Mafia Puppet

THE RULES

“Mafia is family.” — Antonio Giordano, Mafia Puppet

one | if you’re deaf, blind, and mute, you’ll live a hundred years in peace. Stick to omertà, the code of silence, if you want to see tomorrow.

two | don’t meddle in another brother’s business. Mind your own.

three | don’t start a fight you can’t win. Stand with the Family or face hell.

four | be a man of honor—don’t touch, see, or feel another brother’s woman. Respect your elders.

five | keep your ears and eyes open, but your mouth shut. Don’t betray your brothers or enemies. Take your punishment like a man of honor.

six | have class and independence; don’t beg.

seven | you’ll see hell before you betray our secrets.

eight | never get involved with drugs.

THE PENALTY

death.

THE RITUALS

You become one of us with a prick of a needle at the base of your thumb, joining your blood on a burning card passed around to all.

You are a man of honor and you are our brother.

Amen.

“You belong to him, and you better remember that. Don’t lose your virtue unless you want to lose your life.” Those are the exact words my father told me years ago. It felt unnecessary when he and his bodyguards were always on my tail.

“He’s a good man, daughter, and he’s the Don now. He’ll be gentler if you do as he says,” my mother said when my father broke the news to her. She didn’t waste a second advising me, and I didn’t expect anything different.

I finished my education even though I knew I’d never need it. Usually, a woman is valued more with a higher degree.

In the Family, that’s far from the truth. It’s seen as demeaning in front of potential suitors, lowering her worth because she wants to do more than just coddle her husband. I’m one of those demeaning women. My father didn’t care. Not because he loved me, but because I didn’t need a suitor anymore. I already had one, and I wore his ring like a collar around my neck.

“I can’t believe we’ve already graduated from university.” My best friend, Sophia Magritte, is buzzing with excitement, pulling me out of my gloomy thoughts.

I’m grateful for it. Anxiety won’t help me avoid something that’s written in my fate. I accepted it years ago. Still, a somber expression clouds my face. I know what’s coming next—something that’s been delayed for so long is finally about to happen. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. He’s close.

“We should party! I’ll introduce you to a bunch of handsome men who would die for you,” she says dramatically, grinning widely.

“No, I can’t. You know that,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a beautiful twenty-four-year-old woman who hasn’t even been to a club yet, let alone had a girl's night out. I always have to go alone or with other people, many of whom I don’t even like. But not this time, Missy. I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

Sophia is one stubborn woman. She’s fiery, just like her red hair, and has the most beautiful eyes—one blue and one green. She’s loyal, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to burn the world down for the people she loves.

Sometimes it overwhelms me; her stubborn nature always pushes me into doing things that get me into trouble.

She doesn’t know that, of course, and I would never tell her, so I just try to avoid such situations.

Usually, it works.

However, I also know that I’m easily replaceable, and while part of me would be glad for it, I know my life is only easier because of the ring hidden under my shirt. If I lose him, I lose the safety I feel whenever I step outside. He’s my only future, and it’s simply my good luck that my betrothed himself wanted to tie the knot late—probably to enjoy his bachelorhood until he eventually has to conceive an heir. Either way, I’ve had time to mature and understand the severity of my position. I’m no longer prone to making stupid mistakes. It’s not worth it. I’ve given up trying.

“Why are you zoning out again? I swear to God, you’re always so sketchy. You never stay after school. You have weirdass bodyguards following you. It’s like someone’s going to jump you out of nowhere, and then not to mention you’re always so stiff. I admit, you’re filthy rich, but don’t you think this is a little extra? A businessman shouldn’t be this protective, or should I say possessive, about his daughter. Your dad needs to chill the fuck out.”

Well, that’s an understatement. I sigh. “It’s not like that, Sofie. My father is just strict. It’s normal,” I try to explain, but it’s in vain. Sophia has long caught onto my lies.

“Which is exactly why you should move out. You can afford to live on your own, right? I don’t even mind if you come to live with my family and me,” she offers before her nose scrunches up in disgust. “I’m just sick of your parents. They didn’t even come to your graduation.”

I ignore the small stab in my heart and look around to see if anyone heard. My father already told me to cut her off once my studies were over. He doesn’t need outsiders investigating us. He only allowed me a friend because he thought it would be even weirder if I was friendless.

If my bodyguards heard her comments, they would report it back to my father, who’s only looking for another reason to go on a rampage. With the FBI on the rise again, he’s being extra cautious, leaving us more under his watch.

I lift my chin, a hint of defiance in my posture. “I just can’t, okay? Don’t be so hardheaded.”

Sophia’s eyes soften with a sadness I wish I could erase. “Franci, you’re letting your life slip away by bowing to unfair demands and control. I don’t understand why you won’t stand up to your toxic family, but I wish you’d tell me. I’d understand, and I’d do everything in my power to help you. You know I can.”

She holds my hand, as if her touch could somehow break through my walls. I wish it could. I really do. She doesn’t know how much I want to let someone in, but I also know she wouldn’t understand. She’d run, just like everyone else. She wouldn’t get it. I’m not just obeying my father. I’m obeying the one I’m promised to, as always.

“There’s nothing to tell. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” I don’t wait for her to respond. I walk out of the grand university building, my high heels barely supporting my shaking body as I try to avoid another confrontation.

My ride is easy to spot. It’s a white speck in a sea of black. The sleek white limousine draws the attention of everyone nearby.

People are always puzzled by my lifestyle. After all, who in their right mind gets chauffeured around in a car that costs a small fortune? No one, except me, the rich girl. They must think I’m a snob.

“Where to?” Silvio asks in his rough voice, looking down at me from the open door.

“Home,” I reply, crossing my legs.

Silvio nods as if I’ve told him something he didn’t already know. We both know it’s a rhetorical question. Home is the only place I’m allowed to go, but Silvio has always been kind enough to let me feel like I have a choice. Even if it’s a false choice, it’s a choice nonetheless. It makes me feel respected, which is strange because my mother never receives any respect. My father’s men always touch her inappropriately, and no one cares. With me, however, they’re much more restrained.

I feel the car start to move as I turn my head to the side. I catch sight of my best friend watching the tinted car, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. I have to keep her safe and away from my world. She can’t know. Pretending to be the conservative rich daughter of a millionaire helps, but I know she has her suspicions. She’s not stupid, and I’m not very good at being discreet. It’s only a matter of time before she finds out.

It’s the right thing to do, I decide. Sophia needs to be kept out of this for her own safety and mine.

Home is anything but sweet, and my father never lets us forget it.

“Francesca, your father has some guests. Stay in your room,” my mother’s timid voice greets me.

She’s scared; I can’t blame her. It’s not the first time my father has had his allies over, and my mother’s small body is too weak to fight anymore.

Without a word, I head for my room upstairs. I don’t want to hear the noises. I don’t want to hear the screams. Even though I should be used to it by now, I’m not. It’s just as hard as the first time.

I grab my phone and AirPods, then start playing some slow, calming music. It drowns out my mother’s cries of shame. It drowns out my father’s satisfied laughter and the men’s disgusting grunts. It drowns out the reality I’m desperate to escape.

As night falls, I know my mother will be lying in the guest room, her body covered in bruises and her spirit nearly broken. I don’t go to comfort her. I don’t want to be seen by those vile men, let alone be touched by them.

My mother wouldn’t want me to come down, and that’s what I tell myself every time.