Chapter 3

Chiara

The three days after the Greco party were a silent hell.

After returning to my father's mansion in Milan, he decided that I should have no interaction with the outside world, so he confiscated my passport and my electronics; he didn't even trust me to leave my Kindle.

I struggled to get my things back, but his response was to give me another hard slap and tell me a curse in Italian that I would never forget.

“Maledetto sia il giorno in cui ti ho generato! (Cursed be the day I spawned you!),” my father shouted so loudly that his face turned red.

Luca dragged me out of his office and led me up to my room.

“I told you not to leave the room and give me time to find a solution, but you don't cooperate either,” Luca said with annoyance.

“I don't cooperate?” I asked angrily. “You are holding me hostage!”

“It's for your own good, Chiara,” my brother said with a sad expression. “One of the reasons my father brought you to Italy was to protect you. You don't understand because you've never been exposed, but you have to understand that our world is not as simple as you think. There are a lot of responsibilities, problems, and threats.”

“I was perfectly fine in New York; I have the dream life there,” I said angrily. “You know very well that Dad manipulated me with my grandfather's health condition to come. It wasn't because of a threat; he wanted me here to use me. He took me to that party for something. I'm not an idiot.”

“No,” Luca said firmly. “Father took you to the party at my insistence; it was I who thought it prudent to introduce you to the Mafia capos so that you would be familiar with them in case of an emergency. Father has been exposed to a lot of stress, and things are not quite right in the 'Ndrangheta.”

“That doesn't matter to me!”

“You should care because, like it or not, Father and I are the heads of the 'Ndrangheta, and you've always been a target. Don't be delusional! You enjoyed the things the Mafia offered you,” Luca said wearily.

“I never asked for anything; I was fine with my maternal grandparents,” I said defensively. “Dad was the one who decided to recognize me even though I was his lover's daughter. Everything else is not my problem.”

“That's where you're wrong; you're a Moretti, and you're part of the family. That's never going to change, so make peace with that truth,” Luca said and left in a hurry.

I could do nothing but curse and stuff myself with food.

The stress was giving me so much anxiety, and the only thing that calmed it was sugar, so on the fourth night I went to the kitchen to find something to eat. I was too anxious because I couldn't even go near my father's office to get my things out of his safe.

So I went downstairs and heard something that made my blood run cold.

“I made a list of terms that can be more beneficial for us than for Alessandro,” Luca said confidently. “If he really wants to marry Chiara, the best thing we can do is to make as much profit as possible on this deal. We can eliminate the dowry to be given or minimize it.”

“Sounds like the best idea of all to me,” my father said, and I felt like screaming. “Anyway, I used the party not only to introduce Chiara to the other capos as you suggested. That night I thought to create a political agreement with Stefano or have one of the other capos' sons get engaged to her, but that damned Alessandro has gone ahead. What does that devil intend to do?”

Damn them, I thought with hatred.

Everything had always been a ruse, and my opinion didn't matter.

“I don't know, but what I do know is he's at least decent with women. He has very strict rules about how his men should treat women, so Chiara won't be physically assaulted...” said Luca, and I couldn't listen anymore.

I had to leave the mansion that very night.

I was an object of the 'Ndrangheta, and the idea turned my stomach.

I could not allow it.

I went back to my room and looked for a small bag.

I packed lightly and went to the safe where I had the jewelry my father had given me over the years. I had 200 euros in cash hidden under the dresser, so I took it all.

I had to get to the center of Milan, get an emergency passport from the U.S. consulate, and pawn a small piece of jewelry to pay for my ticket to New York. I had no time to waste.

I opened the bedroom windows and carefully made my way out into the garden.

I waited patiently for the perimeter guards to go to the security booth to change shifts. When I saw no one, I ran as fast as I could to the fence, jumped it in a hurry, and my heart started pumping hard from the adrenaline.

I ran as fast as I could until I saw a taxi come out of one of the nearby streets, and I stopped it.

“Sta bene, signorina?” (Are you all right, miss?)” the man asked, and I smiled.

“Io non parlo italiano, lei parla inglese? (I don't speak Italian, do you speak English?),” I asked the man, and he nodded. “I would like you to take me to the center of Milan, please.”

I climbed into the cab and sighed.

The cab driver looked at me seriously but said nothing. I was so focused on running away that I didn't notice I was wearing the unicorn jacket I used as pajamas, so I clenched my fists. I had to buy new clothes to blend in better.

I was so thoughtful and nervous that I didn't notice when we arrived downtown until the gentleman had to shake my shoulders.

“That'll be 25 euros, miss,” the cab driver said, and I nodded.

I handed him a 50-euro bill. “Keep the change.”

I got out of the cab quickly and was about to cross the street when hands held me tightly. I looked to my right, and my brother was looking at me in disgust.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“Where do you think you're going, Chiara?” my brother asked on the verge of exploding.

“Away from here,” I replied, trying to sound firm despite the lump in my throat. “I'm not going to marry that man.”

Luca shook his head. “You have no choice, sorellina. Father has already given his word.”

“My life is not his to give!” I shouted so angrily that passersby looked at the interaction I was having with my brother.

Luca sighed in frustration and grabbed my arm with surprising strength.

“I'm sorry, Chiara. This is for our sake.”

Luca dragged me to a black limousine waiting in the dark, then opened the door and ushered me in.

What I never expected was to see Alessandro D'Amato sitting inside the limo.

He smiled at me with all his teeth, and his expression was triumphant.

My heart was beating so fast again that I couldn't react quickly. Luca closed the car door, and the door locks were activated.

Alessandro's phone rang; he answered the call and then handed it to me.

“It's Luca; he wants to tell you something,” Alessandro said, and that's when I reacted.

“Tell that pezzo di merda (piece of shit) that he can go to hell,” I said so sternly that Alessandro just laughed and hung up the call.

“That tongue of yours is very sharp,” Alessandro said.

“What am I doing here with you?” I asked bluntly.

“Your brother notified me of the 'Ndrangheta's decision regarding our deal, so he decided to turn you over to me, seeing that you were a flight risk,” Alessandro said, and I glared at him hatefully.

“I will never be yours; you will never touch me, and I swear, by my mother who is dead, Alessandro D'Amato, that your life will be hell,” I said with so much rage that my body vibrated.

Alessandro smiled and approached me without fear.

I didn't pull back; I sat up straight and brave, so I kept my posture erect. When he was about to kiss me, he whispered, “Never say never, amore mio (my love). By the way, you look more beautiful dressed as a unicorn.”

He pulled back.

“I'm never going to forgive you for this,” I said firmly.

“I know, but that will do nothing but make you bitter,” Alessandro said, pulled some mints out of his pocket, and offered me some. “Do you want some?”

I knocked the mints angrily from his hands.

“Go to hell!” I exclaimed with hatred.

Alessandro guffawed again.

I held back the urge to cry, so I turned to the window to ignore him.

“Your things will be sent to my house,” Alessandro said gently. “All of them, including your electronics and your passport.”

I ignored him.

It was obvious he intended to bargain with it, but he was going to run into the Berlin Wall.

“We'll go to Sicily,” Alessandro said.

I didn't answer, and I didn't say anything either when we went to the airport in Milan, or when he made me get on the plane, or during the whole trip. I kept silent; I held back tears and anger.

I couldn't process what was happening, and if I opened my mouth, I would be able to say something that would make Alessandro D'Amato shoot me in the head.

I had to be smart for my grandfather.

At dawn, we arrived at an imposing fortified mansion on the outskirts of Palermo, surrounded by high walls and ominous silence.

My prison.

When the limousine that came to pick us up from the airport parked, Alessandro gently took my arm.

“Let's go,” he said, and I got out of the limo in a hurry, avoiding physical contact. “Before you enter my house, I want to make clear to you three rules you must abide by or you will have consequences.” Those words made me look at Alessandro with annoyance. “You will not try to run away. You will not harm yourself. And you will live with me, under this roof, every day.”

At that moment I knew that the freedom I so longed for was a distant memory fading into the distance between Milan and this gilded cage in Sicily.

It was death in life.