The office beyond was spacious, minimalist. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city. A man stood with his back to me, hands clasped behind him as he gazed out at the skyline.
"Leave us, Vivian."
His voice was deep, accented slightly—Italian, perhaps. The door closed with a soft click behind me.
He turned, and I saw my own eyes staring back at me.
"Julietta." He didn't smile. "You look like your mother."
I stood frozen, unable to speak. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with silver threading through dark hair. Expensive suit, gold watch, an air of absolute authority.
"You don't know who I am." It wasn't a question.
I found my voice. "Are you my father?"
"Don Lorenzo Altieri." He gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Sit."
I remained standing. "Why now? After eighteen years?"
"Because now you're of age. Now you can serve your purpose." He moved to a bar cart, pouring amber liquid into a crystal glass. "Drink?"
"No."
"Smart girl. Never drink what's offered in unfamiliar territory." He sipped his own drink, studying me over the rim. "Your mother—your birth mother—was beautiful too. It's why I chose her."
"Chose her?"
"For breeding. I needed a daughter. Sons are valuable, but daughters..." He smiled thinly. "Daughters cement alliances."
Cold dread pooled in my stomach. "What are you talking about?"
"The Bennetts were paid well to raise you. To educate you. To keep you safe until you were needed." He set down his glass. "You belong to the Altieri family. Always have."
"I don't belong to anyone."
His laugh was sharp, humorless. "Such American thinking. Everything and everyone belongs to someone,piccola. You were born to serve this family's interests."
"What family? What interests?"
"The Altieri family controls distribution routes across three continents. Drugs, weapons, people—if it's profitable and prohibited, we move it." He spoke matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather. "But even empires need allies. The Suarez cartel controls production. We need each other."
My legs trembled. I sank into the chair, mind spinning. "You're in the mafia."
"Iamthe mafia, in this part of the world." He leaned forward. "And you, Julietta Altieri, will marry Miguel Suarez's son on your twenty-fifth birthday. The contract was signed the day you were born."
The room tilted. This couldn't be real. "My parents—"
"The Bennetts are employees, nothing more. Your mother—Rose—couldn't have children. We offered her one, for a price. The arrangement suited everyone."
Tears burned behind my eyes. My entire life—a transaction. "She loves me."
Even as I said it, the words felt hollow. Like every other polite lie I'd told myself about the Bennetts. Mother's brittle smiles. Father's absent affection. The way they'd never quite looked at me like I belonged.
"Perhaps. But her love was never the point." He checked his watch. "You'll move into the family compound next month, after yourgraduation. You'll learn our business, our ways. When you turn twenty-five, you'll fulfill your purpose."
"And if I refuse?"
His smile never reached his eyes. "The Bennetts' protection expires today. Without the Altieri name, they have nothing. Without them, you have nothing. It's simple economics."
