Isabella

People say that change is what's constant in life but I say, death is. It's inevitable, never changing and every life leads to it. No matter how rich or poor people are, how young or old. In death, it won't matter what kind of perfume you wear, which designer made your dress, what kind of house you live in, it's just… coming.

People my family knows murmured stuff like 'sorry for your loss' 'they were good people' 'it's going to be okay'. I don't know what to say really, they speak as if they know how it feels when your whole family dies. Mom, Dad, my two older brothers Sean and Heath. They are gone, just like that.

I stayed in the cemetery, still asking myself why I haven't died with them. It's a much better looking option from where I am right now. They are together, I was alone. They can't feel the pain, I can. They must be happy, I'm not.

"Miss Isabella" our butler John spoke behind me. "It's getting late and the rain is getting heavier. I should take you back to the mansion."

I just nod while he protected me from the rain with his big black umbrella.

My life is perfect, at least it used to be perfect until now. I had a loving Mom, a protective yet sensitive Dad, and two older brothers, both overprotective yet real softies when it came to me. All are in the past tense.

The Marciano estate in New York is one of the most beautiful mansions in the city, if not the most. As the SUV drove through the open iron gate, I closed my eyes, hoping it helps push back the beautiful memories I had with my family in the garden. My mom loves gardening, she never minds getting her hands dirty – literally – we used to do that together and she'd tell the best time to plant and grow flowers. She loved chrysanthemums, in all colors and sizes. Believe it or not, it's the first word I learned how to spell, after my family's names. Dad used to hate chrysanthemums, he believed that it symbolizes death and I remember how mom scolded him that day.

I stepped out of the car and pushed open the walnut wooden door, the lavender scent Dad loved engulfed me.

Our home is empty, no Sean and Heath bickering over some pin-up model. I peeled the gloves covering hands and took off my Louis Vuitton boots when I walked inside my room. I pulled over my head the black A line dress and went under the shower.

I was hoping the water would wash away some of my tears, or maybe it would stop falling, but it won't. The pain won't go away.

I hugged myself and slumped on the tiled floors of my bathroom. The hours that passed by under the cold waters didn't help me in any way, it just made my body chill but hey, at least I was feeling something apart from emptiness and pain and loss and grief.

After however long I cried, I forced myself to walk out of the bathroom and be decently dressed for the very worried John. He knocked on my door for the nth time and I let him in. He placed a plate of risotto on the coffee table and some tea, 'to help you relax' he said.

I drank the tea, John was beaten in tea making but I can't find the strength to eat. I went under my duvet after putting on my SpongeBob onesie, the one that Dad bought for me.

Morning came like a blink of an eye. I loved mornings but now, I see no reason to love it anymore. Oh yes, John was knocking on my door again, I changed my clothes before opening the door for him.

"Miss Isabella" was wearing a black suit matched with a very shiny derby shoe. John is a very tall man in his 6'9, he had no hair at all. No beard, no stubble and bald. Like completely, shiny, bald. He worked for my father since I can remember and became part of the family more than an employee. "The heads of the family are waiting at the conference room."

I gulped. "W-what?"

"As the only heiress of Don Daniel Marciano, you are now to take his place as the head of the family" he stated as a matter of fact.

"I-I know that, but why so sudden?" I asked annoyed, although John was only doing his job, it still is annoying. "Can't they wait after a week or two?"

John seems to reconsider but reasoned "I'm not allowed to voice out my opinion Miss but the other families think you're not capable of stepping up to fill your father's shoes. You should show them that you can because I know you can."

I just nodded at John and told him I'd be there before nine.

Those stupid family heads!? How can they think about the mafia when their Don and the rest of his family just died.

Yes, my father was the Don of the Italian mafia. Our ancestors have been a hold of this title since the old ages, since before guns were invented. Many families sided with my father because they trust him, they are loyal to him not because of fear, but because of respect.

I never expected anything from the clans but this, this is just beyond outrageous. It hasn't been 24 hours since I buried my father and here they are, challenging his name by insulting me. Well, they better be ready for Isabella Marciano.

° ° °

My Dad taught me everything, from guns to knives to bombs, from paper works to squeezing out information through different torture tactics. I was his princess but he trained me to become a leader just like Sean and Heath.

As I entered room conference 5, all eyes were on me. I made sure I wore something formal. A black pencil skirt and gray turtleneck with my skyscraper black stilettos. They hated me since I was sixteen, since they started bringing me in meetings and even on missions. They don't believe a woman should be part of the higher ranking in the mafia. No one can blame them, no woman has ever tried to infiltrate these ruthless clan meetings.

It wasn't my intention to lead in any way, Sean had always been the best choice because he was older, then Heath but me? Nah… I was the princess of the Italian mafia but not born to lead.

"What is this meeting about?" I spoke sternly, taking my father's seat at the head of the table.

"We need to decide who the next Don would be" Baron spoke.

The eleven other men in the room agreed with him. "This is the time for a change, a vote I say" Devicco second.

"Santi Ricci should lead us" Deville spoke of my uncle who sat beside me on the right "he has Marciano blood in him, born to be a Don."

"No. Valen should be the Don" St. Luis said. "He's the third in command after Sean. It's only logical that he leads."

They went on and on and on until I've had enough of them talking as if I wasn't in the room. I slammed my hand on the oak table.

"Good God!" I murmured rubbing my temples melodramatically "you whine like four-year-olds. Who even gave all of you the right to decide something meant for Marciano to decide."

They all glared at me but I wasn't done "whoever wants to take what's rightfully mine is welcome to challenge me in a hand to hand combat. I'm Daniel Marciano's daughter and his mafia is only mine to claim."

Before anyone could speak, I stormed out of the conference room and met a very proud looking John. He nods at me, as if recognizing my guts to scold those scumbags.

Like I said, I waited for anyone to come and challenge me at the gym. My fist was clenching as I sat on the bench. I waited, patiently, impatiently until my patience was gone. None came. Like I thought, all talk and no spine.

I went back into my room after five p.m., took a shower before eating my dinner… alone.

I realize that being in that dreadful meeting and waiting for that spineless shít faced old bítches kept my mind busy, distracted me about the pain of death. Of how alone I was until this dinner.

Heaving a sigh, I finished everything John prepared for me and got to bed. Tomorrow, I plan to take over the mafia, fully.

I was feeling restless, like the night of the accident, the same uneasiness engulfed me like we were close friends.

Pushing over the duvet from my body, I went to the kitchen and drank a glass of John's tea. I was barefoot and didn't need to open the lights. I know this place like the back of my hand and I can tell that something was off. All the lamppost outside seems to have been very dimmed, no lights passed through the glass windows. The night was eerie and it wasn't good.

I heard light stomps on the marble floor. Ten, fifteen men. I pulled out Mom's beretta under the dishwasher, felt it's heaviness, glad it was fully loaded before peeking outside the kitchen. The mansion was surrounded, this is going to be a bloodbath.

° ° °