12. Matilde
Matilde
Heart in my mouth, I softly knock on the faded green door, one of many apartments in this worn-looking building. “This is a bad idea,” Primo mutters. “Nico will kill me, slowly and painfully, if something happens to you.”
I shoot him a glare. “Signore Morelli is too busy to worry over what a servant does in her spare time,” I say in Italian.
Busy with another mafia war on the horizon that will rob me of Gia and Caterina.
I didn’t even get to enjoy a proper visit with Gia the last time we met because of Nico’s interruption.
Ritchie Barzetti got what he deserved in my opinion, but his brother demanded blood, and now the Chicago Trio will fight the men of Las Vegas.
Men and revenge, driven by pride. It makes me angry.
But what’s worse is that after I shared something so personal and felt so vulnerable with him that night, he has not mentioned it again. Even if I prefer not speaking of my abduction, his silence after I bared my soul wounded me deeply.
It’s not that I wish to use Primo, and I certainly don’t want Nico to hurt him, but I’ve been waiting for this chance.
The new Capo is tied up with some huge virtual meeting between the three ruling cities of the Trio today.
The twins are with their grandmother who is preoccupied with the old Capo’s health. I asked if I could go to the movies.
Choking back the horrible memories, I went to The Gentleman’s Post instead, climbing the stone steps on wobbly legs.
The guard at the door had shaken his head with disapproval at Primo but let us inside the opulent establishment where my mother had once worked and where she died.
I’d nearly lost my courage until I’d spoken to the lady in charge.
“That whore probably made up an address to be rid of us.”
“Her name was Cheryl, and she told us where to find Mrs. Esposito. My sister might be here, too,” I finish in a whisper.
With a beleaguered grimace, Primo lifts his own hand, firmly knocking five times. “No one’s answering. We should-”
The door opens, and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest when I stare into the same eyes that stare back at me from every mirror. “Maddalena?” I murmur, thunderstruck.
Her dark eyebrows draw together with curiosity before she glances at Primo. Having grown up with my father, Primo doesn’t frighten me, but the sight of a Made Man on her doorstep has my twin sister shrinking back and attempting to shut the door again. “I didn’t do anything.”
Primo deftly catches the door before she can close it, and the words come spilling out of my mouth. “No, wait! We mean no harm! My name is Matilde Cerniglia! I don’t know if you know about me, but I come a long way to find-”
My words are cut off when she shrieks and dashes forward, crushing me in an embrace.
***
Through teary eyes, I keep drinking her in, wondering if she’ll disappear in a puff of smoke. Primo reluctantly agreed to wait outside. I wanted privacy, and it was clear he made Maddalena nervous. Her connection to the mafia is more peripheral than what I grew up knowing.
Her foster mother, Mrs. Esposito isn't home, but I would like to meet her. I’m curious what Nico’s dealings with her could be, but that’s not what matters most now. I want to know Maddalena.
“You knew about me?” I ask.
Maddalena nods. “Mom first told me when I was seven. She would get sad sometimes and drink too much. She’d talk about him then.”
She would talk about our father while he never told me anything until his dying day. Thinking about what he robbed us of, I hang my head, wishing I could ask him more and understand why.
“Was he terrible to you?” Maddalena asks.
Reflecting on my childhood, I shake my head. “No. He was stern, but he did not hit. He gave me a good life, and I knew love.” His love. My stepmother had no love to give me, but I don’t hate her for that.
“I always pictured him as cruel,” my sister hums. It hurts to realize he was, in ways I never knew. “Did he have other children? With your stepmother?”
“No.” I don’t know the reason. I never asked and will probably never know. I feel so cheated. “Did she?”
“Mom didn’t make that mistake again,” Maddalena scoffs, her tone jaded.
“We had a birthday recently,” I mention, trying to cheer us both up.
Maddalena grins. “We did. Legal at last. We should celebrate together, shouldn’t we?” I nod, loving the idea. Zeta gave me a phone for my birthday, so we’re able to exchange numbers and schedules. “What else did you get?” she asks.
I wasn’t thinking of presents, but I hold up my wrist. “This bracelet.” My heart still flips when I recall Nico doing that.
“And a party.” I feel bad the instant the words are out of my mouth.
I’m living in a mansion and attending a fancy private school while Maddalena lives in this shabby apartment and works more than she attends class.
“Is that real gold? And real pearls?” Maddalena asks, inspecting the bracelet. I nod, still feeling ashamed, but she jumps to her feet, opening her closet door. “I got these clothes and shoes for mine.”
My eyes boggle at the multiple shoeboxes, recognizing the expensive designer brands from the De Luca ladies’ extensive collections. The dresses are beautiful, too. Couture for a poor high school student? “Who gave you these?”
“One of the men whose house I clean. You’re the oldest,” she says, distracting me from her answer.
I blink, never considering that. “By how much?”
“Ten minutes. You’re prettier, too.”
“No, you are beautiful, Maddalena.” We’re not identical, but there’s no denying we’re sisters.
“That’s what he says,” she whispers, her cheeks flushing.
“Who?”
She doesn’t reply. Deciding neither of us should waste time talking about boys, we keep sharing other things.
“What was our mother like?” I ask, my throat clogged with fresh tears.
“Kind… mostly. Sad… often. She made good money, but Mrs. Esposito said the burial was expensive and whores don’t carry life insurance policies.
She lets me work to pay off what she’s spent on my upkeep since Mom died.
I’m working on my own arrangements now, too.
Soon, I’ll be free of any debt and able to afford my own place. ”
I keep my mouth closed, but something doesn’t sound right to me. If our mother worked for the Trio, shouldn't they have paid for her burial? Why would Maddalena have to pay her foster mother to live here? Wasn't she the one that should be looked after? I worry my sister has been taken advantage of.
“I heard that she died after I got here. I was so sad. I imagine it was much worse…”
“The worst night of my life,” Maddalena says, solemnly. “They wouldn’t let me see her body, but I’ve heard stories.” She shudders, and I scooch closer until I’m holding her.
“One of the men she… entertained?”
“Yes, he tortured her before he killed her.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died, too. I’m surprised you work for Nico Morelli, Matilde.”
“Why?” I ask, wondering what he has to do with any of this.
“Oh, I know he’s the Capo, and girls like us have to go where we’re told, but it’s just that… It’s his fault that man came to The Gentleman’s Post that night. It’s just as much his fault that our mother is dead.”