Trapped In A Mafia Marriage

e one that spun my soul into symphonies. My husband, Don Dan

ning that every minute we delayed ri

our ten-year-old son, N

lm. "Mamma is strong. She'll understand the sacrifice. Besid

ust beginning. They needed my jealousy, my tears, my pain, to feed their sick

cruelty for a test. I finally saw it for what it was: a

m of the stairs, I heard

really crying. She

n the hospital, I took the papers he brought. In our world, a Don's wife doesn't lea

pte

sia

and, the one that spun my soul into symphonies. My hu

th fear, had tried to explain to Dante. "Mrs. Rossi's injury is a crush. The nerves, the bon

, the scent of antiseptic failing to mask the iron tang of his power. He ran the Rossi family, a sprawling empir

d mess of flesh and bone pinned beneath the twisted metal of our car. He looked at our ten-yea

ico?" Dante asked, hi

aised on a diet of twisted loyalty, taught that love was a thing to be tested, to be proven through pain. He believed my jealousy, my sufferin

l understand the sacrifice. Besides," he added, a flicker of something calculating in his eyes, "if she's in

e. He placed a hand on Nico's shoulder, a silent commendation for correctly interpreting the brutal laws of their world

to a dull, flat hum. I watched them turn away, Dante's broad back a wall of indifference, Nico trotting to keep up. I saw them through

s of this concrete fortress, shriveled and died in that moment. It wasn't a dramatic explosion

d sharp as a diamond. I will get out. I will make th

"Severe nerve damage... loss of fine motor control... permanent." My car

Nico continued their game, circling me like sharks sensing blood, waiting for the

idn't

played the part of the dutiful Don's wife. And every night, I avoided them. My lawye

usually avoided, my fingers brushed against a loose panel behind a bo

r weapons. It was a room. A small, hidden g

, genuine smile on my lips. Me weeping after one of their cruel tests. Me in the shower, water sluicing over my body. Th

sity in his eyes, the way he looked at me not as an artist, but as a masterpiece he had to acq

a smaller scale. Scraps of my clothing, a lock of my hair snipped while I slept, a diary filled with childi

love, however twisted, shattered. T

the nightstand. I methodically tore every picture of us, of our family, into tiny, un

celebratory dinner. Seraphina had moved into one of the guest wi

Nico announced at the dinner table, pushing his food around h

wer. I just

ated being ignored. It was a challenge to his abs

opinion," I sai

irked. "Oh, let her be, Dante. She's

for a reaction. I gave them nothing. My heart was a frozen lake. They

ergic to a specific type of dark chocolate, an allergy that caused anaphylactic shock. He had

anticipation. It was another test. A loyalty test to the death.

e touched my lips.

my chest, completely unrelated to the chocolate. My breath hi

a second, it looked like genuine concern

t my finger on this wine glass!" She held up her

's eyes vanished, replaced by the familiar mask of performative care for his

alright,

see, let

able. I couldn't breathe. My body slumped forward, my head

took me was Dante's voice, thick with ann

Alessia. Stop b