03. "Meeting the Don"

Emma

After a long journey inside that car, I struggle to maintain my lucidity, but the voices continue to echo in my mind, like a constant disturbing buzz. My mind wrestles between the need to face reality and the desire to escape into a mental refuge. The images of my father's worried expression as the men tore me away from his presence remain ingrained, a painful memory that haunts me.

Finally, the car comes to a stop, and silence settles, broken only by the sound of doors opening. I feel hands guiding me out of the vehicle, and the blindfold is removed from my eyes. The daylight dazzles my senses for a moment, but soon I find myself in a place that seems to be Don's mansion, an equally dark and intimidating setting. The oppression around me is almost palpable.

"Move, girl," he muttered.

"Son of a bitch," I whispered angrily.

"What did you say?!" he glared at me.

"Nothing."

He led me to a beautiful place; the mansion rises like a monument to his wealth and absolute control. It's a bold fusion of classical architecture and modern elements, creating a unique atmosphere of luxury and oppression. This was a vast and isolated property; the mansion was surrounded by meticulously manicured gardens but also by a sense of inaccessibility as if there was no one in this place.

I observe everything around me, which fills me with panic and fear of what awaits me.

My eyes finally adjust to the light, and that's when I see him. A tall and imposing man, wearing a sleek black suit, very handsome, with casually styled black hair and eyes as blue as the ocean, stands before me. His gaze is piercing, and a shiver runs down my spine as he examines me from head to toe as if he could read every thought of mine.

"Emma," he says, his voice firm and calculated. "Welcome to my mansion."

My vocal cords felt frozen, and I, who always had answers at the tip of my tongue, could hardly articulate a response. His eyes hold me captive, and my heart races as I try to gather the courage to face him.

"I am Andrew, better known as DeLuca," he continues, his unwavering expression. "I know you're confused, but I want you to understand your situation. From now on, I'll dictate the rules."

His tone is surprisingly calm, which only heightens my unease. I want to scream, to run, but I'm paralyzed by fear and uncertainty.

"You're here because your father owes me a debt," Andrew continues, his voice maintaining an eerie calmness. "A debt he couldn't pay. Now, he's no longer the focus. You are, Ragazza."

My lips tremble as I try to form words. "What... what do you want from me?"

Andrew smiles in an almost condescending way. "You're the guarantee that he'll fulfill his debt. A valuable guarantee, I'd say." You'll be mine as long as I want you to be, I've been observing you for so long...

My hands are cold and trembling, and my mind races for an exit, for a solution. But it seems all options are blocked, every step I could take has already been planned, and foreseen.

"Understand, Emma," he continues, his eyes delving deep into mine. "You have two choices. You can stay here, under my protection, and ensure your father keeps breathing. Or you can try to escape, but believe me, that would be a pretty foolish choice."

A sense of helplessness engulfs me. I'm cornered, with no way out. His words echo in my mind, and tears start streaming down my face.

"Whatever your choice, know that I'm giving you two options," he says, his expression slightly softening. "But I'm not someone you can deceive either. Think carefully, Emma."

Andrew's words resonate within the mansion, an echo of my concerns and fears. My heart pounds hard in my chest as I struggle to comprehend the magnitude of the situation I find myself in. Don's mansion, a place where power and danger intertwine, seems to be the epicenter of a world I barely understand.

As my gaze remains fixed on Andrew, my mind desperately races for alternatives. The choice he imposes on me is like a tight knot in my throat, choking me with the grim reality that stretches ahead.

I was trapped. If I fled, my father would die, and probably I would too.

"I understand this is a frightening situation for you, no one deserves to have a crappy father, right?" he says, his voice sounding provocative, almost as if he's trying to get under my skin. "But it's also an opportunity. An opportunity for you to do the right thing and help your father."

My mind oscillates between anger, fear, and determination. My father, whose tormented face I can't forget, is at the core of all this. The idea of leaving him in Don's hands is unthinkable, but I also know that challenging Andrew could result in even more devastating consequences.

How can he put our lives in danger like this? Has he not thought about the consequences?

"What happens if I decide to stay?" I ask, my voice trembling but firm. "What do you expect from me?"

Andrew watches me for a moment as if assessing my sincerity. "If you choose to stay, you will be my contracted wife for a year; your father has a whole year to pay me the debt, or well... he dies."

His words are intricate, laden with veiled promises and unspoken secrets. Yet a glimmer of hope appears when he mentions that I need to stay for only a year. Maybe I could find a way to leave after a year.

"But know that trying to escape won't be a safe option," he adds, his expression hardening again. "I have eyes and ears everywhere. You'd be found, and the consequences would be... unpleasant."

I swallow hard, absorbing each word. My mind is in turmoil, my heart in conflict. Andrew offers a glimpse of a life I might still have here, while threatening me with the horror of the unknown if I dare defy him.

"So, Emma, what will your choice be?" he asks, his eyes fixed on mine as if seeking an answer from the depths of my soul.

I take a deep breath, trying to find the strength needed to make a decision that will shape my destiny. My father, the debt, the possibility of limited freedom. All of it dances before my eyes, like pieces of a chaotic puzzle.

He takes pleasure in toying with me, knowing I have no real choice, and he's playing with words.

"I..." My voice trembles, but this time, there's a hint of determination. "I'll stay."

Andrew tilts his head slightly as if approving of my choice. "A wise choice, Emma. Now, let's ensure you won't betray me, then I'll take care of the contract."

He gestures, and one of the men who escorted me here steps forward. I feel a mixture of fear and apprehension as they lead me into a room filled with screens.

"Mr. DeLuca," the man approaches, citing what I believe to be Andrew's surname. "May I proceed?" he gestures to the screens.

He nods, and the man activates more than seven screens at once, all showing my father's workplace, our house, my former job, and all the places I've frequented. Chills run down my spine instantly. This man was bizarre.

"So, you know already, if you betray me, unfortunately, I won't be held responsible for my actions, dear Emma. Now you'll be my wife."

In one day, I'm just a waitress serving orders in a diner, the next, I'm handed over to the worst man I could have ever imagined meeting, the mafia Don.

I don't know what I will do from now on.