𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 -
Intricate and witty, her life has twisted upside down after her father's past scarred his family. At the young age of twenty, Violet is informed that eight years ago, she was promised to marry a Mafia Don's son by h...
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The car ride to the courthouse with my father was silent, just like any other. We never had anything in common to talk about, and he never understood me anyways. Especially now when I resented him more than I ever had before.
Instead, I looked at my hands in my lap for the majority of the ride, my fingers skinning the tender parts of my knuckles from the punch that I threw at Dominic last night.
With built up anger and frustration, I clenched my fist, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. They would leave marks there for sure, sometimes bleeding depending on how hard I dug them into the skin.
It was something of a bad habit that I created over the past few years. Whenever I was nervous, or couldn't stay focus, the sharp pain would calm my thoughts. It wasn't that I wanted to purposely hurt myself, I wasn't like that, it just helped me concentrate on what really mattered in the moment.
I began to look out the window, staring into the oblivion of New York before my father broke the silence. "There's one more thing I should discuss with you." He said.
What more could he possibly want from me? Did he want me to sell my soul to the devil? Because that would be the equivalent of him forcing me to marry Dominic fucking D'Angelo. That man was a spawn of Satan, and I couldn't believe I hooked up with him.
I didn't answer, he didn't deserve to hear my voice.
"Now that you're financially set with Dominic," he paused and tapped the steering wheel. "I thought it might be time to let you go." He spoke calmly.
Let me go?
"You're cutting me off?" I asked in disbelief. This was all just some sort of fever dream. He wasn't really there talking to me, right?
"Well, you're even more better off than your mother and I. So I don't see a reason for us to have to provide you with anything more."
I widened my eyes. What. The. Fuck.
Nodding calmly as if I respected his decision. I didn't. I was about to go ballistic on him, I was just gathering the mouthful of words that I would spit on him eventually. "And did you talk to your wife about this?" I asked him, continuing to stare out the window.
Everything seemed still now. The car wasn't moving due to traffic, the wind was nothing but a breeze, and the people walked like slow old fucks. I hated New York. I hated my life. It felt like my whole world was ending just by being in this car.
