The Mafia’s possessive Obsession

Chapter1

Rosa’s POV

“You f*****g little b***h!” My stepfather roars as I'm shoved harshly into the living room. His hands struck the back of my head and I stumbled forward, losing my balance, unable to catch myself before I sprawled over the cold wooden floor, the same one I'd spent hours scrubbing till they were shiny, a dull splitting pain shuddered through my head.

“You think you can hide money from me? "In my own house?” he snarled, taking the envelope from me. My envelope. My savings.

I lunged for it stupidly because even after all this time, I still hadn't learned that fighting back would only get me into more trouble.

“No! Give it back! Mammà needs that! "That's her only chance!” I sobbed as I continued to struggle for the envelope.

My family home used to be filled with love and laughter, alive with warmth until papà died eighteen years ago in a car crash when I was five. Life has been a steady descent to hell since then. Seven years later, Mamma remarried and brought Enrique into our lives. At first, he was the perfect stepfather, loving, and warm. He would say grace at dinner and bring flowers on Sundays.

I thought I was lucky to have a stepfather who loved both Mamma and me. Mamma trusted him, she gave him everything, even the money Papà left us before his death. She trusted Enrique to manage it and take over as the head of the household, but it got to his head and before long, he changed into a completely different person. One who was violent, selfish, and greedy. He blew all of our money on gambling and women.

At first, the violence was only directed at Mamma, but then, she got sick and I became his new punching bag. I was twenty-three, working multiple shifts to pay off my mother’s medical bills, and still stuck under the same roof as a man who enjoyed seeing me break.

I could've left. ‘I’ve thought about it a hundred times, but I couldn't abandon Mamma, not after everything we have been through.

I gasped as another blow knocked the wind out of my lungs and I fell to the ground again with a loud thud. Before I could push myself up, Enrique’s foot connected with my left side and I bit my bottom lip to keep the cry of pain from escaping.

“You think you're better than me?” he snarled, the stench of alcohol oozing off him. “Hiding your money while your sweet stepfather drowns in debt?”

Another kick to my sides makes the air explode from my lungs, my vision blurred and an agonizing pain radiates through me, causing tears to fall silently down my cheek. Begging or pleading doesn't help either. I learned that a long time ago. If I dared to say a word, it would only anger him further, so I curled into a fetal position and wrapped my arms around my waist as he continued to descend on me with his foot.

Heavenly Father, please save me from this man. I don’t think I can hold on much longer.

Enrique shoved his foot against my back, putting all of his weight on me as he sneered. “One of these days, I’ll make sure you join your b***h of a mother in whatever hell she’s in.”

He takes his foot off me and I hear him walk out of the living room.

That bastard.

Pushing myself up, I held in a groan from the pain radiating through my entire body. Using the wall as support, I stumbled to my bedroom, and when I finally got to my safe space, I shut the door before sliding to the floor. Silent tears rolled down my cheek and I didn't bother wiping them. My side throbbed, my cheek burned, but the real pain sat in my chest.

That envelope had everything I'd scraped together for the past year, every single dollar I didn't spend. It wasn't much, but it was supposed to help keep Mamma alive. Her condition was getting worse. The doctor said she had developed end-stage cardiomyopathy and needed surgery. That money was all I had, all I could do to help her, and now, it was gone.

Feeling trapped and hopeless, I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.

Not long after, Enrique pounds his fists against my bedroom door, making me startle.

“I'm heading to the pub. Go clean up the mess in the living room.”

Closing my eyes shut, I swallowed the tears before speaking. “Okay.”

I heard him stomp away and seconds later, the front was closed shut. I pulled myself up then darted to my bathroom and grabbed a couple of aspirin to help dull the aches in my side.

Walking to the living room to clean up the mess Enrique had made, I picked up the alcohol bottle from the floor then my eyes caught sight of pieces of shattered glass and the contents of the alcohol trickling down the walls. I cleaned the living room in silence with nothing but the sounds coming from the TV, then I froze. The newscaster, a beautiful woman with a blue chiffon blouse, black pants, and red lipstick, had just mentioned something about a murder.

“… governor candidate, Antonio Sarto, was found dead early this morning outside his estate. Though no group has claimed responsibility, investigators are looking into possible connections to the Italian Cosa Nostra…”

My stomach turned.

Five families rule the Cosa Nostra and could very well bring New York to its knees— Romano, Torrisi, De Luca, Falco, Renaldi.

Men who didn't blink twice before taking lives they didn't create, literal demons dressed in designer suites. No one dared to go against them out of fear, but the most feared and brutal of them all was Dante Romano. They call him ‘Il diavolo’.

I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes.

I hated men like that.

Men who thought power meant control, that fear meant loyalty.

Men like Enrique.

No.

Men worse than him.

I couldn't imagine living in that world. I wouldn't even be able to survive it.