Page 115 of The Mafia King's Reign
"You ran," I say quietly.
"We ran. The night before my wedding to Giovanni, Marco and I disappeared. We had to become completely different people. Isabella Castellano ceased to exist. I became Maria. I changed my last name a couple of times, but then, when I married your father, I took the Mareno last name. We moved constantly for years, always looking over our shoulders, until we eventually settled here and built a life." She meets my eyes. "I thought we'd escaped. I thought the past couldn't touch us anymore."
"But it did," Sofia whispers.
"Your father got involved with the mafia again. I honestly still don’t know how this happened but he did, and he made promises that he could not keep." Mama's voice hardens. "And the Vitales never forgot what I did. What we did. When Salvatore took over the family a couple of years ago, he found us.
Found your father. Made him work off his debt in secret. I was afraid the moment they found us that you were at risk, honey," she reaches over and touches my chin. “But your dad insisted Salvatore wasn’t interested in you and that the debt was forgiven. But he was wrong.”
"Dad messed up again," I finish. "And Salvatore came to collect."
"With you as payment." Mama reaches across to take my hand. "The bride that should have been me, forty years ago. History correcting itself, as they see it."
Sofia looks horrified. "Val, you're being “forced” into this? This whole time, you've been there against your will? Oh my God!"
“It started that way,” I say carefully. “The contract. The arrangement. Yes, I didn’t have a choice.”
I swallow. “But Sofia…” I trail off, searching for the right words. “Things have changed.”
“Changed how?” Her expression flickers, then drains of color. “He fell in love with me, and… I fell in love with him. We’re in love Soph.”
“Oh my God. You have Stockholm syndrome.” She slaps a hand over her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”
“No, Soph. You know me.” I shake my head. “You know it would take more than two months for me, of all people, to develop Stockholm syndrome. Come on.” I hesitate, then force the words out. “Salvatore is just… different. Yes, he kidnapped me—”
“He kidnapped you?” she shouts, then freezes, eyes wide. She lowers her voice to a furious whisper. “He kidnapped you?”
She whirls toward our mother. “Mom, he kidnapped her, and we’re just standing here tasting wedding cake like this is normal? We need to call the police, now, before he gets back.”
My mother and I exchange a look. Then she reaches for Sofia’s hands, her voice calm but unyielding.
“Honey,” she says softly, “I know this feels insane to you. But this was my world for a long time. This is just how it works in the Cosa Nostra.”
She holds Sofia’s gaze. “The men take what they want. And it’s the women who learn how to keep them in line.”
A beat.
“I know how it sounds. But believe it or not, your sister is safe with him.”
Sofia’s mouth opens. Closes.
“He loves her,” my mother continues. “I can see it. And when a mafia king falls in love…” Her voice drops. “He’ll burn down the entire city to keep her safe. And in his arms.”
She turns to me then, studying my face with a tenderness that nearly breaks me.
“What I saw today wasn’t a woman being held against her will,” Mama says gently. “The way he looks at you,cara. The way you look at him. The way you speak the same words at the same time.”
She shakes her head slowly.
“That’s not an arrangement anymore.”
Her eyes soften.
Sofia’s voice drops. “You’re saying you accept this?”
“No,” Mama says calmly. “If your sister wanted to escape, I’d already be planning it.”
She doesn’t look at Sofia when she adds, “Right now.”
