Chapter 6
Harlow
It turns out that Giovanni Ricci is, without question, my father.
The words feel foreign, hollow as they echo in my mind, their weight unsettling and unfamiliar. I’ve spent twenty-five years without a real parental figure, and now, here he is, materializing into my life like a ghost resurrected from a forgotten past.
A man I never cared to know, one I never intended to search for. When I was a child, I dreamed of him finding, rescuing me from my mother’s neglect and abuse. Those dreams felt vivid then, almost tangible. But they were fragile, fleeting, and ultimately impossible. So I stopped dreaming altogether.
Truthfully, I stopped caring about the concept of family years ago. What is family, really, when it’s built on lies, manipulation, and suffocating expectations? Maybe it’s my mother’s doing—no, I’m certain it’s her fault. The hate she hurled my way, the blame, the abandon. It all added up. And now, I neither believe in family nor want one.
Don Ricci. I’ve heard of him. Born into a mafia family myself, I understand the weight his name carries. He’s a figure whispered about in Sicilian streets, a shadow that stretches far and wide.
What are the odds that when I fled to Italy, I’d land squarely in his territory? If I believed in fate, I’d call it that.
But I don’t.
He has three sons. Which means I now have three brothers.
The thought steals my breath, my chest tightening like a vice. How quickly my world has turned upside down, in a matter of seconds.
These past three months have tested me in unimaginable ways, and somehow, I know this is only the beginning of the nightmare.
The truth emerged through a DNA test I was desperate to avoid. I resisted, but my cousin Michael, Don of the Chicago Outfit, and my grandfather, the former Don, left me no choice. The test was non-negotiable, and so was the arranged marriage that followed.
I agreed, or rather, I was coerced. Michael didn’t simply request it, he threatened to use his own sisters, Sofia and Elena, as bargaining chips. He’s always been calculating, but this? This felt like betrayal. He vowed to marry one of them off in my place if I refused, and I couldn’t let that happen. When he became Don, he promised to shield us from this life, to keep us from being reduced to pawns in the mafia’s endless games. But when the stakes rose, even family wasn’t spared from sacrifice.
So, I conceded, hoping that by carrying this burden, I might give my cousins a sliver of a chance at real happiness, if such a thing even exists in our world. Maybe they’ll find love, marry on their own terms, or pursue their dreams without the weight of our legacy dragging them down. It’s a bitter hope, a fragile thread I cling to in moments of doubt.
But deep down, I know the harsh truth, in a world like ours, dreams don’t come true.
And now, I’m getting married. I force myself not to dwell on it, because when I do, it feels like the walls are closing in, stealing the air from my lungs. My soon-to-be husband is Leonardo, the nephew of Dante Salvatore.
Dante.
I can still feel his gun, cold and unyielding, pressed against my temple. His smirk lingers in my mind, an unsettling mix of arrogance and menace. That was my introduction to him, a man who commands fear like it’s second nature.
And now, here I am seated in the back of a sleek black car, my cousin Michael to my left, and my grandfather to my right. The streets blur beyond the tinted windows, a hazy backdrop to the chaos in my mind. I’m about to meet Giovanni, officially, as my father, and his sons, the brothers I’ve never known existed. My fiancé will be there too, a man I’ve never met but already resent with every fibre of my being.
A big, happy family. The thought is bitter, a cruel joke I can’t ignore.
“Piccola,”
my grandfather’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, cutting through the hum of the car.
“You know this is necessary. Leonardo is a good man. He won’t dare disrespect you unless he’s eager to meet my wrath.”
His tone carries a quiet menace. A tight smile pulls at my lips, one that doesn’t reach my eyes.
“I’m not worried. I can handle him.”
The words taste hollow, but I refuse to show it.
He studies me, his sharp gaze shadowed with regret.
“I always worry about you. And this news about your father…”
He pauses, exhaling heavily.
“Carmela… I knew she was vindictive, but I didn’t think she’d lie about something like this. I should have seen it. I should have dug deeper, not trusted her word, not let her volatile behaviour go unchecked.”
I glance at him, keeping my expression steady even as his words twist like a knife in my chest.
“You did what you could.”
I reply calmly, though the weight of the truth presses heavily on me.
“None of that changes where I ended up.”
His lips tighten into a thin line, the regret in his gaze replaced by something anger, at himself, perhaps.
“You shouldn’t have had to do it on your own, piccola. I should’ve stepped in before it ever got that far.”
A flicker of anger rises, but I suppress it, holding his gaze.
“I wasn’t waiting for anyone to step in,”
I say evenly.
For a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he gives a slow nod, his voice quiet but firm.
“You’re right. You’ve always been stronger than anyone gives you credit for. But strength doesn’t mean you should’ve had to face it all alone.”
The driver, who has been stealing glances at us in the rearview mirror, shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting back to the road as my cousin Michael notices.
“Keep your damn eyes focused ahead, or you’ll lose them.”
Michael growls, his voice deadly. The man stiffens immediately, his posture rigid as he grips the wheel tighter.
I suppress a sigh, the tension in the car coiling tighter.
Michael turns his attention to me, his expression hard.
“This isn’t about what anyone did or didn’t do in the past.”
He says, his tone clipped.
“What matters is now. The family comes first, Harlow. Always.”
His sudden shift makes me bristle, but I hold my ground.
“The family.”
I echo.
“Funny how that only applies when it’s convenient.”
Michael’s jaw tightens, and his frustration is palpable.
“You think this is convenient? That I wanted this for you?”
His voice hardens with each word.
“Do you think I enjoy the thought of you walking into that house, marrying a man you’ve never met, while dealing with a father who’s been absent your entire life?”
His words hit like a hammer, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I meet his glare head-on.
“Then why do it?”
“Because there’s no other option.”
He snaps, his voice rising.
“You think I haven’t tried to find another way? I’m the Don now. Every choice I make is for the Outfit, for the family. This isn’t just important, it’s survival. For all of us.”
The weight of his words hangs heavy, but I refuse to let him see me falter.
Michael exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.
“We’ve all made sacrifices. And don’t think for a second that you’re any less family to me than Sophia or Elena. I promised to protect you, and I’m doing it the only way I can. Whether you believe it or not.”
His rare display of emotion catches me off guard, but I push the moment aside, refusing to let it sink in.
“Protect me?”
I scoff softly, my tone ice-cold.
“Call it what it is, a deal. And I’ll play my part. Just don’t expect me to thank you for it.”
Michael leans back, his dark gaze still fixed on me. “Good.”
he says, his voice steady but cold.
“Because I’m not asking for your gratitude. I’m asking you to do what needs to be done. You’ve made it this far, you’ll make it through this too.”
The tension is suffocating now, the silence broken only by the low hum of the car.
My grandfather exhales, his voice softening just slightly.
“Harlow, you’re stronger than you think. I know you’ll endure this. But if it becomes too much, if Leonardo, Giovanni, or anyone else crosses a line, you come to me. I’ll handle it.”
I nod once, my expression calm and resolute.
“I’ll be fine.”
I say, more for their benefit than my own.
Michael snorts, his voice gruff.
“You’d better be. This isn’t the time to break.”
I glance at him, holding his unyielding gaze.
“I’m not breaking, Michael. Not now, not ever.”
For a moment, he studies me, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, a flicker of approval crossing his features before he turns his attention back to the window.
My grandfather’s hand reaches over briefly, a rare gesture, and squeezes mine. “Good.”
He murmurs.
“Because no matter what happens, we’re still family. And family doesn’t fail each other.”