Episode 1

My name is Antonella Rossi.

I am the youngest daughter of the Rossi family, one of the oldest and most respected families in the Italian mafia. I grew up amidst silent dinners with unspoken codes, glances that said more than words, and an etiquette that was taught to us from our first steps: speak softly, smile moderately, always obey.

I got used to observing. To being the shadow at parties, the forgotten face among so many glittering dresses and enchanting voices. Unlike my sisters, I never knew how to charm a room.

Valentina, the eldest, is the pride of the family. Brilliant, elegant, persuasive. She gets what she wants with a simple look. She is respected among the men of the mafia, but not out of fear. Out of admiration. She is the kind of woman that families want as a wife for their heirs.

Bianca, the middle one, is the opposite. Competitive, sharp, ambitious. She always looked at me with a mixture of boredom and disdain. We grew up side by side, but she always made me feel... smaller. For her, being sensitive is being weak. Being kind is wasting time.

And then there's me. The silent daughter, with light steps and a soft heart.

I like flowers, sewing, and piano. I never learned to shoot, nor am I interested in mafia strategies. My world is made of details – a cup of hot tea, a piece of porcelain, the smell of lavender in the garden.

Perhaps that's why no one ever looked at me twice.

And I was at peace with that. I never wanted to be noticed. I never imagined being anyone's choice.

Much less... his.

The summit meeting took place on a cold night, in the hall of the Vitalle mansion.

The main bosses of the Italian mafia were present. Seated at a long dark wooden table, the patriarchs discussed the future of the empire in firm voices.

"The succession is near," said Don Alberto Vitalle, head of the family and Giancarlo's father. "And the heir needs a wife."

Everyone looked at each other.

"Giancarlo is efficient, respected, he has the iron fists that this organization needs. But he lacks a woman by his side. Someone who unites families, who brings balance, who produces heirs."

"We agree," said Don Matteo. "But will he choose alone?"

"Of course not," replied Don Alberto. "We have prepared a party. A formal ball. Allied families will be invited. And their daughters... too.

Let him observe. Let him choose. Or... let her conquer him."

The announcement spread like wildfire through the mafia families. The news reached the mansions, the women, the dressmaking salons. It was official: Giancarlo Vitalle was looking for a wife.

And everyone wanted to be the chosen one.

Except me.

Antonella

The hall of our house turned into a parade of fabrics, jewels, and perfumes. The seamstresses multiplied throughout the corridors, bringing custom-made models for me and my sisters. Valentina smiled mischievously as she tried on provocative dresses. Bianca rolled her eyes and demanded something more daring, something that "would catch Giancarlo's attention."

"Are you really going, Antonella?" Bianca asked, with a tone that seemed more like mockery than curiosity.

"Mom asked me to. It's not my choice," I replied, keeping my eyes on the light blue lace I was holding.

Bianca gave a dry laugh.

"You can go... but you know you have no chance, don't you? He will choose someone who imposes themselves. Who has presence."

Valentina interrupted, sitting in front of the mirror, retouching her lipstick.

"What if he wants just the opposite? Sometimes men get tired of too much glitter."

They argued, competed, disputed a throne that I didn't even want. To me, that ball seemed more like an auction disguised as a dream.

But what I didn't know yet was that, even trying to hide, someone had already noticed my absence in the center of the hall.

Giancarlo

Parties. Fake smiles. Expensive clothes. Barbs hidden between toasts.

None of that interested me.

Since my father announced the idea of the ball, I have been bombarded with advice, pressure, and "suggestions" of names.

Daughters of allies, influential young women, beautiful as shop-window dolls. That's how they described the candidates to me. None of them aroused anything in me besides boredom.

"It is necessary, Giancarlo," my father said. "We need to strengthen alliances. You need a wife. One who knows how to obey and represent our family well."

I agreed in silence. I would do what was necessary. I always have.

But, deep down, I knew that party would be just another empty night. A parade of interest and appearance. And I hated appearance. I detested flattery.

Until I heard her name.

"The Rossi sisters will come, of course," one of the capos commented during the party planning meeting. "Valentina, Bianca... and the youngest... what's her name again?"

"Antonella," another replied. "Too quiet. She even seems mute. A pity... she has a delicate face."

Antonella. I never heard that name with attention before.

Delicate. Quiet. Invisible.

Curious.

Something in me was bothered. Not by the subtle compliment. But because... unlike the others, she didn't seem to want to be there. And that, for me, was a novelty.

The others desired me.

She, from all indications... didn't want me.

And perhaps that's why, for the first time, I really wanted to see her.

***This work has been signed with NovelToon, and piracy such as reprinting without permission is strictly prohibited.***

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***