"What are you talking about Alessandra?" Alessio's voice echoed through the room filled with concern.

"Why don't you ask father?" She turned her gaze to her father, with shallow tears filling her eyes. "What am I talking about Papa?"

"I-" Ciro huffed out a breath, ashamed knowing that he would not be able to avoid this conversation. "Before I remarried, I did some things I was not proud of--"

Alessandra scoffed and turned to her brother, "We were eight and you had gone out with a few of your friends. I was home with Mother and Father, she sent me to bed after they had an argument over something so stupid. I was laying under my covers wishing that you would come home soon, you always knew how to help me calm down when they would argue." She took in a deep breath, filling her lungs, she could hear the loud voices and the anxiety that would replace her air when she was young. "I heard mom leave the house, and I though papa was coming to reassure me like he always did after they argued."

Suddenly she was eight years old again, lying in her dark room; nothing but the moon illuminating the space. She was hearing the slight creak of her door opening and she saw her father standing in the doorway. "He came into my room," She continued. "He sat on my bed next to me quietly and told me that everything was going to be okay. That there was nothing to worry about, nothing to fear."

She remembered her father hugging her tightly, like he was afraid to lose her if he let go. She looked up at him and saw the slightest bit of fear in his eyes before his hands wrapped around her throat. He squeezed tightly and pressed her down into the cushion of her bed. Her small hands grabbed on tightly to his wrists as she tried her best to scream. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as she stared into the eyes of her father as she desperately tried to fight him off of her. Flesh and blood collected underneath her fingernails. "Then he choked me," Alessio's concerned face quickly turned to their father.

"He looked at me and told me that he would make it quick. That everything would be okay, and then he started singing to me. When I woke up he was gone, and mom disappeared a week later. I met evil when I was only a child and his eyes looked like mine."

Growing up, I had a very biased life. My father, brother and Rafael had always protected me. No one ever got too close to me, especially males. My childhood had a lot of confinement and it leaves me wondering what I would have been like if I had a normal life. Would I be less confident? Would I trust more easily? How naïve would I be?

Its safe to say that I would be an entirely different person. I wonder if I would be okay with that person. Nevertheless, there is no point in dwelling on what could have been. I guess that's why I move on so easily. Which is also why it was so easy for me to adjust in Brazil.

I love my family but its hard to continue to do the same thing every day for the rest of your life. I would wake up, help Alessio plan out his drops and sometimes work as a temptation.

"What are you thinking about?"

I looked up at the sound of my mother's voice and sighed. I tightened my hands around the mason jar that held my favorite iced tea. "Life," I replied walking with her into the living area.

Many people said that Alessio and I took after our parents more than most children. They always said that we were the perfect combination of them both. Some people said it was the dark Italian features we inherited from our father and others said that we inherited our mentality from our mother.

I had never felt very close to my mother, so when Pap remarried I instantly connected with his new wife. She was more of a mother to me than my biological mother and our relationship truly taught me that family does not end in blood. So as we sat on the sofa together I contemplated how I should ask her what I wanted. As usual, I decided to take after my father and be blunt.

"Did you ever feel as if you weren't made for this life?"

My mother sucked in a breath and pulled her feet up on the sofa, getting comfortable. "When I met your father, I worked at one of your grandfather's clubs. I didn't know who Ciro was and when he approached me I called him a cagna." She reached over with a smile and took my hand. "You can only imagine how that went. Point is, I knew less than nothing about this lifestyle and when we got married, I didn't know what I was doing. I asked myself how to love and support  this man- this killer; a murderer. I was supposed to care for his children and stay by his side despite everything.

"I was here to help him lead and keep his throne. I had not one idea of what to do and no one would tell me. I had to figure it out myself, and so do you. You'll figure it out or you'll create your own way." She said reassuringly.

"What if I don't want to do it anymore?" I asked playing with small pieces of my hair.

"I think you know now, more than ever that this life will follow you wherever you go. It will always find you no matter where you are. If you don't want to keep hiding, you'll stay here and figure out how to deal with it. You were born into this."

I smiled as she stood. "Our sons are born defenders, warriors, and our daughters-" She chuckled. "Well, you'll find out for yourself." With that, she grabbed my hands and pulled me from the couch. "Enough of that though, we have to get everything ready for the party. There are lots of invitations to send out, and I think you'll want to deliver Marco's to him and his wife personally." 

Although she wasn't my blood, it had never felt that way. She started coming around when we were about ten, I remember looking into her eyes and wondering how they could be so bright. Everyone around me was so tainted and tormented by the things they had witnessed. She felt like crisp white sheets fresh from the wash. The kind that make it easy to sleep, so easy that it was almost hard not to wrap yourself in its warmth. That's how she felt to me, all of the love I had craved from my mother she gave to me. She continued to give, and give. 

For a long time I didn't know how to accept her love, I rejected it in fear of once again losing my mother. Eventually I learned to accept the love that she was trying to give me. I'm glad that I did, I needed her. "I guess I should get going then." I spoke smiling at her, she nodded her head and we walked to the front door.

I got into my car and drove to Marco Vitali's estate. I met Marco only once before he got married a few years ago, I never met his wife but rumors said that she was a vision. Like most people in this life, Marco and his wife Theresa had an arranged marriage. Unlike most women in this life, Theresa had gotten lucky as Marco wasn't like most of the power hungry men in the mafia. I couldn't say for sure that they were in love, but I could say that they were content. Contentment is more than what most of us as women can ask for.

Parking my car in their long driveway, I stepped out of my car and made my way to their front door with my purse and the invitation in hand. There were many men posted outside for security, they glanced at me briefly before continuing to do their rounds. I rang the doorbell and took some time to gather myself before the door pulled open. 

There stood Theresa Vitali, wearing a long white silk slip, she had a white sheer shawl covering her forearms. There was a bold red gloss decorating her lips and thick dark curls cascading down to her shoulders. The gossip did her no justice, I was intrigued. I plastered a friendly smile onto my face and stuck out my hand to shake. She took my hand into one of her soft hands and shook firmly. "Hi I'm Alessandra Rossiano, thank you for having me on such short notice."

She stepped to the side, allowing me to walk in, "Of course, I've heard much about you. It's a pleasure to meet you finally." We walked to the common area, it was beautifully decorated with whites, and tans, and golds. I could tell that she had put a lot of thought and effort into the scheme of the room. 

Marco walked into the room, a crisp white shirt on his broad shoulders and black trousers gripping onto his strong legs. His shirt was rolled up showing the veins in his hands and his arms. He walked up to his wife with a wide colgate smile that reached his hazel green eyes, and wrapped his arm around her waist. They were beautiful together, they were happy. Content. Suddenly parched, I cleared my throat and addressed Marco, "It's been a while Vitali."

A deep chuckle left his throat as he flashed his smile at me, "It has been indeed. I was just telling my wife about the great parties the Rossiano family gives every once in a while." Theresa lifted a manicured hand and placed it on his chest, throwing a bright smile my way. "Its an honor to be personally invited but Alessandra herself."

I reached into my small purse and pulled out the handwritten invitation. "I wanted to introduce myself to Theresa before the party. We've run in the same circle for so long and we've never spoken until now." I placed the invitation into Theresa's hand, she took it happily and her hand briefly brushed against mine. As I stood there I couldn't help but feel like this was the start of something new, something dangerous.