Half Of The Mafia Man (COMPLETED)

Prologue*

H͙e͙y͙ g͙u͙y͙s͙. T͙h͙a͙n͙k͙ y͙o͙u͙ s͙o͙ m͙u͙c͙h͙ f͙o͙r͙ c͙l͙i͙c͙k͙i͙n͙g͙ o͙n͙ m͙y͙ s͙t͙o͙r͙y͙. I͙t͙ i͙s͙ m͙y͙ s͙e͙c͙o͙n͙d͙ b͙o͙o͙k ͙h͙e͙r͙e͙ o͙n͙ w͙a͙t͙t͙p͙a͙d͙. I͙t͙ c͙o͙n͙t͙a͙i͙n͙s͙ v͙i͙o͙l͙e͙n͙c͙e͙, b͙a͙d͙ l͙a͙n͙g͙u͙a͙g͙e͙ a͙n͙d͙ t͙o͙o͙ m͙u͙c͙h͙ k͙i͙l͙l͙i͙n͙g͙ an͙d͙ m͙a͙n͙y͙ m͙o͙r͙e͙ t͙h͙a͙t͙ w͙o͙u͙l͙d͙ t͙r͙a͙u͙m͙a͙t͙i͙z͙e͙ y͙o͙u͙. Y͙o͙u͙r͙ m͙e͙n͙t͙a͙l͙ h͙e͙a͙l͙t͙h͙ c͙o͙m͙e͙s͙ f͙i͙r͙s͙t͙ s͙o͙ b͙e͙ c͙a͙r͙e͙f͙u͙l͙. A͙n͙y͙w͙a͙y͙s͙, p͙l͙e͙a͙s͙e͙ c͙o͙m͙m͙e͙n͙t͙ y͙o͙u͙r͙ t͙h͙o͙u͙g͙h͙t͙s͙, b͙e͙ m͙y͙ j͙u͙d͙g͙e͙ a͙n͙d͙ t͙e͙l͙l͙ m͙e͙ i͙f͙ i͙t͙ d͙e͙s͙e͙r͙v͙e͙s͙ a͙ s͙t͙a͙r͙🌟 O͙n͙e͙ m͙o͙r͙e͙ t͙h͙i͙n͙g͙, p͙l͙e͙a͙s͙e͙ d͙o͙n͙'t͙ f͙o͙r͙g͙e͙t͙ t͙o͙ s͙h͙a͙r͙e͙!

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Quiescent
(n.) A quiet, soft-spoken soul.

Willows POV

“You will have to get married to Sean in two months,” that's my stepfather. He literally hates me to the core. Ever since he got married to my mom and I learned about what he does for a living he has been hell-bent on sending me away from here.

“He is the third powerful mafia leader,” his daughter, Kimberly, said and I smiled at her even though it was not real. I've wished to kill this girl ever since I came to this house, she hates me, and I hate her there is no way forward for me and her apart from death.

“And he is looking for a trophy wife,” my so-called father repeated for the 20th time. He had told me that since the man said he wanted a trophy wife.

“Isn't that what all mafia men want?” I asked raising an eyebrow and my stepfather scoffed.

“The top ones only. My mafia is the second most powerful one so when I looked for a trophy wife, it was normal. It is unusual when a low-rank leader wants a trophy wife, he's not attending fancy parties.”

“So, my future husband's mafia is the third best?” I asked and he nodded his head as if he is proud.

“I was just telling you so that you could be ready in two months,” he said, and I rolled my eyes getting up from the chair, I walked to my bedroom and then threw myself on the bed.

My name is Willow Giovanna. My father was half Italian, and my mother is American. She only married for money, as long as she does her hair daily and gets her nails done weekly. She doesn't care. I'm 17. Almost 18. I'll be 18 next week. On the 4th of March, my mom Has forgotten about my birthday. I bet 1,000,000 bucks on that. My dad taught me all I needed to know to survive on my own. He taught me how to assassinate, He taught me how to do bank fraud, blackmailing, and intimidating witnesses. My mom doesn't know this though. Dad would spend time with me and teach me all I need to know. It started with pickpocketing classes.  My Mom had been married to Steven for maybe a year and a half. My dad died three years ago. He was jailed for murder and got killed while on the inside. I still remembered the last word he said to me before going to jail.

“Dodge bullets like you are a ballet dancer, surprise them with your cold blood killing skills. Stay strong and don't let anyone f**k you up. If they do, then decorate their foreheads with a shiny bullet. Remember.”

I was there when they threw him inside the police van. I wasn't yelling like other kids would, running after the police van yelling ‘bring him back’. He made his bed; he was ought to lay in it.

My birthday is in next week. End my wedding.  is in two months. How. perfect. Not. 

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