1. Sofia
1
SOFIA
M y sisters and I file into Papa’s opulent study, our footsteps muffled by the plush Persian rug covering the gleaming marble floor. The room is a testament to his power and wealth, with its soaring coffered ceiling, walls paneled in rich mahogany, and floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes.
A massive fireplace of carved marble dominates one wall, the Marino family crest proudly displayed above the mantel. Papa’s imposing desk of polished mahogany is situated in front of the arched windows draped in heavy velvet, the panes overlooking the manicured grounds of our estate.
At twenty-one, I'm the eldest, and I lead the way, followed by Bianca, Chiara, and Mia. We rarely gather here unless Papa has something momentous to discuss. A sense of foreboding hangs heavily in the air.
Our father—the Don of the Marino Family—sits behind his massive mahogany desk in a high-backed leather chair, Mama at his side in an equally regal seat, clutching his hand in both of hers. Lines of strain mark Papa’s distinguished face, and Mama’s eyes are red-rimmed as if she’d been crying.
We take our usual armchairs arranged before the desk, waiting for our father to speak.
He clears his throat gruffly, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.
“My girls, I have terrible news to share with you today. I’ve been to see the doctor and…” His words catch. Mama squeezes his hand supportively, the light catching on the dazzling diamond of her engagement ring. “I’ve been diagnosed with stage-four pancreatic cancer. The prognosis is not good. I likely only have a few months left to live.”
Shocked silence fills the room for a long, horrible moment. Then all four of us burst into tears, leaping up to rush to Papa’s side.
“Papa, no! It can’t be true!” Mia, the youngest, sobs as she flings her arms around him.
“I’m so sorry, my darlings,” Papa says hoarsely, embracing us each in term. “If I could spare you this pain, I would.”
“Isn’t there anything the doctors can do?” Bianca demands through her tears. “Surgery, chemotherapy, radiation? Something, anything !”
Papa shakes his head sadly. “It’s too far advanced. Treatment would only prolong the inevitable and rob me of what little time I have left.”
Mama wipes at her damp cheeks, drawing a shuddering breath. “We have to be strong now, for your father. We must make the most of our time together as a family.”
“Your mother is right,” Papa agrees. “But I would be remiss not to make provisions for your futures as well. When I am gone, I fear the suitors and scoundrels I’ve kept at bay all these years will come circling like vultures, vying for your hands in marriage, seeking to take advantage. The thought of our family being torn apart…”
“We won’t let that happen, Papa,” I vow fiercely. “Our family is strong. We’ll protect each other, just like you’ve always protected us.”
“Of course we will,” Chiara agrees. “No one will ever come between us.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Papa says. “Nevertheless, your mother and I have come up with a plan to ensure your well-being after I’m gone.”
Papa takes a deep breath, his eyes misty as he looks at each of us in turn. “My darling girls, I have always done my best to protect you, to shield you from the harshness and cruelty of the world. And now, I must safeguard your futures, even when I am no longer here to watch over you myself.”
Mama dabs at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief, her lips trembling.
“I know it may seem old-fashioned, even unfair,” Papa continues, his voice rough with emotion, “but I believe the best way to ensure your well-being and keep our family strong is to find each of you a suitable husband, a good man from a respectable family who will love you, protect you, and provide for you in the manner you deserve.”
Fresh tears course down my cheeks at his words, my heart aching. Beside me, Mia sniffles and Chiara lets out a quiet sob.
“I don’t want you to think of this as a punishment or a cage,” Papa says. “I want you to be happy, to find love and companionship. I will do my utmost to find men I believe will be good matches for each of you.”
“Oh, Papa,” Bianca whispers, her voice choked. “We know you only want what’s best for us.”
He smiles at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My dearest hope is that I will have the strength and time to walk each of you down the aisle. To place your hands in those of the men I have chosen and know your futures will be secure, even when I am gone. It would mean… everything to me.”
A lump wells in my throat as the poignancy of his words sinks in. My vision blurs with tears as I imagine Papa, frail but beaming with pride, escorting us to our grooms, giving us away at the altar in his final act of love and devotion.
“We’ll make it happen, Papa,” I promise hoarsely. “No matter what it takes. We know you’ll find husbands for us. We want to make you proud.”
“You already make me proud, Sofia. Each and every day.” Papa reaches out to clasp my hand, his palm dry and papery against my skin. “I am sorry if my protectiveness has denied you a chance at love before now.”
I swallow hard, forcing a tremulous smile. “I know, Papa. I trust you. I trust that you’ll find a man who is worthy of our family.”
He squeezes my fingers, his gaze warm and loving. “You are so strong, my darling. So brave. I know you will face whatever comes with grace and courage.”
One by one, he embraces us all, murmuring words of comfort and affection. We cling to him, this man who has always been our rock, our defender, our hero. The man who now needs us to be strong for him.
As we leave the study, arms around each other, I catch my father’s eye. In that moment, a silent promise passes between us. A vow to uphold our family's honor, come what may. To face the future together, even when he can no longer lead the way.
* * *
After the emotional meeting with Papa, my sisters and I retreat to my bedroom to cry together and process his devastating news. We sit in a circle on the plush rug, passing around a box of tissues.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Mia sniffles, her eyes puffy and red. “Papa has always been so strong, so invincible in my eyes.”
“I know,” Chiara agrees, wiping her nose. “The thought of losing him…” She swallows hard, unable to finish.
“And now he wants to marry us off before he… before he dies,” Bianca says, twisting the damp tissue in her hands. “I know he means well, but the idea of him choosing our husbands…” She trails off, looking troubled.
“I never want to marry,” I declare vehemently, hugging a pillow to my chest. “I hate men. I would rather be alone for the rest of my life than tie myself to one of them.”
Bianca rolls her eyes. “You’re only saying that because you fell for a playboy jerk like Dominico Sicura. You can’t hold a grudge against the entire male sex just because he charmed his way into your pants, took your virginity, and then broke your heart.”
I flinch at the painful memory, my eyes stinging with fresh tears. Chiara puts a comforting arm around my shoulders.
“That’s not fair, Bianca,” she chides gently. “Dom was… very charming and attentive. Anyone could have fallen for him. Sofia loved him deeply. Of course she’s wounded by what he did.”
“What did he do, exactly?” Mia asks, looking between us curiously. As the youngest, she was only thirteen when my world was torn apart.
I take a shuddering breath. “He made me believe I was the only one for him. He said he would love me forever. I thought we would get married someday. But it was all a lie. He broke my heart and said I was foolish to believe he would ever marry someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” Bianca scoffs, blue eyes flashing. “You mean someone young, beautiful, and from the most powerful Family in the city? The nerve of that fucker! I always knew he was a jackass.”
“Well, I for one am glad Papa has protected us,” Chiara declares. “Imagine if we had all been seduced and abandoned like poor Sofia!” She looks at me apologetically, realizing how hurtful her words sound.
Mia nods as I squeeze Chiara’s hand in forgiveness. “Papa was wise to be so protective. But choosing our husbands for us…”
Bianca tosses her black hair over her shoulder, her eyes flashing. “I think it’s silly, Papa choosing our husbands. This isn’t the Middle Ages. We should be able to marry whoever we want! And what if we don’t want to get married? What if I want a career?”
“And who would you choose, B?” Chiara asks, arching a brow. “That Ambrosio boy you’ve been sneaking around with?”
Bianca’s cheeks flush, but she lifts her chin defiantly. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just marry whoever Papa picks and be done with it. As long as he doesn’t expect me to play the perfect little princess wife, I don’t really care who I end up with.”
I shake my head at her blasé attitude. Bianca has always been the rebellious one, the wild child. I worry that her devil-may-care approach to life will land her in trouble one day.
“I hope Papa chooses a kind man for me,” Chiara says softly, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “Someone like Dante.”
We all nod in agreement. Dante Tenebre is a close family friend, someone we’ve known since childhood as his father is our father’s righthand man. He’s nearly thirty, but he’s always been sweet and protective of us all, like a big brother.
“Dante would be a good husband,” Mia agrees. She sighs wistfully. “I trust Papa to find a good match for me too. I just wish…” Her voice catches and her eyes fill with tears again. “I just hope he lives long enough to walk me down the aisle like he wants, to see us all settled and happy.”
My heart clenches at the sorrow in her words, the pain we’re all trying so hard to be strong through. I reach out to pull Mia into a tight hug, blinking back my own tears.
“He will, Mia,” I promise fiercely. “Papa is strong. He’ll fight with everything he has. You know how stubborn he is. We’ll all get our dream weddings, with him right there by our sides.”
She clings to me, nodding against my shoulder. “You’re right. He has to be there. He just has to.”
Bianca and Chiara join in our embrace, the four of us holding each other close. Our father’s illness is a shadow looming over all our futures, but in this moment, our bond as sisters is a bright light holding the darkness at bay.
No matter what happens, no matter who we marry or what Papa's fate may be, we'll always have each other. Our love is the constant we can depend on, the glue that holds our family together.
As we draw strength and comfort from our shared embrace, I vow silently to do whatever it takes to make Papa’s wish a reality. If it means that much to him, I’ll marry a man of his choosing, a man who will be an asset to the Marino Family.
Not for love, but for duty and honor.
I just pray that Papa will be there to see it. To know that his daughters are provided for, that his legacy is secure. It’s the least I can do for the man who has sacrificed everything for us. The man I love more than life itself.