The story of Ace and Sofia

My heart raced as I walked down the hall leading to my father’s office. I made sure my footsteps were heavy and loud; I wanted him to know I was coming. Standing before the heavy door, I placed my hand on the knob and turned it slowly. I was hesitant, but I pushed through anyway. I stood confidently in front of him, determined not to let him see my fear. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the sunlight. The air was thick with the stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke. "Yes, father?" I questioned strongly. He sat behind a massive wooden desk cluttered with papers, many of them damp from a spilled beer bottle. He kept his back to me as he spoke, but I could feel the intimidation seeping out of him. "You are my youngest child and only daughter," he declared in a tone that was both careless and demanding. "You are going to be married to Ace Hernandez." My heartbeat froze. Ace. "Hernandez as in... the Ace Hernandez?" My voice cracked with fear. "They own one of the biggest mafias, Father! I don't want to marry someone for power. I want someone I can love and trust. Someone who cares for me." My father spun his chair around, putting out his cigarette. He gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol. "Exactly. You will meet him in a week. You will make a good impression or there will be consequences. Do you understand?" "Yes, Father," I whispered, fighting to hide the surge of anger and frustration. "Get out of my office," he grumbled, turning away again. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I shut the door quietly. I didn't walk—I strutted—down the hallway, still stunned. I headed straight for my room and collapsed onto the bed, overwhelmed by a wave of hopelessness. I didn't know this man. Ace could be abusive, violent, or even worse, a drunk like my own father. His reputation in the Mafia was terrifying. I was terrified of being stuck with a man exactly like the one who just sold me off. A Moment of Comfort A light knock at the door broke through my thoughts. "Sofia?" my mother uttered softly as she entered. "Mamá," I responded, finally letting the sadness consume me. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a soothing embrace. I knew I couldn't change the situation, but for a moment, I just needed to feel safe. "Your father told me today what he was planning," she sighed, rubbing my back. "I wouldn't have let him if I’d known sooner." "I know," I sighed, hugging her tighter. "Your brothers are not going to be happy about this," she added, shaking her head. "Especially Raul." The Family Table Raul was my oldest brother, and surprisingly, the one I got along with best. Including him, I have five brothers: Raul, Stefano, Marco, Javi, and the youngest, Diego. We were all only a year apart, a tight-knit group—at least, we were supposed to be. We are Spanish, but my father had forbidden us from learning even a word of the language. He used it exclusively to speak with his friends and mafia alliances; it was his way of keeping his secrets and "ideas" hidden from his own children. "Anyways, come down and eat with your family. Dinner is ready," my mom said calmly. She stroked a strand of hair behind my ear and walked out. I followed her downstairs a few moments later, trying to compose myself. As I entered the dining room, Raul cheered. "Hey, Sof!" He moved to hug me, but stopped when he saw my face. "What's wrong?" His worried tone made my other four brothers stop and stare. "Nothing, just a long day," I lied, forcing a reassuring smile as I sat at the table. Just then, I watched my father walk in, looking as though he hadn't just destroyed my entire future. He sat down without a care in the world