farthest room from the second-floor office. As long as she doesn’t wander to the third floor, she’ll be fine.

That floor is full of things that hint at something being off. Like the shooting range I saw when I was up there, and a windowless room that looks like a cage. Not to mention the windows that are always closed.

From the one time I was up there, I could tell that no one really goes up there unless they have to.

Where the hell is Mya though? Did she really try to kill me? But why? What did I do to her?

Maybe that’s what I get for being nice. Well, I admit our last meeting wasn’t that pleasant. I was practically ordering her around and I didn’t like her. She gave me weird vibes.

~It’s her job, Franci.~ I was justified in my actions.

Is she dead? I don’t think so. She feels too close to the Don. He might have dragged her into some shady business like drugs or prostitution, or he might have just killed her.

But the way he talks to her makes me second guess. He could’ve ended her life right there for betraying us. He’s killed two people right in front of me, so it wouldn’t be a stretch.

If she’s really part of the plan, then I’m certain she’s just a pawn and wouldn’t have any useful information. The Don would know that. Maybe he’s using her as bait.

Or am I just overthinking this?

I roll my eyes, brushing it off. It’s not my problem. My job is to play the part of the perfect housewife and paint my toenails. But for some reason, I’ve been feeling a bit rebellious lately, and that’s not a good sign.

Questioning things, showing my fear, and all that. All I need to do now is add physical violence to the list. Oh wait, I already did. I smacked my harasser with a chair.

It’s not even two weeks after the wedding and I’m already making a bad impression. I can only guess that the new environment is making me act out.

My father would have had a fit if he saw me now.