Stacy—So I had a visitor

"Boys are stupid," I said to no one in particular, as I entered my apartment. 

I couldn't really blame Scott for freaking out after everything I laid at his feet last night. Still, it would have been nice if Willow didn't find out like that. My past brought me no joy. In fact, I was ashamed of it. Now that it was all out there, I felt like Scott was judging me. How did he expect me to tell him my most personal shame? Aren't we all entitled to some secrets? 

As I went from the kitchen to the living room turning on the lights in the apartment, something immediately struck me. My study's door was open. I know I closed it before I went shopping with Willow this morning. The cushions on my couch were all at different angles. 

Passing the coffee table with quiet careful steps, I made my way over to the corner of the room where my bookshelf was located. I slid my fingers along the books until I found the one I wanted, pulled it out, opened it up and took my gun out of the hollowed out Physics textbook and slid the book back into place. 

I hadn't touched the book since the day I first slid it onto this shelf seven years ago, except to clean the gun occasionally. My leaving home made sparks, so it was stupid not to be prepared. Daddy's enemies were mine and they were everywhere. I kept current and was a regular at the shooting range. Just the same, I was a Luciano. Everyone knew breaking into my place was stupid. Which made it more than likely that my visitor was sent by daddy. 

Gun in hand, heart in my throat, I cleared every other room in the apartment before coming back to the open study. 

"Turn around slowly," I said, keeping my voice steady as I walked through the door. "Let's see your hands."

"It's hands first, then turn around slowly," said the intruder, swivelling around in my chair.

Even before I saw his face, I knew who it was. I would know that smug voice anywhere. The heavy stench of cologne should have given him away the moment I entered the apartment. I was slipping. 

"Get out of my apartment, Joey," I said with a sigh of relief, lowering the gun and setting it down on the desk.

"It's Joseph," he snapped. 

"Nothing's going to make you any less sixteen, you pip-squeak," I sassed him. 

There was nothing wrong with Joey per say. If you excused the pretentious Italian suits, loafers and excessive bling, he was your run of the mill teenager, doing everything in his power to impress daddy. You can see why we were not close. I quit trying to do that seven years ago. 

"Come home quietly before things get out of hand," said Joey, his fingers laced on the desk, while he tried to do what I can only assume is his face of intimidation. 

"You look constipated. Pull the stick up your ass out when you leave," I said, picking up my gun and walking out the door to return it to its hiding place. 

Joey was hot on my heels within moments. 

"You took something from Don Angelo last time you left home. He wants it back," Joey persisted. 

"And he sent you to come and get it?" I challenged, returning to my study to grab my back pack. 

"Not exactly. I'm here to tell you you're cut off," said Joey, his signature smug smirk on his face.

"Okay," I said, stuffing my backpack with books and stationary. 

"This apartment is in Don Angelo's name. He wants you out by the end of the day," Joey continued, still looking for a reaction. 

"Okay," I said again, unfazed.

I knew this was coming. Phase one of trying to get me to come back: freeze all of my accounts. I had prepared for this eventuality.

"That's right. You're scared now, aren't you?" Joey persisted. 

I gave him a bored look, zipping up my backpack and putting it on my back. 

"Hand over that thing that you stole while you're at it if you know what's good for you," Joey continued, nodding like an idiot. 

"You don't know what it is, do you? Take my advice, Joey. Stay in your lane. My dead man's switch predates you having pubic hair. Does daddy even know you're here? If he wants it, he's going to have to do better than you," I said, walking out the study's door. 

"What dead man's switch? Nobody tells me anything," Joey whined. "And it's Joseph, damn you."

Leaving my apartment for the last time made this whole thing real. I had really left home. I was really going to try and strong arm my father, the devil. 

Catching a cab in New York City is one of my favorite things to do. Especially now that Don Angelo would probably be taking possession of my car too. If I got my clothes and books back, I'd call that a win. Now that daddy had made his first move, it was time I made mine. 

After getting into the cab and giving the cab driver an address, I took my phone out of my pocket and called my portfolio manager. 

"Sell everything," I said, then hung up the phone. 

While I sucked at being a barista, I did it anyway because I always knew this day would come. A time when I would have to take care of myself. So while daddy paid for NYU, I took all my pay checks and invested every last cent. Once I sold everything, I would have just enough to carry me through the remainder of my time at NYU. Now there was just one more thing to do before I could cut ties with the mafia, with daddy, for good. 

I scrolled through my contacts, found daddy's number and called him.

"Hello daddy," I said, my voice less stable than it had been just moments before with Joey. 

"Ciao erede," came Don Angelo's voice. 

"Not anymore," I said, a chill going down my spine. 

What I had done was a betrayal but what I was about to say would be unforgivable. I thought about Scott's face when he told Willow I was in the mafia. I just wanted him to look at me the way he used to again. This was a step in that direction. 

"You think I stole from you? You're only half right. It's so much bigger than you think. I have seven years worth of it, all recreated from memory. If anything happens to me or Scott or anyone even remotely close to me, it all goes to the FBI," I somehow managed to get out, exhaling hard once I had said my piece. 

"So this is your move, bambina," said Don Angelo, his voice controlled, methodical, charismatic. "This is why you're my heir."

"Your move, Don Angelo," I said, refusing to back down. "Hear me though. If you try to destroy my life, I'm taking you and everything you've built down with me."

I hung up the phone and almost dropped it due to my hands shaking. When we rocked up to the campus, I was still trying to calm myself down. 

I paid the fare and got out of the cab. Blending into a crowd always calmed me down. NYU had become my safe haven. When everything was falling apart around me, I would make my way to the library and hit the books. Learning new knowledge was my favorite type of entertainment. 

As I made my way up the steps of the library, a familiar face came into view. 

"Beat you here," said Scott, his hands stuck into his pockets. 

"Not now Scott," I said, walking right past him and entering the building.