PlotlumeAfter a rival gang raided the family's underground casino, my boyfriend, the Don, and I brought the daughter of one of our fallen men home to the estate and raised her.
But the girl fell hopelessly in love with him, the most feared Don in Sicily.
She leaned on that old debt and clung to him. She broke every rule, tried to worm her way into the family's arms deals and money laundering, all for one more minute in his sight.
Whenever Vincent mentioned her, his eyes filled with disgust. "If I'd known she'd be this much trouble, I never would have taken her in!"
On the day of our grand wedding, she burst into the church.
In the struggle she knocked over a lamp pillar. I shoved Vincent out of the way, and it came down on me instead. I was left brain-dead.
The doctors said I would most likely never wake up.
So Vincent came to hate her with everything he had.
Day and night he forced her to kneel by my hospital bed and repent, and he said the cruelest things a man can say.
But when she snatched the gun from the table, pressed it to herself and pulled the trigger, sobbing, "A life for a life," Vincent panicked.
He threw himself on her, pressed his shaking hands to the wound in her chest, and called her name over and over.
"You owe me for the rest of your life! Who the hell said you could die without my order?"
They held each other tight beside my bed.
No one saw it. On the bed, the woman who never moved let a single tear slide from the corner of her eye.
1
The family doctor called the estate five times before Vincent finally showed up.
He threw the door of the hospital room open, then froze in the doorway, afraid to come closer.
I pushed myself up a little and smiled at him.
"Vincent. It's been a while."
He swayed. His eyes went red at once. He crossed the room, took my hand and held it so tight it trembled.
"Vivian... The doctor said you were awake, and I didn't dare believe it. It's real... You're really..."
I looked up into that familiar face.
The nurse on duty had just told me that since the accident at the church, I had been in a coma for five whole years.
Five years had left little mark on Vincent's face.
He wore his hair slicked back now. The wild fire that used to burn in his eyes had cooled into something calm and cold, and the black leather jacket he loved had become a hand-tailored three-piece suit.
He had become, completely, a ruthless Don who answered to no one.
To me, he was a little bit of a stranger.
I was about to speak when someone else came into the room. Nina dropped to her knees at my feet with a thud, tears streaming down her face.
"Vivian, you're really awake, thank God. What happened at the church... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
I stared at her. Vincent was already frowning. He stepped forward and pulled her to her feet.
"The floor's cold. What are you kneeling for? Stand up and talk like a person."
He glanced at me. "Vivian has always had a kind heart. She won't hold it against you. Nina, no more of this. Stop breaking the family's rules."
Nina looked up at him, pitiful. Vincent turned his eyes away, a little awkward.
I opened my mouth, then swallowed the words.
The boss who now held the power of life and death over the family seemed to have forgotten to ask me whether I had chosen to forgive her.
He poured me a glass of warm water and gave Nina a look.
"Go tell the men outside to have the car ready to take Vivian home. Move."
When it was just the two of us again, Vincent sat quietly beside me.
I looked out the window. The run-down streets I remembered had been swallowed by the family at some point. Glittering casinos and towers stood there now.
Just like the Vincent who used to tell me everything. He had given all his joy and anger to someone else, and all that was left between us was silence.
When I was discharged, I walked quietly beside him.
He stopped in front of an SUV and unlocked it without thinking.
The car no longer smelled of the Sicilian citrus I knew. The scent was faint, but I recognized it. It was Nina's perfume.
The car glided through the streets of Palermo, and the silence inside it went on and on.
I watched the unfamiliar streets go by until the armored car stopped below a secluded villa by the sea. He turned to me, apologetic.
"Vivian, you just got out of the hospital. Rest here for now. I have to get to a meeting with the capos. There's a dispute over one of the arms routes and the family is waiting on my call. I can't put it off. I'm sorry."
I stood there and watched him drive off with Nina. Only when I looked up at the villa did my eyes begin to sting.
This was the house we had chosen together, five years ago, before that grand wedding. It was meant to be our home.
I had imagined it a thousand times: walking hand in hand across the lawn, far from the blood and the guns, cooking him a big dinner myself.
If not for that accident.
I keyed in the code. Everything inside was exactly as it had been five years ago. Even the calendar on the coffee table still showed our wedding date.
As if nothing had ever happened.
At two in the morning, I woke from a nightmare full of gunfire. I reached for the space beside me. It was empty. The living room was dark.
I took the spare phone from the drawer and called Vincent.
"Vincent, where are you?"
His voice was thick, as if I had dragged him out of sleep.
"What? I'm at home."
The tears finally came.
"Which home?"