5

I heard a soft knock on the door and then someone calling my name. Every time someone called me “Mrs. Moretti,” it still felt so surreal, like I was living in a dream. I couldn’t believe I’d married someone like Marco Moretti—it all seemed too good to be true.

I stood up and turned to the door, expecting it to be Lucille, the woman Marco had introduced earlier. Unlike the last time we met, I was now dressed perfectly, no wrinkles anywhere.

Thinking about that moment made my cheeks flush with embarrassment, remembering how Marco had made me feel.

As expected, when I opened the door, Lucille was standing there. She smiled and greeted me politely.

"Sir Marco asked me to help you get familiar with everything you need to know as his wife. Shall we head to the study, Mrs. Moretti?"

"Please, just call me Maddie," I said. I wasn’t used to all these fancy titles.

She gave me a small, formal smile. "Alright, then, Ma’am Maddie."

It seemed like no matter how much I insisted, they were going to call me something formal, so I didn’t push it.

We walked to the study room, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Was this a class on how to get to know Marco and the Moretti family? On the desk were a bunch of files. Lucille motioned for me to sit in the office chair, so I did.

"These documents are all about the Moretti family and their associates," she said. "As Marco’s wife, it’s important for you to get familiar with all of it."

I was a little stunned at how many files there were.

"If you’d rather read them on a device, you can use the laptop or iPad," Lucille added. "Let me know if you have any questions."

I smiled at her, then glanced over at the documents, scanning the titles.

Moretti Mafia Organization.

Mafia?

My brain paused for a second. The mafia? The same mafia everyone talks about in the news?

I looked at Lucille, who was waiting for me to ask something.

Taking a breath, I almost spoke but held back.

"Marco’s... involved with a mafia? Is he actually part of it?" The question shocked me, but I kept my cool. There had always been something a little dark about Marco, even before I knew any of this.

"Yes, Madame," Lucille answered.

My heart raced even faster when I heard her answer. It was getting harder to swallow as I tried to wrap my head around Marco being involved in something like this.

"Just so you know, he's not just a member, Madame. He’s actually the leader of the organization."

If I thought I was shocked before, this was on a whole new level.

What had I gotten myself into? Marrying Marco was already strange enough since I knew so little about him, but now I was learning all this stuff about my husband?

I tried not to let my anxiety show. Instead, I nodded like everything was fine, even though my mind was in total chaos.

Marco, my husband, is the boss of a mafia!

"I’ll leave you to it now, Ma'am. If you need anything, just let me or Renzo know."

Once Lucille left, I stared at the huge pile of documents in front of me. I felt totally overwhelmed before I’d even started reading.

I was hit with the history of the organization, and honestly, it was a lot to take in. The endless names were starting to give me a headache. Did I really need to memorize all of them?

I got more interested when I saw that Marco's dad, Davide Moretti, was in charge. It hit me that the Moretti family had been in charge for three generations. But things seemed to change a bit when Marco's dad took over—his cousin, Mr. Roberto Moretti, was the boss before him. I got curious about what happened there.

I brushed it off and kept flipping through the pages. To my surprise, I found out more about Marco's background. Lucille was right—Marco was at the top. He was the mastermind. He was the one calling the shots.

As I kept reading, I learned about the people around him. Marcello Moretti, Marco's most trusted advisor, was the consigliere. I remembered him from our wedding—he was the best man. Like Marco, Marcello had that same distant vibe. Stefano Moretti was second in command, while Gabriele and Giuseppe Moretti were the underbosses.

I muttered to myself, "I’m kinda lost. Can’t put it all together."

I kept going, and next I got to the caporegimes—people who had major roles in the organization and looked after the lower-ranked members. That’s when I saw that Renzo and Lucille were listed as caporegimes under Marco. That finally clicked as to why they’d gotten me involved.

Feeling completely overwhelmed, I stood up and marked the page where I stopped. I also noticed info about other families who seemed to be close with the Moretti family. It became clear that I’d need to learn about these connections too.

The fact that Marco came from a family like this still felt surreal. I'd seen these types of people in movies, but to actually be part of this world was unsettling. I couldn’t ignore the fact that they were involved in illegal stuff, and it made me question what I was getting myself into.

As I headed to the kitchen to get some water, a sudden memory hit me, reminding me of how my father would always get angry whenever I tried to leave the room he kept me locked in. Even something as simple as getting a drink would set him off, and it always kept me on edge.

Without even thinking, my hand gripped the fridge door tightly, like I was trying to hold on to something to escape those awful memories. I shut my eyes, trying to push all the terrible stuff from the past out of my mind.

"Ma'am?"

I jumped, taking a step back instinctively, as if the person calling me was my father and I was about to be punished.

The housekeeper seemed shocked by my reaction, clearly not expecting me to be so on edge.

I took a deep breath, realizing I wasn’t at home anymore and my father couldn’t hurt me here. I was safe.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

I forced a smile, hiding the fear that still lingered. "I'm fine. Sorry, I just get a little jumpy sometimes." I gestured toward the fridge. "I was just going to grab some water. Is that okay?"

She looked a little surprised but nodded slowly.

"Of course, Ma'am. You're the lady of the house, no need for formalities. We would’ve brought water to your study if you’d called. Here, please." She handed me a cold glass of water with a smile.

I sat down on one of the high chairs at the counter, watching as she placed the glass in front of me.

"Before Sir Marco left, he told us to take care of anything you need, Ma'am. Don’t hesitate to ask us for anything. You’re the mistress of the house now. I’m sorry if I startled you earlier."

I held the glass, feeling the chill of the water.

Am I really the mistress now? Does that mean no one will stop me from eating or punish me for stupid things? Can I go out of my room without worrying about being criticized? Is this place safe from the yelling and hurt I used to know?

I realized that the people here were different. Marco was different from Papa, and that was a good thing.

I looked up at her and said, "Thanks. What’s your name?"

"My name is Maria, Ma'am," she replied.

I smiled again, and she smiled back. "Do you need anything else?" she asked.

I just shook my head. "No, thank you."

As the sun set, I couldn't help but feel excited. Dinner was ready, and I was sitting at the head of the table. It was a rare moment for me to eat with someone else. Usually, I ate alone—either because my father was never around or when he was, I was stuck in my room. Having dinner with Violet and Aunt Mildred felt like a real treat.

I quickly shook my head, pushing those memories aside. This was a new place, and I needed to stop thinking about the past. Even though I was still connected to Marco in some way, I was free from my father’s control. In this house, he had no power over me.

Feeling curious, I turned to Renzo, who was sitting next to me, and asked, "Where’s Marco?"

"He’s still in the office, Ma’am," Renzo replied.

I felt a wave of disappointment. Marco was still at the office? Why hadn’t he come home yet?

"Do you know when he’ll be back? I’d like to wait for him before we eat."

I really wanted to have dinner with my husband. I thought it might help us connect more if we made a habit of it.

"I’ll call Sir and find out, Ma’am."

I smiled at Renzo, hoping to build a good relationship with the people around me since I’d be seeing them a lot. But he didn’t smile back.

I waited patiently, still thinking about Marco. He hadn’t done anything to make me feel scared, but I couldn’t help the worry.

When Renzo came back, I was eager to hear what he had to say.

"Ma’am, Sir Marco won’t be able to come home yet. You should go ahead and eat," he said.

A sense of emptiness hit me, and suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore.

"Will he be home late? I can wait," I tried to reason.

"He asked that you start eating first, Ma’am," Renzo said.

I slumped back in my chair. Was I really going to have to eat alone, even here?