Chapter 4
Ophelia POV
My bag was heavy with money as I sneaked
through the door only to immediately bump into the one man I wasn't trying to
avoid, my sneaky father. It was clear he’d been up to something shady, and just
like before, he hadn’t explained a damn thing to me.
“You’re here,”
I gripped the bag tightly. The chance of him
searching it was slim but not zero.
“Yeah.”
“You’re right on time. Join us in the living
room?”
“For what?”
“We’re having a little family meeting,” he
replied, gesturing toward the cramped living room in his worn pajamas. I made
my way to the doorway and saw everyone already seated on the long couch. The
house felt both too big and too small at the same time.
“I hope you guys are figuring something out,”
I said, pressing my back against the ugly, peeling wall. The air was thick with
the stale smell of cigarettes. I glared at Wren, how dare she accuse me of
smelling bad when the whole room reeked like a plane’s exhaust? Always smoky.
And not in a warm, cozy way—disgustingly smoky.
“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do,” my
father replied.
“No shit,” I scoffed, shooting a look at Mom.
She hadn’t even bothered to visit Joseph. She should have. This was her
husband’s mess to clean up, just like anyone else dealing with the fallout.
“So, what’s the explanation, Dad?” I
demanded, dropping my bag to the floor.
Wren sneered, “That bag sounds heavy. Sold
your body to pay up? Love a girl who’ll do anything for her daddy?”
“Fuck you, Wren,”
“Ophelia, don’t speak to your aunt that way,”
Mom warned.
I gritted my teeth.
“Would you all just listen?” Dad interrupted,
stepping into the center of the room. “I have a lot to explain. I was about to
start when you came in.”
“Wow, you started without me? No shit,” I
muttered sarcastically.
“Well, no one told you to go visit your
beat-up boyfriend,” Wren shot back. She was a constant source of trouble in my
life. Maybe that other woman should’ve beaten her instead—it wouldn’t have been
so heartbreaking. Seeing Joseph in that state, and then him dumping me—I still
hadn’t processed any of it.
“Which, by the way, is our fault. Well, your
fault, Dad. What happened?”
He stared ahead like a blank wall. “I was
getting to that.” His fingers intertwined nervously. “A couple years back, I
developed a bit of a gambling problem. We didn’t own the house yet, so I
borrowed money to gamble and won the house. But I never paid the money back.”
There were so many holes in that story it
could’ve been sieved through a strainer. Nothing was adding up.
“Borrowed money from who, exactly?”
“Her,” he said quietly.
"Weren’t you listening?" Wren
retorted.
"Shut up," I shot back. "Isn’t
she Italian? You borrowed from her? Strange—I’ve never even seen her around
town."
“It was from her bank,” Dad explained. “She
launders her money through various channels. I borrowed from the bank.”
“So basically, if you don’t pay her back, the
house goes into foreclosure, right?”
“That’s how it should be.”
I glanced around the room. “But in her world,
she doesn’t want the house. She wants me. People like her—bad people—they don’t
run their business straight. There’s always something dark behind it.”
Dad struggled to find the right words. I
wished he would just say it wasn’t true. “What did she say to you, Dad?”
“That she needs you to be her wife,”
Hmm. Interesting. But I was more interested
in what he said next. Resting my head against the wall, my eyes locked on him.
“What did you say?”
Everyone watched him intently.
He let out a few heavy sigh, one thick with
aggravation and bad news.
“There’s nothing else I can do,” he muttered.
“I tried to reason with her, but she only wants you. That was the deal.”
“Was that the original deal?”
“Ah... I thought it was a joke when I signed
the contract. I mean, it was a bank, for Christ’s sake.”
My mother gasped, then broke down in tears.
At least I knew she’d miss me when that damn woman came for me. Everyone’s
faces were neutral, but Wren’s looked like she couldn’t wait to take over my
entire room and all the space that came with it.
“So, you signed a contract without reading
it, without understanding what you were really agreeing to, and now you’re
acting like everything’s fine? My life is what you call ruined.”
“I was just trying to put a roof over our
heads!” he shouted defensively, trying to shift the blame onto me.
“You practically traded me for a house.”
His shoulder pressed against the wall as he
leaned outward. “It was for the best. I provided shelter, and this is the
thanks I get.”
“Gohn!” my mother stood up in defense. “This
is our child. You practically sold her off.”
“I didn’t sell or trade you. I thought the
contract was a bluff. Which bank would really ask for a person as collateral?”
“A shady bank owned by that Vincenzo woman.
What kind of work does she do that she launders money through a banking system
this far in America?” My mother asked the right questions, while I just stood
there, stunned and speechless.
“She deals drugs. I don’t know. What aren’t
Italians known for?”
“Mafia and gangsters,” I answered. It was all
written on her—the goons, the wealth, her beauty, the way she spoke so
effortlessly. She was Mafia. But this wasn’t the time to get all soft over her
looks. Did I believe she wanted me as her wife? Hell no. Italy is
full of beautiful women. She already had wives. But taking me out of the
country was the lie she had to sell that I was her wife. Once I was over there,
I’d be as good as dead.
My mother looked at me. “What?”
“You asked what her work is. Mafia.”
“I’m sure this is all some kind of joke,”
Wren said, digging for a cigarette. I hated how everyone except Mom treated
this like a joke.
“She’s planning to take me at the end of the
week. Do you know what happens at the end of the week?”
Wren rested the cigarette between her burnt,
trembling lips and looked up at me with her wrinkled eyes. “The start of a new
week?”
This fucking bitch.
“Of course no one gives a damn.” Me and my
family were never close. We all did our own thing. They were lazy, just letting
things slide. I had a different temperament. “This week, my life was about to
change. I was going to leave this stupid family behind. I wasn’t ever coming
back. My life was going to be perfect. I’d wake up in a nice bed, without the
smell of morning farts. I hated this family, and now I have even more reasons
to hate it. Because I was practically sold for a house I’ve been uncomfortable
living in for the past three years.”
“Calm down.”
“Ugh! How much did you borrow, Dad?” Maybe I
could pay it off and escape this nightmare. But somewhere deep down, it all
felt inescapable.
“Half a million.”
I sighed, defeated. I still needed $250 more.
What the hell was I going to do? Sell my body? Honestly, I already felt sold
after everything I’d heard.
“Okay. How much do you have?” I asked my
father. No one looked like they had anything to contribute; I could see it in
their faces. “I have $250 already.”
“Wow!” Wren exclaimed.
“Shut up,” I growled. “I saw her. She
proposed to me. I sold the ring at Gamps’ pawn shop. I don’t want to explain—I
just want to know if she’ll accept some kind of down payment.”
“I don’t know. She seems pretty set on you
going back to her,” my father said.
“Well, I won’t. I have some money saved for
college and other stuff. What about you all?”
“I’m dry,” my father admitted.
If Dad was dry, everyone else was too. They
had to be serious. They had to be.
“So no one can contribute?”
We all stared at each other like sitting
fucking ducks.
“Okay, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long
day. Honestly, I hate you guys.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” Mom said softly.
“No, Mom. I was supposed to go to college. I want to go to
college. I want to be something.”
Wren rudely waved me off. “Look, girl, you
won’t be the first or last to not go to college. Cool your red ass.”
I growled. “Who are you talking to, old
woman? You’ve whored your life away and ruined it, and now you’re telling me I
don’t need college?”
“You don’t.”
“Goodnight!” I barked
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