Chapter 2
Liliana
The blaring alarm jolts me awake from a restless night”s sleep. It was rather odd that I drifted off with thoughts of Nico, only to be plagued by unsettling visions of blood and an ominous pull into murky waters. Despite the fear that seized me, I found myself not resisting the darkness, and an eerie calm enveloped me. Unable to make sense of these haunting images, I reached for my robe and made my way to the bathroom for a shower.
I’m having breakfast on the terrace with my parents while my younger sister and brother are at school. Alongside Luca, my brother, was his twin, Alexandria. They’ve just entered their second year of high school and after hearing about my experiences, Alexandria expressed a newfound interest in pursuing higher education. When she confided in me that she wants nothing to do with the mafia, I felt a sense of responsibility as her older sister, to counsel and guide her through this life until she became an adult. Despite the promising opportunities that college could provide, Luca remained steadfast in his desire to follow in our father”s footsteps. Loving the power and respect of being the head of the family. While I entertained the idea that Luca”s aspirations might offer an escape from my own obligations, my father had yet to mention any plans for him to take my place.
Stepping out of the shower, I glance at the clock and see that I still have a little time to dry and style my hair. Using the hot brush, I create luscious waves that fall to my waist and I have no desire to cut it. Nico loves the length, often running his hands through the strands or grasping them firmly while he fucks me. There is nothing gentle about our love life. Our initial encounter was slow and sensual, given it was my first time but since our fathers controlled the amount of time we spend together, we’ve had more quickies than actual love making.
I’m putting the final touches on my make-up when a knock at my door sounds. “Come in,” I call out from my vanity inside the walk-in closet.
“Buon 21 esimo compleanno Tesoro! (Happy 21st birthday sweetheart) I have your dress all ready for you,” our house manager, Greta, announces, placing it gently on the bed.
“Grazie, Greta, I reply,” rising from my chair to embrace her. She has been our house manager since before I was born and she’s more like family. We have other house staff but Greta has been with us the longest.
“Your parents are already on the terrace enjoying their first coffee. You should hurry to join them. You know how impatient your father is,” she advises.
“He can wait a little longer, Greta. Don’t you get tired of marching to the beat of his drum?” I ask, curious as to how she will answer after a lifetime of service to our family. Breathing a heavy sigh, she responds,
“Sí Tesoro, but your father saved me from an abusive husband that nearly took my life. For that, I owe him. Besides, I enjoy taking care of all of you. You’re the only family I’ve known since leaving Sicily and I have no regrets leaving that life behind.”
Occasionally, I forget how life exists outside of these walls. I’ve been sheltered my entire life and never experienced abuse or hardship. It’s precisely why I long to break free. This isn’t truly living. Not that I wish for anything tragic to happen, I simply want room to breathe and forge a path based on my merits.
“Once I graduate, I promise to whisk you away on a trip where you”ll be pampered,” I say with a smile.
“That sounds wonderful, a nice change of pace,” she responds, though her tone says otherwise.
Greta, with her kind heart and selflessness, deserves a rest from this life just as much, if not more, than I do. Giving her a gentle hug, I shed my robe and slip into a freshly pressed linen dress. As I reach for the door handle, she turns to me and says,
“Darling, your father only wants what he believes is best for you. You should truly listen when he speaks to you about being the head of the family. It is a great responsibility but you possess the same strength as him, and no one is better suited to take over once he”s gone. He entrusts you with the empire he has built, and that alone should be enough for you to at least hear what he has to say.”
Before I can respond, she quietly closes the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. One undeniable truth she speaks is that my father places more trust in me than anyone else. The mafia way of life runs deep in our family, spanning generations. Initially, it wasn”t solely characterized by violence; it was about creating a community where every family prospered and generated wealth. However, with each generation, it devolved into a toxic world marked by greed and envy. Instead of unity, families now engage in ruthless battles for power and control.
There are no words my father can say that would sway me to assume leadership of our family. After graduating Summa cum Laude from Loyola University, my plan is to begin graduate school in the upcoming spring semester. I wanted to spend more time with my siblings before leaving the country. We’re very close and like me, they’re sad that I’ll be so far away. Despite my father”s dismissive attitude regarding my educational pursuits, my unwavering resolve allows him no room for objection. Trying to remain respectful at the same time showing my passion for freedom was difficult to navigate. My mother enjoys our discussions about the future, often expressing admiration for my determination and longing for even a fraction of my courage.
Inhaling deeply to clear my mind, I snatch up my phone and head downstairs. The atmosphere in the house is tranquil, affording me a little time to brace myself for the inevitable barrage of inquiries, objections, and challenges from my father. Recently, his insistence on my attendance at meetings and sessions with my trainer has only intensified. At the tender age of thirteen, I was initiated into the world of weaponry, gravitating towards knives as my preferred choice. This initiation was all part of my father”s grand scheme, ensuring I possessed the skills to defend myself and our family in the event of an attack by a rival family. While it seemed absurd to me, I devised my own strategy: comply with my father”s demands in hopes that when the time came for me to depart, he would be more open-minded to the goals I set for myself.
Pushing through the French doors that lead to the terrace, I’m immediately enveloped in my mother’s warm embrace.
“Good morning sweetheart and happy birthday!” She exclaims, holding me close for a moment longer than usual.
“Good morning mother,” I answer, feeling her soft kiss on my cheek before she finally releases me. Turning to my father, I notice the emotion in his eyes, a tenderness that warms my heart. Rare moments like these make me crave his affection, so I burrow into his embrace. The familiar scents of pine and vanilla bring me back to a simpler time when I was just a little girl who adored her daddy.
“How does it feel to officially be an adult?” He inquires with a smile.
“I don’t feel any different, but it’s certainly exciting as I enter this next chapter, I reply as I look over the buffet. Greta had the kitchen staff prepare a beautiful spread of garden cheddar frittata, sausage, brioche, and custard cream-filled cornetto. The aroma alone was enough to set my taste buds afire as I added fresh steamed milk to my espresso and loaded up my plate with food. However, the day”s excitement quickly faded when my father states,
“There”s a meeting I need you to attend on Saturday. A shipment of semi-automatic rifles is coming in from New York and the product needs to be tested. Antonio and I must leave town for some business with one of our cocaine suppliers,” he announced, seemingly disregarding any input from me.
“Babbo (dad), you know I have plans with Nico this weekend. I also know that this is your way of trying to interfere, but I can”t accommodate your request. You”ll need to find someone else,” I respond calmly, though my inner resolve clashed with my composed demeanor. It wasn”t fear motivating my refusal. What my father fails to understand is that his attempts to intervene in my relationship only serve to push me further away.
My birthday had begun on a high note with Nico”s thoughtful call, but with a single sentence, my father managed to extinguish the flicker of joy I had been holding onto. I refuse to let him disrupt my birthday celebration with Nico. It feels as though I’m battling my father for control over my life, and it”s not fair. None of this was my choice, and it seems rather odd that he expects me to embrace this life as a woman. Leading Chicago”s mafia is dangerous. Will the families acknowledge my leadership and follow my vision? Or will it provoke adversaries trying to gain control by starting a war? There are a number of things that can go wrong, yet my father insists I”ll command the same, if not greater, respect than he does. I’m not sure that’s possible considering the chatter that’s being heard amongst the members.
Nico has witnessed meetings where my father”s decisions were questioned, casting doubts on my ability to lead the family. These discussions shouldn”t occur; any concerns should be addressed directly with my father. Carlo Beneventi”s disregard for the rules is precisely why many opposed his rule over Chicago. While a few families disagreed with my father, they ultimately aligned with the majority, prioritizing everyone’s safety . Don”t misunderstand me, I”m grateful for the privileges I”ve enjoyed. As of today, I have access to a twenty-five-million-dollar trust fund, my undergraduate education was fully funded from freshman year onward, and I”ve traveled extensively since childhood. However, these comforts pale in comparison to the prospect of freedom from this lifestyle.
“Liliana, you must understand the position I’m in as the head of our family. It doesn’t look favorable for you to be involved with a man whose family has long been our rival?” He states, as if our families are mortal enemies.
“That”s merely an excuse to try and tear Nico and me apart. There hasn”t been any hostility between our families for years. Why can”t you just let us be?” I seethe, disgusted that he would do this to me on my birthday.
“I don”t expect you to grasp the depth of problems this will cause, but if you persist in this relationship, the Beneventi family will exploit your connection to gain power. Is that what you desire, Liliana?”
“Nico would never betray me like that. He loves me and wants nothing to do with this life.”
“Is that what he told you?” He softly utters as if speaking to a na?ve child.
“It”s what I believe to be true, Babbo,” I respond with desperation, drained from defending Nico to my father.
“Then you”re a fool, and I swear, Liliana, if you push me, I will take whatever action necessary for our family”s sake.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, alarmed by the certainty in his tone. He”s never spoken like this before, so what”s changed?
“It means significant changes are taking place after your birthday celebration. You may spend this weekend with Nico, but afterward, I will not allow you to see him. I”ve consented to your graduate studies, and that”s as far as my leniency extends.”
This can”t be real, I think to myself, glancing at my mother, hoping she”ll intervene and oppose this absurdity. To my dismay, she avoids my gaze, her silence an implicit agreement with my father. It”s then that I realize the shell my mother has become.
While I understand that a woman must honor her husband, I’m at a loss of words at the moment. Looking back and forth between them, I realize there’s nothing more to say. Something had to have happened for my father to say this. It’s as if he’s made a declaration that I have no choice but to follow or there will be life altering consequences.
A knot forms in my stomach and I suddenly feel ill. Wiping my mouth with my cloth napkin, I rise to excuse myself. When my mother reaches out towards me, she doesn’t say anything, just stares. Desperation fills her eyes, begging me to understand her position but I gently pull my arm away. Her once comforting touch does nothing but sadden me. I’m not privy to the private conversations that my parents have behind closed doors, however, it’s hard to imagine that I would stay silent if my children’s lives were dictated for them by their father. Maybe I should take the helm and ensure nothing like this ever happens again. Without a word, I head back inside and up to my room. I may be twenty-one years old but I feel as though I’m a small child who has no say in where my life goes. Running away would be juvenile, but what choice do I have? Fantasies fill my head of spending time with Nico this weekend and never coming home. We could live the life we’ve always dreamed about where no one can find us.
The vision quickly fades because that’s all it would be, a fantasy that will never come true. It”s not a fear of physical harm from my father that troubles me. He would never do anything to hurt me that way. Rather, it”s the shame it would bring upon my family and the repercussions of opposing what was set forth from the time I was ten years old. The Leonis, Morettis, and Sorrentos, the other prominent families of Chicago, were all in attendance for my father”s initial proposal: on my twenty-first birthday, I would assume the role as Underboss and his eventual successor. He always sensed something unique in me, vowing to educate me in the Cosa Nostra (Sicilian Mafia) ways.
At such a young age, I didn’t quite understand what was happening but I quickly began to understand the gravity of my situation. My life was not by own, replaced by a predetermined fate that fueled rebellion within me. I hoped my father would take notice of my suffering, releasing me from this path. But my defiance was misconstrued as determination. Every possible path of escape has a roadblock that leaves me emotionally drained. The only road that appears to be clear is ending my relationship with Nico.