Chapter 1 #2
Papa walks around the desk to stand closer to me.
“Zita, you don’t understand what it was like back then.
Nicky had the power to destroy everything we built.
Our shipping contracts, our construction permits, and our political connections could have all disappeared with one phone call.
I had to make a choice between certain destruction and a future that protected both of us. ”
“A future that protected you,” I correct sternly. “I don’t remember being asked what I wanted.”
“You were twelve years old.” Papa’s voice rises slightly. “Children don’t make decisions about complex business arrangements.”
“And now I’m twenty-two and perfectly capable of making my own choices.” I gesture toward the contracts. “Except I don’t have any choices, do I? This is happening whether I agree or not.”
Papa doesn’t answer immediately. He walks to the window that overlooks our garden, where Mom used to grow tomatoes and basil before she left us. The view always made him nostalgic, back when he still talked about her without bitterness creeping into his voice.
“Tigran isn’t like his father,” he says finally. “He’s educated and sophisticated. He went to university in Moscow and studied business at Columbia. From what I hear, he’s trying to modernize the family operations and move away from the more violent aspects of his father’s methods.”
“How reassuring.” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “My future husband is only moderately involved in organized crime.”
Papa turns back to face me. “This marriage will give you more power and influence than you could ever have running Lo Duca Enterprises. The Belsky family controls resources that dwarf our little shipping company. You’ll have access to opportunities I could never provide.”
“Opportunities to do what? Launder money? Intimidate honest business owners? Help destroy more neighborhoods like ours?”
“Opportunities to build something better.” Papa’s voice takes on a passionate edge. “Tigran is young, intelligent, and reportedly interested in legitimizing more of the family business. With your education and his resources, you could transform the Belsky empire into something respectable.”
I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. Papa is talking about my arranged marriage like it’s a hostile corporate takeover where I’m supposed to civilize the barbarians through the power of love and good business sense. “You want me to reform the Russian Mafia through marriage?”
“I want you to make the best of the situation we’re in.
” Papa’s voice softens, and for a moment, he sounds like the man who used to read me bedtime stories and help me with my math homework.
“I know this isn’t what you planned for your life, Zita, but sometimes circumstances require us to adapt our expectations. ”
I look back at the contracts spread across his desk.
My entire future is reduced to legal language and binding signatures.
I’m facing marriage to a man I’ve never met, whose family destroyed everything I loved about my neighborhood, and a life tied to an organization built on fear and violence, no matter how sophisticated Tigran might be.
“When do I meet him?” I ask with resignation, which is the best I can manage right now.
“Tomorrow. He’s requested a private dinner to discuss the arrangements.” Papa seems relieved that I’m not fighting this harder. “I think you’ll find him more reasonable than you expect.”
“What if I don’t? What if we’re completely incompatible, or he turns out to be just as ruthless as his father?”
Papa doesn’t answer right away. When he finally speaks, his voice is gentle but inflexible. “Then you’ll make it work anyway. The contract doesn’t include provisions for personal compatibility, Zita. This is about family honor and business obligations, not romance.”
The finality in his words settles over me.
I’ve spent my entire life believing my education and intelligence would give me choices, and I could build a future based on my own abilities and decisions.
I’d pushed the existence of the contract to the back of my mind, somehow allowing myself to believe I’d find a way out, or Papa might do the decent thing and change his mind.
Tonight, I’m learning everything I thought I controlled was just an illusion. Papa has been planning this moment since I was twelve years old, and my feelings about it were never part of his calculations.
I walk back to the sofa and sit down, staring at the television, where they’re still discussing Nicky’s death and its implications for organized crime in the Midwest. The anchor mentions potential violence as rival factions compete for control, and I wonder if I’ll become a casualty in whatever war follows.
“There’s something else.” Papa’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “The wedding needs to happen quickly. Tigran wants to establish stability within the organization, and a public marriage ceremony will demonstrate that the old alliances remain strong.”
“How quickly?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
“Six weeks.”
Six weeks to prepare for a life I never wanted with a man I’ve never met, and to say goodbye to any dreams I had about choosing my own path before becoming Mrs. Tigran Belsky.
I close my eyes and try to imagine what that life will look like.
Will I live in some fortified compound surrounded by armed guards?
Will I have to pretend to love a man who makes his living through intimidation and violence?
Will I become another casualty of the Belsky empire, like Mrs. Petrucci, Mr. Rossi, and everyone else who got caught in their web?
“Zita.” Papa’s voice brings me back to the present. “I know this is difficult, but I need you to trust me. This marriage will protect you in ways you don’t understand yet.”
I open my eyes and look at him standing by his desk, surrounded by the contracts that will reshape my entire existence.
He genuinely believes he’s doing what’s best for me, which somehow makes it worse.
If he were obviously cruel or selfish, I could hate him cleanly.
Instead, I have to live with the knowledge that the man who raised me was willing to trade my freedom for his security, and he’ll never see anything wrong with that choice.
“I’ll meet him tomorrow,” I say finally, “But don’t expect me to be grateful for this opportunity.”
Papa nods, looking relieved that I’m not planning to run away or cause a scene. “Wear the navy dress you bought for graduation. It makes you look sophisticated and elegant.” His mouth twists. “Also too much like your mother, but it will project the right image.”
The mention of Mom hits me like a physical blow.
She left when I was six years old, abandoning me with Papa and his increasingly complicated business arrangements.
Now, I understand why. She must have seen what was coming and known Papa’s deals with men like Nicky Belsky would eventually cost us everything that mattered.
She chose to escape while she still could.
I don’t have that option. The contracts on Papa’s desk make it clear my life was never really mine to control. I was born into this world of obligations and alliances, and tomorrow, I’ll meet the man who represents my future whether I want one with him or not.
Standing up from the sofa, I walk toward the door without looking back at Papa or his documents. “I’m going to bed. I need to prepare for meeting my future husband.” The words come out angry with a hint of mockery.
Tonight, I’m going to grieve for the life I thought I was going to have, where I took over Lo Duca Enterprises, chose my own husband, and built my own future by choices I made.
In that life, I was more than just a contract clause in my father’s deal with the devil.
That life died tonight along with Nicky Belsky, and the only choice open to me is to start learning how to live in the one that’s left.