Capo Dei Capi (Secrets of the Famiglia Part 1)

Chapter 3 (Aliyana)

Papa has kept Guilia on a very tight leash. She has responsibilities I would never have.

I wonder if my other sister, who was taken by my mother’s people, the Bratva would be like Guillia,

trapped.

Or as a half-blood like me, have the freedom I do, one of choice even if that choice is limited.

Guilia hardly got to talk to men. She came across as naïve when she did. Especially with ones as

handsome as Ren.

I am not surprised that she dotes on every word Ren says. Nor am I shocked when her longing gaze

stares at him without blinking either.

These moments, I am glad I am not a full-blooded Italian woman born into a powerful family. I am the

half-breed.

Sometimes I question myself, if my father’s decision to send me away was based solely on my

stepmother’s dislike toward me, or was it also the blood running through my veins.

Growing up, I hardly ever saw my family. I was in Chicago, attending school, trying to stay alive. When I

was home during break, my Papa allowed me freedom my sisters never got. I always ended up

spending it with Ren, Gabriel, Michel, and Mero. That list extended in the last few years to a few others.

Even now, Guilia and my younger sister, Serena spend most of their time with my stepmother taking up

the house or attending Gala's and functions in New York. I hardly ever get to see them.

I feel sorry for my two sisters. They will never know the joys of walking with friends on Campus or

attending Parties with football players. Small things which make life a bit better when you think back on

it while living as a prisoner in your own home.

A bit of happiness to store for those days you turn a blind eye to your husband's infidelity.

But I ache for my other sister more, the sacrificial lamb given to my mother’s people.

The Bratva are dangerous even in the 5th State. They trained some of their women to be killers and do Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

unspeakable things. The more I knew about them, the deeper that ache grew.

“Do you remember our first night in Chicago?” Ren asks me.

“We snuck up to the rooftop and Michel got drunk on cheap vodka,” I laugh, shaking my head.

When I was younger, Papa sent me to school in Chicago after he witnessed my stepmother’s deep

hate for me. I was the reminder of my mother’s existence and my father's lack of one.

Leaving my stepmother would have made Papa look weak, so Chicago was his solution.

I knew Papa hit her, and I didn’t like it then or now.

But there are times when I secretly wish I could slice her throat myself.

I still begrudge her for all those years ago, when she pushed me down the stairs. It was a Friday

evening, I was watching reruns of Friends and painting in my bedroom.

Guilia was making popcorn when it happened. She found me at the bottom of the staircase. It was the

one time I saw my sister lose it.

She dialed Papa, and he came home that evening in a bad mood. He carried me to my bed and called

for our house maker, Katherine, to pack my bags. It was the next morning when I found out I was

leaving for Chicago. The day my entire outlook on life changed. The day I changed.

“I remember you joining him.” Ren smiles as I groan from the memories.

It was a bad day. Papa explained to me the morning before I left, about the group of kids selected to go

to Chicago as a peace offering between two Italian syndicates, the Russo and the Catelli family.

It was the first time my father called me into his office for something besides a hug. He was letting me

go.

What he failed to mention was that I was the only girl amongst four boys.

What I learned after that was the gossip Papa had to deal with.

The questions that came from his decision followed his shadow for years. The implications it caused in

our family was no small thing. But I knew why he did it, the alternative was worse.

All he ever wanted was to protect me. Well, that is what he told me the morning I left. Didn’t mean it felt

right at the time.

I was only 11. Barely of age to take care of myself.

“We felt like we were pawned off,” Ren admits as his smile dims, reminiscing the memories the five of

us will never talk about. Sometimes silence is voice enough when it’s painted solely in fear.

“We were. I never thought we’ll become a family of our own,” I tell him as I touch his arm. A small

comfort to soften a heavy weight goes a long way in moments like these.

My sister remains quiet. She doesn't know what we did to survive in that place. Ren and Gabriel took

most of it. But we all took the scars that came with our price of survival. We just handled it differently.

For seven years, we stuck together. Romero, Michel, Lorenzo, Gabriel, and I. We didn't have a choice.

Our bond was forged in blood and war. There was no power on the table.

Our parents will never know what we endured. They think the Russo family are their allies, but the five

of us know different. The Russo family has no allies.

We knew that making the swap work was not an option. We had no choice but to become inseparable.

My father was unknowingly the reason for our strong relationship getting forged in the first place. Our

strong bloodlines and thirst for time made us unbreakable. After all, the five of us were the best of our

family names.

The Capo sent his own son, Lorenzo Catelli.

DeMarco sent their future heir, Gabriel.

The Moretti sent their Capo’s son, Michel, and the Raseto sent their only pureblood son, Romero.

My Papa sent me, his reminder of what he lost.

The 5 best families in the Catelli Famiglia.

In return, the Russo sent their own. One of them was their Princess, Elisa. Our Capo insisted a girl be

left in the care of the Famiglia, as I was.