It was the eighteenth time the Castellanos and the Marchettis tried to put me and Dante at the altar, and once again every made man in the ballroom walked out behind my adopted sister. My mother called. Impatient. Not even pretending to care. "Mirella's stomach is acting up again. We're flying the Family doctor in. Just cancel, you've done it enough times, you know what to say to the room." Then Gianna, my maid of honor, my blood sister since we were six, clicked her tongue at me through the phone. "You serious right now, Aria? Your ceremony matters more than Mirella nearly hitting the floor? When did you get this cold?" And Dante? My fiancé, the Don of the Castellano Family, didn't even bother dialing. Just a text. Six words. Ceremony's off. We'll talk later. I read those six words over and over. He'd used that same line on me eighteen times. A cold laugh slipped out before I could stop it. And just like that, I felt nothing. Eighteen times. Enough. I walked out of the bridal suite, straight past the wall of amethyst violets. Mirella's favorite flower. Never mine. The whole hallway reeked of her. The family chapel was at the end of the hall. I went inside and shut the door behind me. I dropped to my knees in front of the cross. Three days, I whispered. That's all I want. Three days to cut every one of them off, and let them lose every damn thing they got because of me. The candles flickered once. Somewhere far away, I swear something answered back. I picked up the microphone and walked onto the engagement stage. Every inch of it draped in amethyst violets. Mirella's favorite. Funny how that always worked out. "My apologies, everyone. Tonight's ceremony is canceled." The room of capos, consiglieres, and Family wives traded looks. Not one of them looked surprised. "Knew it. Eighteen ceremonies and not one's gone through. If I were her, I'd have stopped showing my face years ago." "The whole Marchetti house has bent the knee to that little sister for years. If I were Aria, I'd have stepped aside, kissed Dante goodbye, and at least walked out with my name still meaning something." "Oh, honey. You don't get it. Every time Don Dante's tried to walk away from her, something happens. Last spring the Family lost three container ships off the coast of Naples. Two billion in product, gone overnight. The spring before that, the Atlantic City casino burned to the ground. He's tested it more than once. That's the only reason he hasn't put her on a plane back to Sicily for good." "So she's, what, some kind of charm?" "Call her whatever you want. The man is stuck with her, and the whole East Coast knows it." I walked off the stage with their stares on my back. I heard every word. The corner of my mouth ticked up. This time, a few burned ships were going to be the smallest of their problems. I changed out of the gown and drove back to the Marchetti estate to grab my things and disappear before sunrise. But the second I stepped into the foyer, the front gates opened and the whole convoy came rolling in. Three black SUVs, a dozen Family soldiers, and Mirella in the middle of all of them, leaning on Dante's arm like she'd just walked out of a hospital instead of brunch. The moment they saw me, every smile in the foyer dropped. Dante's eyes went black. "Aria. You canceled and didn't give the room a single reason. Now every Family from here to Sicily is going to be whispering it was Mirella again. Do you understand what that does to my name?" My father scoffed. Didn't even look up. "You really screwed up this time, Aria. Every other cancellation, you cleaned it up yourself. I never had to lift a finger. Get on the phone. Call the columnists, call the wives, call every gossip we own, and tell them the truth. Tell them you were being a brat." Gianna already had her phone out. "I'll start working the wives. By morning every Family on the coast will be saying Aria threw a tantrum and walked out. Nobody will be saying Mirella's name." I didn't say a word. I just stood there and watched them. Two more nights. That's all I needed. "Aria. Are you listening? I'm telling you straight. If you don't fix this, I can't promise when the next ceremony happens. Or if it happens at all." Dante stopped right in front of me. Voice sharp. Done with me. And then Mirella finally opened her mouth, voice soft as silk. "It's all my fault. I came between Dante and my sister. Blame me for everything." "There are still a few good dates left this month. Please. Don't push the ceremony back any further." She didn't even finish before she started coughing. Dante crossed the foyer and rubbed her back like she was made of glass. "It's not your fault, sweetheart. Don't even think about it. Your sister can't live without me. We could put this off another year and nothing would change." "Then you're the one who doesn't get it." That was the first thing I said since I walked in. Every head in the room snapped toward me. I lifted the bag in my hand. "I'm leaving." The words barely left my mouth. The next second, a sharp crack split the air. The slap echoed through the whole foyer.
I tipped my head and let out a bitter laugh. My mother's hand was still shaking from the slap. "You've got the nerve to keep pushing me? After everything we've done for you? This is what we get?" "You want to walk out? Where? You think the whole Family won't talk? You think they won't say we threw you out like trash?" She was screaming by the end, voice cracking. "I should've never had you, Aria. Not one damn day of peace since Mirella came home. Not one." The taste of blood spread across my tongue. I ran my tongue along the corner of my lip. Yeah. Every other time, I would have made a scene. Because I didn't get it. I didn't get how Mirella smashed my father's antique pistol and somehow I was the one who broke it. I didn't get how the security cameras caught her tripping on the staircase, and they still swore I pushed her. I didn't get how I bought a bouquet of lilies, she turned out to be allergic, and suddenly I was a bully. This wasn't the first time my mother had hit me. The last time was two days ago. Mirella wanted to wear my engagement gown and I said no. She fainted on the spot. My mother shoved me into the wall and took a pair of scissors to the custom gown I'd waited six months for. Mirella was tearing us apart, and we were almost done. So yeah. I used to scream. I used to drag every soldier and capo into the foyer and beg someone, anyone, to tell me I wasn't losing my mind. Not this time. The truth was, I'd always brought this Family good fortune. Every single one of them. The day after I was born, the Marchettis pulled a port deal out of nowhere that yanked the Family back from the edge and made my father the most feared Don on the East Coast. His stage-two liver cancer cleared the same week. Every doctor in New York said it was impossible. Gianna was nothing but a forgettable kid from a forgettable little Family before she met me. Once she started running around with me, she grew into the kind of beauty that turned every head in a room. Landed every audition. Won Best Actress at twenty-two. Became the most bankable face in the country. And Dante. He was nobody back then. A teenager running cigarettes and stolen watches out of the back of a flea market in Queens. Cops chased him. Older crews beat him bloody. He slept on a cot in his cousin's shop. Until the night he found me wandering lost down by the docks and walked me home. I fell for him before we made it back to the gate. After that, every move he made hit gold. Built his own crew. Never lost a deal. By thirty, he was Don of the Castellano Family, with his hands in half the ports from Boston to Miami. For twenty years, this whole Family treated me like the sun rose and set on me. Dante looked at me like I was the only thing keeping his heart beating. They got everything they ever wanted. Then Mirella was brought home. And every last one of them changed. My father's voice went cold. He didn't even glance at me. "Take it all back. The dress. The earrings. The watch. Pull every diamond off her wrist and her neck. Not one Marchetti thread walks out that door with her." "You want out, Aria? Go. But don't come crying back. I'll be on the front page of every paper in the city tomorrow disowning you for good. You won't carry my name another day." They didn't even let me grab a coat before two soldiers shoved me out the front door. Dante exhaled and pressed a key into my hand. "It's an apartment downtown. Go there. Sleep it off. I'm not doing this with you again, Aria. None of us are." "I should've saved Mirella that night. Not you." I scoffed. "Then marry her." He let out a long, exhausted breath. "Don't start. I told you I'd put a ring on you and I will. That doesn't change." "Mirella is sweet. She's a good girl. I'm not going to stand here and let you treat her like she's something to throw away. Don't pull that again." He turned and walked back up the steps. I dropped the key on the marble and turned to leave. Mirella came running across the foyer and grabbed my sleeve. "Sister, don't go. I'm the one who reached for what was never mine. I don't deserve any of this." "You stay. I'll go. I'll be packed and out before sunrise, I swear." I knew exactly what she was doing. So I stood there. Let her clutch my sleeve and squeeze out her little tears. But the second she realized I wasn't shoving her off like I always had, she gasped, clutched her chest, and crumpled at my feet. "Mirella!" "Somebody call the doctor! Mirella, honey, stay with me!" Every soldier and house staff member in the foyer came running and crowded around her. Dante's hand closed around my throat. His eyes were black. "You laid a hand on her? Don't think for a second I won't put one on you, Aria." Turns out, when you're past furious, all you can do is laugh. I hadn't even touched her. Somehow I'd still done it. "Dante. I really hope none of you live to regret this." My father's voice cracked across the foyer. "Get her the hell out of my sight. Lock her in the cellar. I'm not done with her tonight."
The cellar was cold. Damp. The kind of dark that crawled under your skin. Second time I'd been thrown down here. The first time was still fresh. I'd caught Mirella sneaking into Dante's wing of the estate at two in the morning. Found her curled up in his bed like she belonged there. She broke down sobbing. Said she'd been sleepwalking. Said her foster father back in Sicily used to lock her in a closet at night, and ever since, her feet just carried her somewhere she felt safe. She didn't know it was Dante's bed. She didn't mean it. Please don't be mad. My parents bought every word. Dante crouched down in front of her like she was made of porcelain and told her, soft as silk, that his door was always open. Anytime she was scared. Back then I was still out of my mind in love with him. I wouldn't let a single woman near his office. Every female assistant on his floor got transferred out within a month. The only women allowed near him were the cleaning staff, and they had to be over fifty. So I walked over and slapped Mirella across the face. My father had me hauled down to this cellar that same night. Seven days. One bowl of broth a day. No light, no blanket, no door cracking open. They didn't drag me out until I was too weak to stand and I agreed to apologize on my knees. This time, starvation wasn't the plan. My father came down the stone steps with a riding crop in his hand. Dante walked in behind him. "Family code says thirty for what you did. Mirella got down on her knees and begged me to go easy on you. She asked for the crop instead of the belt. So now it's fifty." A pause. Then he raised his arm. Crack. The first lash tore a red welt across my back before I even felt it land. He went again. And again. A dozen strikes in. The welts split open one after another. By the tenth, every blow was hitting raw meat. My skin was on fire and somehow numb at the same time. The crop had been soaked in something. Even through the haze of pain, I could smell it. Vinegar. Salt. Some kind of brine. So that's what begging for the crop really meant. "Apologize to your sister." "You going to apologize or not?" He never got the answer he wanted, so he just hit harder. By the time he counted to fifty, my back and the backs of my arms were open. Strips of skin hung loose. Blood ran down my spine and pooled on the stone floor underneath me. I'd stopped feeling individual blows somewhere around twenty. I curled into the corner, forehead against the cold stone, breathing in shallow gulps. My father dropped the crop on the ground and turned for the stairs. "Stubborn as a damn mule. Just like her grandmother." That was all he said before he left. Dante crouched in front of me. "Mirella sent down ointment and a clean shirt. After everything you put her through, she's the one taking care of you." "You're her sister, Aria. Act like it." "Just apologize. End this." He shook out the shirt Mirella had picked out for me. Laid it across my back like he was doing me a kindness. The second the fabric touched my open wounds, my whole body locked up like someone had thrown me into a barrel of salt. I doubled over on the stone and couldn't breathe. Mirella hadn't sent ointment. She'd dusted that shirt with something. The sting was deep, chemical, the kind that bit straight into raw skin. I bit down on my tongue until I tasted iron just to keep from screaming. Dante stood up and looked down at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "Christ. The dramatics. Mirella's been white as a sheet from pain her whole life and you've never seen her put on a show like this." He walked out. I waited until I heard the cellar door slam upstairs before I let myself breathe. Then I lay there on the cold stone, staring at the blood on my own hands, and counted. Two more nights. Two more nights and every last thing this Family had bled out of me was coming home.
Watch? https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202606247KKPHLrG8S ? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "Novelix" app ? search for "ni018186", and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix