Julian's Torment (Mafia Heirs 3)

My lips flatten into a line and I dig in my pocket, bringing out a few euro bills. Father grabs for them, stuffing his pockets full.

“That can’t be it,” he hisses. “Where’s the fucking rest?”

“There’s no more,” I mutter, the lie burning like flames on my tongue. I know I shouldn’t feed him bullshit, but if it were up to my father, he’d spend it all on booze and not leave a cent for food. I know the chances of me getting another job this week are slim, so I need to keep some to feed us.

“Fucking liar.” He grabs my shirt and I groan inwardly at the sound of ripping fabric. “I know there’s more. Where is it? Are you going to make me beat it out of you, you fucking ungrateful prick?”

I bite back the reply. I push him off me, feeling guilty as fuck as he stumbles. I know I shouldn’t treat my father this way, but I’m sick of this shit. I’m sick of giving him every hard-earned euro I make and sick of finding excuses for his shitty behavior. But I don’t have a choice. I have an obligation to my family, and I will not let my father down.

I wish I could go back on that as he makes a grab for me again. I try pushing him away, but he grips my shirt tight. We scuffle and the fucker grunts as my shirt pocket rips away in his hand and he triumphantly locates the fifty-euro bill I hid there.

“You think you can lie to me?” he hisses before tearing into the bill. I curse out loud this time, making a wild grab for the money, but it’s too late. He’s ripped it to shreds. The pieces flutter to the ground and I kneel next to them, running my hands through my hair.

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t fucking curse,” he slurs. “That’s what happens when you hide money from me. It’s your fucking fault. Fucking piece of shit, hiding cash so you can buy shit for yourself.”

“It was for our food,” I tell him. “And now you’ve fucking wasted it.”

“Fuck off,” he snarls, throwing a punch and stumbling when I dodge it. “Shut up, just fucking shut up, you piece of shit.”

I say nothing else. As he stumbles out of the apartment, probably to spend more of my hard-earned money. I feel the shame making me fucking angry as hell as I scoop up the torn-up bill.

My thoughts circle back to the high and mighty Francesca. As much as she gets my dick hard, I fucking hate the little bitch, acting like she’s better than me. And, there and then, on my knees in our shitty studio apartment, I vow to make Francesca Esposito pay.

2

FRANCESCA

My name is Francesca Esposito, and my life as I knew it is over.

A few months ago, everything changed. The police broke into my family's home and took everything away from me and my family. My maid, my clothes, my furniture, even the house. We were left with barely anything, and my dad was shamed publicly. We can never return to the status we held before this. From now on, my mother, father and I will be outcasts – for freaking ever.

All that’s left is the scholarship I have to The University – probably a pity offering from a family friend. My father certainly wouldn’t be able to afford to send me here, not now, when they’ve taken everything away from us. And yet here I am, standing on the steps leading up to the school with my eyes wide and filled with tears. I’m already dreading the thought of being here. I know I’ll be picked on relentlessly. How could I not, with everything Dad has done?

I’m sure every student has heard of the shameful story of the Espositos.

My father worked for a mafia don, and was threatened by the police with prison time if he didn’t turn against him. Terrified of losing his life and risking his family’s safety, my father accepted the deal, only to have the mafia don announce it was all a ploy to see how trustworthy he was. And then, instead of sending the real crime lord to jail, my family was the one that got the short end of the deal.

We have nothing left. My parents are living out of a hotel room while our home is searched before being taken away from us. And... I can kiss my marriage prospects goodbye. All that’s left is this scholarship. And I know my parents are already crossing their fingers, hoping I’ll meet a boy here who will take pity on me.

But not me.

I don’t want to get married.

The shame from everything that’s happened is too much. I don’t think I’ll trust anyone ever again. Right now, all I want to do is hide in the comfortable Egyptian cotton sheets of my bed. But even that is gone forever.