The Mafia's Chosen

Isabella 

I can still remember. I can still remember it all as if just happened last night. It's still fresh in my mind; the trauma that will haunt my thoughts forever...

"So this is my daughter, Isabella De Luca," Father said to a circle of his business associates, pulling me closer with a gentle tug. I gave a brief smile, as trained. Growing up in a Mafioso family has a lot of pros and cons, and a lot of strictness to abide by, right from birth. The most important thing about being a girl is how to behave in front of people of that caliber. 

I noticed that these were all new faces. I don't even have any idea what they are here for or what this party is about, but I had to attend because my father demanded so. I have been through this several times, I get over the stubbornness of refusing to attend because it never yields since my father is a dictator and he always gets what he wants. 

It's easy if you don't give it too much thought; be as graceful as possible, don't smile too much and don't be too grim, don't dance unless your mother or father permits you to, don't drink beyond two glasses if liquor unless you are sure your bodyguard is near you and you won't disgrace your self in front of the guests and game your family's reputation, do not talk to any random men, unless introduced to you by your father or mother, blah, blah blah... And so many other rules I have had on my fingertips since childhood and make sure I don't break when at such gatherings. 

"Well, how are you, Isabella? You look stunning tonight," one old man says with a smirk on his face. He looks like an old man in his mid-sixties but with the young charm of a playboy. I dare not to blush and murmur a thank-you. 

"She has pursued her Bachelor of Business Administration at Columbia Business School. I expect so much from her," he says with fatherly pride that I haven't seen him show for some good years. 

"You have every right to. She seems smart," another bald guy in a denim jacket comments and drinks from his bourbon. 

"That she is. That's why I dared to take her that far to pursue her studies," he says. 

The banter goes on for a few more minutes while I keep smiling politely at their remarks. 

I know very well how Italians don't value a girl's working potential and ability to build an empire for themselves. They treasure boys and believe in their potential more than the girls. Fortunately or unfortunately, I am my dad's only child, unless there are others out there I don't know about. I don't trust any Mafia in the case of a boy child. It is unbelievable to the whole world that my father only settled for me as his only child and ultimate heir, a girl. 

After being excused, I head for the lady's room to make sure my make-up is still good. 

I take in a long breath on my way out and pray this party ends soon. I am bored over my head. I know no one here other than Dad and I certainly can't enjoy myself. 

At the point where the corridor joins the main hall of the Silvestri mansion, there is a commotion that makes me halt in my heels. I hear two loud gunshots from outside followed by my typically loud lady screens.

What is happening? 

A waiter lets go of the tray full of glasses of tequila shots, and they scatter on the floor into pieces. Women a wailing like bereft widows and everyone is running around randomly, men and women indistinguishable, everyone for themselves. 

There is another gunshot. 

My ear goes deaf for a moment and I stand there as if paralyzed, watching the commotion, unmoving like I am not in this place. People are bumping into each other, one man is on the floor and women keep jumping over him running for their lives, some digging their long heels into his body. 

A heavy body landing on me startles me out of my trance. I land straight on my front and my arm in the broken glass pieces. The man runs past me without looking back and makes for the door like everyone else. 

That is when I get my sense back. 

Father! 

I quickly get on my feet and dash to the door in an indignant run. 

Father! Please be alright, father! 

I rash out of the house to the front yard where the party has been set. There is a lot of noise; wails, cars screeching away through the driveway, people running about and the whole scene is just unrecognizable. I try hard but da to identify my father amongst all the men in black suits all over the place. 

I pray hard in my heart that Father is fine. He should be fine. Oh God, please let him be fine. 

I squeeze through the crowd and get slammed by people running for their lives, but that doesn't stop me from looking around. 

Probably also looking around for me. He must be. Nothing can happen to him. His bodyguards are always alert. I keep affirming myself though my whole body is shaking and I am almost completely engulfed in fear. 

There is a large crowd gathered on the right side of the compound, near the garage. I run toward them, trying to squeeze through but hardly making it. Everyone looks dreadfully worried and that just hypes my tension. 

I manage to get through to the center of the circle where my biggest fear has come true. I fail to keep straight. My legs give way, and I end up sitting on the ground next to my blood-soaked father. Before I knew it, tears were running down my cheeks and my body was shaking violently. 

"Isabella," some voice calls me from behind, and a hand touches my shoulder. That did it. 

"Don't you dare touch me!" I scream shaking the hand off my shoulder. I crawl to where my dead father lay in a pool of his blood. 

"Papa," I cry, calling out, hoping that he will wake up. 

"Papa!" I wrap my hands around him, getting my gray gown equally soaked in his blood, but that would be the least of my concerns at the moment. 

"Papa, please wake up! Don't go! Don't leave me, papa!" I cry out, my voice broken and helpless. I hold right onto him and shriek loudly begging him not to leave me. 

"Isabella!" someone calls me and some hands try to disentangle me from my father. 

"Stay away from me!" I shout, suddenly hating everyone around me. 

"Isabella, please come down," the same voice insists. I instantly turn to look at him. Matteo, my father's bodyguard looks as guilty as he should be. 

"Where were you? Where the fuck were you when this happened?" I am practically shouting at the top of my lungs. 

"Miss Isabella, please try to calm down," he says. 

"Calm down? How dare you tell me to calm down? Stay away from me and my father!" I try hard but fail to keep my voice low. Everyone's attention has been turned to me and I am acting delirious. 

I go back to mourning with my head laid on my father's chest, feeling the life getting sucked away from me. 

My dearest father is gone. I don't want to live that life without him. I have a good number of suicidal plans running in my momentarily deranged mind. 

I have to stay alive! 

I must avenge! 

Whoever has done this will pay dearly with their life for this! I swear this on my father's body. 

Ambulance sirens sound from behind the crowd, and the next thing I know, I am being torn forcefully from my father. I am crying and screaming bitterly. At that moment I had already lost all my self-control and reasoning. I could only think of revenge; bloody murder!