Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Antonella
Isit on the edge of the couch, watching my father pace. Back and forth. Back and forth. His footsteps are the only sound in the room. That and the tick of the grandfather clock Mama loved so much.
Three in the morning. The Sartoris left two hours ago. We've been sitting here ever since.
Claudio stands by the window, arms crossed, jaw tight. He hasn't looked at Papa since Lorenzo and Nico walked out the door.
"We could run," Papa says. His voice is thin. Desperate. "I have contacts in Miami. Old friends who might—"
"Run where?" Claudio's voice cuts through the room like a blade. "With what money? In what car? The Sartoris own half of Chicago. You think they won't find us?"
Papa stops pacing. His shoulders slump.
I've never seen him look so old. So small. The man who promised us everything would be okay after our mother died.
He lied.
He's been lying for years.
"There has to be another way," Papa says. "I'll talk to them. Negotiate. Maybe if I—"
"Negotiate?" Claudio laughs. It's an ugly sound. "You gambled away two million dollars. You put our family in debt to the most dangerous people in the city. And now you want to negotiate?"
"Claudio." My voice is quiet. Tired. "Stop."
He turns to me. His eyes are red. From anger or exhaustion, I can't tell.
"Stop? Antonella, do you understand what's happening? Do you understand what he's done?"
I understand.
I've understood for years.
Every time the bills piled up. Every time the creditors called. Every time Papa disappeared for days and came back with empty pockets and hollow promises.
I understood.
I just didn't want to believe it.
"This is the moment," Claudio says. He turns back to Papa, his voice dropping low. Dangerous. "This is the moment to think about whether it was worth it. All those nights at the tables. All those bets. All those lies."
Papa flinches.
"Because now we have to work for them. Our family. Our business. Everything Mama built. Gone. Under their control." Claudio's hands curl into fists at his sides. "And one of my sisters has to marry some freak from their family."
The word hangs in the air.
Freak.
I don't know which Sartori brother they mean. I don't know anything about them except their reputation. Dangerous. Powerful. Ruthless.
And one of them wants a wife.
"What's going on?"
Gianna's voice comes from the doorway.
I turn. She's standing there in her pajamas, hair messy from sleep, eyes wide with confusion. She looks so young. So innocent.
Nineteen years old.
Still a child in so many ways.
"Nothing." I rise from the couch, moving toward her. "Everything's okay. Go back to bed."
"I heard yelling." Her gaze moves past me to Claudio. To Papa. "Why is everyone awake? What happened?"
"Gianna—"
"Tell me." Her voice sharpens. "I'm not a child. Tell me what's going on."
I look at Claudio. He looks at Papa. Papa looks at the floor.
No one speaks.
The silence stretches. Gianna's expression shifts from confusion to fear.
"Someone say something," she whispers.
I take a breath.
"Papa owes money," I say. "A lot of money. To the Sartori family."
Gianna's face goes pale. Everyone in Chicago knows the Sartoris.
"How much?" she asks.
"Two million."
She sways. I reach out to steady her, but she pulls back.
"Two million? How is that possible? How could he—" She stops. Her eyes find Papa. "You promised. After Mama's funeral, you promised you'd stop."
Papa doesn't answer.
He doesn't have to.
"The Sartoris want payment," I continue. My voice sounds distant. Like it belongs to someone else. "They want our family to work for them. The business. Claudio. Everything."
"And?" Gianna's voice trembles. "What else?"
I hesitate.
"Antonella." Claudio's warning comes too late.
"They want one of us to marry into their family."
Gianna's hand flies to her mouth.
"No," she breathes. "No, they can't—we can't—"
"I'll do it."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Everyone turns to me.
Claudio's face twists. "Antonella, no."
"I'll do it," I repeat. Stronger this time. "I'll marry whoever they want. I'll clear the debt."
"You can't." Claudio crosses the room in three strides. He grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. "You can't ruin your life because of him."
He jerks his head toward Papa.
"Because of his mistakes. His gambling. His lies." Claudio's grip tightens. "You've already given up everything for this family. College. Your future. Your life. You can't give them this too."
"What choice do I have?"
"There's always a choice."
"Is there?" I pull away from him. "Look around, Claudio. Look at where we are. Look at what's left." I gesture at the room. The house that's probably not even ours anymore. "If I don't do this, what happens? They take everything anyway. And maybe they take more. Maybe they take Gianna."
Gianna makes a small sound.
"I won't let that happen," I say. "She's nineteen. She has her whole life ahead of her. She deserves a chance to live it."
"And you don't?"
I look at Claudio. At the desperation in his eyes. At the way he's trying so hard to protect me.
He's twenty-six years old. My older brother. He should be the one making these decisions. He should be the one holding this family together.
But he's not.
He never has been.
"This is what's going to happen," I say.
My voice is calm. Steady. The voice I use when I'm paying bills we can't afford.
When I'm negotiating with creditors. When I'm holding everything together with my bare hands.
"I'm going to marry whoever the Sartoris choose.
The debt gets cleared. Our family survives. "
"Antonella—"
"This isn't a discussion." I hold up my hand. "This is a decision. My decision. And it's made."
Claudio's jaw works. He wants to argue. I can see it in every line of his body.
But he doesn't.
Because deep down, he knows I'm right. He knows there's no other way.
"Now," I continue, "we all need to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. We'll need to be ready when the Sartoris come back."
Gianna is crying. Silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
I cross to her. Pull her into my arms. She's taller than me, but right now she feels so small. So fragile.
"It's going to be okay," I whisper into her hair. "I promise. Everything is going to be okay."
She doesn't believe me.
I don't believe me either.
But it's what she needs to hear.
"Go to bed," I tell her. "Try to sleep. I'll handle everything in the morning."
She pulls back. Wipes her eyes. Nods.
Then she's gone. Footsteps on the stairs. The soft click of her bedroom door.
I turn to Claudio.
"You too."
"I'm not leaving you alone with him." He glares at Papa, who still hasn't moved from his spot by the window. Still hasn't said a word.
"Claudio." I put my hand on his arm. "Please. I need you to rest. I need you to be strong tomorrow. For Gianna. For me."
He searches my face. Looking for something. I don't know what.
Whatever he finds, it's enough.
"Fine," he says.
He hesitates. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead.
"You're too good for this family," he murmurs. "You always have been."
Then he's gone too.
Just me and Papa.
I should say something. Scream at him. Cry. Demand to know how he could do this to us. How he could gamble away everything Mama worked so hard to build.
But I don't have the energy.
I'm so tired.
"Antonella." Papa's voice is hoarse. Broken. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant—"
"I know." I cut him off. "Go to bed, Papa."
"I'll fix this. I'll find a way to—"
"There's nothing to fix." I meet his eyes. See the shame there. The guilt. The weakness that's always been hiding beneath the surface. "I'm fixing it. Like I always do."
He flinches.
"Go to bed," I repeat. "We'll talk in the morning."
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Then he shuffles past me, shoulders hunched, head down.
The stairs creak under his weight.
I wait until I hear his bedroom door close.
Then I sink onto the couch.
My hands are shaking. I didn't notice until now.
I press them flat against my thighs. Force myself to breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
This is what I do. This is who I am.
The one who holds everything together. The one who sacrifices. The one who fixes.
Mama used to call me her little general. Always organizing. Always planning. Always taking care of everyone else.
She didn't know it would come to this.
She didn't know I'd have to sell myself to save our family.
I close my eyes.
Marriage to a stranger. A Sartori. The most powerful family in Chicago.
It should terrify me.
And it does. A little.
But I'm not stupid.
I've been thinking since Lorenzo and Nico walked out that door. Turning the pieces over in my mind. Trying to understand.
They could take everything we have. The business. The house. Our labor. They could work us to the bone for the next twenty years and still not recover two million dollars.
But they don't want that.
They want a wife.
Why?
Lorenzo mentioned their father. Giuseppe Sartori. An old friendship with Papa. But that's not enough to explain this. The Sartoris don't make decisions based on sentiment. They're businessmen. Criminals. Every move they make has a purpose.
So what's the purpose here?
I don't know yet.
But I will.
Because if I'm going to marry into that family, I'm going to understand exactly what I'm walking into. I'm going to know their secrets. Their weaknesses. Their plans.
I'm not just going to be a transaction.
I'm going to be a player.
Mama taught me that. Before she died. Before everything fell apart.
Never let them see you as weak, Antonella. Never let them think you're just a pretty face. You're smarter than all of them. Use it.
I will, Mama.
I promise.
I rise from the couch. My legs are steadier now. My hands have stopped shaking.
Tomorrow, the Sartoris will come back. They'll tell us which brother I'm supposed to marry. They'll lay out their terms.