Page 6 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
VALENTINA
Luca Salvatore’s voice is the first thing I remember when I wake up.
“You have until tomorrow evening to make up your mind, Valentina.”
The memory of his words strikes like a match, setting fire to the fragile calm of morning. I push the blanket off and sit up, my body taut, as though bracing for another blow. My apartment is eerily quiet save for the soft, distant whirring of the refirgerator. For a moment, I wonder if last night was just a nightmare.
But the smell of smoke still lingers around me—the ghost of his cigar—and I know it wasn’t.
I stand, pacing the length of the room, my fingers dragging through my hair. Everything about yesterday replays in my mind with cruel clarity. The funeral. The suits. Luca, sprawled on my couch as though he owned the place, and now, my life.
Marry me.
The words sit in my chest like lead.
A sharp knock on my kitchen table breaks the spiral. My hand, clenched into a fist, has slammed against the woodwithout me realizing it. I stare at the white marks on my knuckles, then inhale deeply.
I can’t stay here. Not in this apartment that feels smaller, darker, more suffocating than ever. Grabbing my coat from the hook by the door, I leave.
The walk to my mother’s apartment feels both too short and painfully long. By the time I reach her door, my chest is tight with a mix of dread and desperation.
When I step inside, I see her sitting at the small kitchen table, her tea cup cradled in both hands. She looks fragile, her skin pale, her frame slighter than I remember.
Her gaze snaps to mine as I close the door behind me, and I see the worry flicker across her face. “Valentina?”
“Do you ever think Dad could’ve made worse decisions?” The question bursts out before I can stop it, a bitter laugh escaping my lips.
She blinks, setting the cup down. “What are you talking about?”
I sink into the chair across from her, pressing my palms against my thighs to stop them from shaking. “I met Luca Salvatore last night.”
Her breath hitches, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh, God.”
“He wants me to marry him,” I say bluntly, watching the horror bloom in her eyes. “To erase Dad’s debt.”
Her silence hurts more than the wound from the morning.
For the next few minutes, I tell her everything, sparing no details. Luca’s ultimatum. The number my father owed. The icy, terrifying finality in his voice. When I’m done, my mother is trembling, her tear-filled eyes locked on me as though she’s trying to find the right words.
Finally, she speaks. “You have to marry him.”
A pebble of goosebumps erupt across my arm as I stare at her in disbelief. “What?”
Her fingers curl around her cup, her knuckles white. “Valentina, men like him don’t make idle threats. If you say no, he’ll…” Her voice falters. “He’ll hurt us. All of us.”
I push back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. “So I’m just supposed to give up my life? Tie myself to a man like that?”
“Would you rather he comes after me? Or your friends?” Her voice cracks, but she holds my gaze. “You saw what he’s capable of. What choice do you have?”
I open my mouth, then close it again. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the silence of the room.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do,” I whisper, my throat tight.
My mother stands, her frail figure shaking as she moves toward me. She places her hands on my shoulders, her touch featherlight. “I know exactly what I’m asking you to do,” she says quietly. “And I hate it. But Valentina, this family has already lost too much. I can’t lose you, too.”
Her words slice through me. I can’t breathe, can’t think. My gaze drops to the worn floor, the reality of my situation closing in like a vise. I step away from her, putting distance between us, my hands curling into fists. “He’s not some savior, Mama. He’s a man who thinks he owns everything he touches. And I refuse to be owned.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “If it keeps us alive, does it matter?”
