I spoke up after dinner. He was still seated in the same chair, pistol in hand, the TV flickering with an old Western no one cared about. My chest tightened with nervous rhythm.
“Do you remember what you promised me… on my eighteenth birthday?” I asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t glance at me. “Which promise?”
“That we’d travel together. You said that after the business stabilized, once our son was grown, we’d go on a cruise. Just us.”
“You’re insane,” Marcello scoffed, dark laughter threading his words. “A cruise? Look at yourself. You’re like a stick of dry bamboo—one gust of wind and you’d snap. You think the captain’s gonna roll out a red carpet for you? Bianca, he’d probably assume you’re bringing some walking bacteria aboard.”
“But today is—”
“Today is what?” He finally looked up. The weight of years pressed into his face, carving lines I hadn’t noticed before. “You’re not young anymore. The world won’t be kind to someone like you. You’re not Vivienne.”
Vivienne. My sister-in-law. His brother’s widow. Tall, blonde, perfect, like she stepped straight out of a magazine. Always poised, always judging, and Marcello never corrected her.
“She’s young,” he continued, voice clinical, almost bored. “Travels for business, attends every family function. Fits the image. But you—you’ve always been behind the scenes. That’s where you belong. The household. The family. Keeping it all running.”
And behind me, the twins laughed again. Innocent, cruel, oblivious.
I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in the sharp reality of it all. The cruise, the promise, the life that should have been mine—already belonged to someone else.
---
That night, after the clamor died and the family vanished into their rooms, I went to the bedroom. From the closet, I pulled out the old red suitcase—the one he had given me in Naples before our wedding.
Before everything twisted into what it had become.
I stared at my hands. They didn’t feel like mine anymore. Worn, tired, lined with years of unnoticed labor.
I had once been someone. A Conti. Daughter of a mafia king. Born with fire in my spine and gold on my tongue. I gave it all up for love. I renounced my own blood, believing Marcello’s love would be enough.
Now?
I was nothing but a ghost in this house.