The Life inside a Mafia Family

Restless Echoes

(Ella’s POV)

The gates of the estate slid open the moment the black car approached, the iron bars parting like a jaw ready to swallow me whole. I stepped out still wearing the shimmer of the masquerade on my skin—perfume, warm lights, the ghost of that stranger’s touch lingering on my waist.

I hated how my heart reacted just remembering it.

I shouldn’t have even been there.

The only reason I attended that stupid party was because Father insisted I go.

“Represent the family,” he’d said.

“Show presence.”

“People talk when we don’t appear.”

I didn’t care about any of it. I had no intentions of getting involved in mafia politics, alliances, or whatever power games they played. But when my father gave an order… I had no choice but to follow.

So I went.

I wore the dress.

I put on the mask.

I played the role.

And now here I was, pretending the night hadn’t shaken something inside me.

My heels clicked on the marble tiles as I entered the mansion, the hall dim except for the soft golden lamps along the stairs. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that felt like it was waiting for something.

I slipped off my shoes and held them in one hand, my fingers trembling slightly. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves.

It was restlessness.

The masked man from the party—his voice, his touch, the way he held me like he already knew me—kept replaying in my mind. I didn’t even know his name, yet he’d made my breath catch in a way that felt dangerous. A way that felt wrong.

But God… I couldn’t forget.

I walked down the hallway, intending to go straight to my room, when a soft thump from the right wing caught my attention. Then a muffled sound.

A voice.

A moan.

My brows rose. That wing belonged to my sister, Elira.

“What the…” I whispered to myself.

I moved quietly, curiosity pulling me forward even though I knew I shouldn’t. A soft gasp escaped someone behind the half-closed guest room door, followed by a low male groan.

Oh, hell.

Selline.

And someone with her.

I took one more step and the door’s crack opened just enough for the scene to unfold.

Selline—my 22-year-old sister—was pressed against the wall, her hands tangled in the shirt of one of our bodyguards. One of the new ones. The tall one with sharp eyes and tattoos peeking from his collar.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her breath shaky and desperate as she clung to him. His mouth moved along her neck, hungry, almost devouring, making her let out soft, trembling moans that filled the room.

Their clothes were still on—mostly—but barely holding on.

“Don’t stop,” Selline whispered, her voice breathless. “Please… I need it.”

The bodyguard groaned softly, holding her tighter, his hand gripping her thigh as if trying to keep control and failing badly. “You’re going to get me fired,” he muttered against her skin.

“Then don’t let anyone hear,” she replied with a wicked smile, dragging his lips back to hers.

God. It was wild. Messy. Risky.

Exactly her style.

I didn’t mean to watch. But the shock glued my feet to the floor for one more second as she rocked against him, her moans growing hotter, the tension building thick in the air. Her head fell back, lips parted, breath shaking as he pressed her harder against the wall, his hands moving in ways that made her gasp again.

That was enough.

I stepped away quickly before either of them noticed, my face burning. The sounds followed me into the hallway—soft, needy, breathless—until the door finally shut behind me as I walked off.

By the time I reached my room, I leaned against the door and exhaled sharply.

What a night.

A stranger who made my pulse race…

My sister practically devouring a bodyguard in the next room…

And a restless feeling that wouldn’t settle in my chest.

I sat on the edge of my bed, touching the mask still hanging from my wrist. The cool metal brushed my fingers, and for a moment, I closed my eyes.

His hand had been on my waist.

His breath near my ear.

His voice saying my name like he owned it.

I didn’t know who he was.

I didn’t know the danger he carried.

I didn’t want anything to do with mafia affairs — yet somehow I had stepped right into the center of something I couldn’t explain.

And I already knew one thing:

I was in trouble.

Morning crept into my room long before I was ready for it.

I didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment I was staring at the mask in my hand, replaying every second of the masquerade, and the next I was waking up to the soft glow of sunlight brushing my curtains.

My head felt heavy.

My chest even heavier.

But the silence didn’t last.

Three firm knocks echoed against my door.

Not gentle.

Not hesitant.

Purposeful.

My breath caught. Only one person in this house knocked like that.

I pulled myself out of bed, slipping into a robe as I walked to the door.

When I opened it—

Father stood there.

Tall. Composed. Wearing his usual black suit even though it was barely past sunrise. His expression unreadable, but sharp enough to slice through whatever excuses I might've tried to muster.

“Ella.” His voice was firm. “Breakfast. After that, meet me in my office.”

My pulse tightened.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

He gave one nod — the kind that meant ‘no questions. Just obey’ — then walked away without another word.

I swallowed hard.

Great.

Perfect.

Exactly the kind of morning I needed.

Breakfast passed in stiff silence.

Selline wasn’t there — probably still asleep… or still busy with the bodyguard she practically swallowed last night. The memory burned my ears all over again.

Father didn’t speak during the meal. He barely looked at me. But every second of that silence felt intentional, like he was letting me drown in it before dragging me into whatever conversation waited behind his office door.

By the time I finished eating, my nerves were a knot in my stomach.

I stood outside his office, the double mahogany doors looming like a sentence waiting to be delivered.

I knocked quietly.

“Come in,” he said.

His office always felt colder than the rest of the house. Dark wood, shelves of old ledgers and files, a massive desk that made the room feel more like a throne room than a workspace.

Father stood behind it, hands clasped in front of him as he stared out the window.

He didn’t look at me when he spoke.

“You handled yourself well at the masquerade.”

It wasn’t praise.

It was an evaluation.

“Thank you… I guess.”

My voice was small, unsure.

He finally turned to face me.

“You’re twenty-two now, Ella. Old enough. Smart enough. And as a Valerio, you will not remain on the sidelines forever.”

My heart dropped.

“I don’t want to be involved in mafia affairs,” I said quietly. “You know that.”

“And I’ve allowed that,” he replied. “For years. But times are changing. Our alliances are shifting. Eyes are on us.”

He stepped closer, his gaze sharp as a blade.

“You must represent this family. Properly. Publicly. Formally.”

I shook my head. “Father—”

“This is not a request.”

The room felt suddenly smaller.

Tighter.

Harder to breathe in.

“You attended the masquerade because I ordered you to,” he continued. “And you will attend many more. Negotiations. Meetings. Events where your presence matters.”

My fingers curled at my sides.

I hated this.

I hated the cage disguised as family duty.

The responsibility disguised as legacy.

“What exactly do you want from me?” I asked.

His answer came instantly.

“Training.”

My breath froze.

“Training?” I repeated.

“You will learn what it takes to be a Valerio.”

His tone slid into a deeper authority I couldn’t challenge.

“Combat. Discipline. Firearms. Strategy. Everything required for survival — and power.”

My body tensed.

I had expected lectures. Warnings. Maybe even forced public appearances.

But this…

This was different.

“I’m not…” I swallowed, “I’m not built for that.”

“You will be,” he said simply. “Starting tomorrow.”

The weight of his words sank into my chest like stone.

Tomorrow.

Training.

Mafia life.

This wasn’t a suggestion.

This was a path he’d already chosen for me.

“Father,” my voice broke slightly, “I don’t want this life.”

His eyes softened — barely, but enough for me to see the man behind the Don for just a second.

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” he said quietly. “It matters what the family needs.”

My stomach twisted.

The conversation was over.

He had nothing more to say.

“Dismissed,” he added.

I walked out slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The hallway seemed longer this time. Emptier. And the moment I reached my room, I shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath.

One night at a masquerade had already tangled my life more than I could handle.

Now my father wanted to drag me deeper into a world I never wanted.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to calm the storm inside me.

And then…

That stranger’s touch flashed in my memory again.

His voice.

His hands.

The way I felt when he whispered my name like it belonged to him.

A shiver ran through me.

Everything was changing.

Faster than I could keep up.

And tomorrow…

Training or not…

I had no idea if I was ready.

But ready or not—

I was already in the middle of something dangerous.

Something that scared me…

And thrilled me just as much.

I didn’t realize how long I stood there against my bedroom door, staring at nothing, letting my father’s words echo in my mind like a sentence I couldn’t outrun.

Training.

Combat.

Firearms.

Strategy.

It didn’t sound like “preparation.”

It sounded like a life sentence.

I pushed away from the door and walked toward my vanity, letting myself sink into the chair. For a moment I just looked into the mirror. The girl staring back at me looked tired.

But beneath that… something anxious.

Something restless.

Something waking up.

“I’m not ready for this,” I whispered.

But ready or not, the wheels were already moving.

I brushed my hair in slow strokes, trying to ease the tension crawling under my skin. The more I tried to calm myself, the more my mind drifted — to the masquerade, to the masked stranger, to the way his touch lingered like a secret I wasn’t supposed to keep.

Why was he the piece I couldn’t shake off?

Why did he get into my head more than the fact I was being forced into mafia training?

I didn’t know.

And I didn’t want to admit the answer creeping up at the edges of my thoughts.

A knock on my door broke the silence.

Not Father.

Not that firm command-like knock.

This one was softer.

“Ella?”

It was Selline.

I hesitated before opening the door. She stood there already dressed, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, looking surprisingly alive considering last night.

Her eyes flicked to my face instantly.

“You look like hell.”

“Good morning to you too,” I muttered.

She stepped inside without waiting for permission, closing the door behind her.

“Did Father talk to you?” she asked, crossing her arms.

I looked away. “Yes.”

“And?” she pressed.

“He wants me to represent the Valerio name… and he wants me in training. Starting tomorrow.”

Selline let out a long exhale. “I knew it.”

“You knew?” I snapped. “You could’ve warned me.”

She shrugged, guilt flickering across her face. “I overheard him talking to Sergio yesterday. He’s been planning this for a while.” Her gaze softened. “Ella… you’re the heir.”

I stiffened. “No. You are.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m older, yes. But you’re the one with the clean reputation. You’re the one people actually like.”

Then she smirked faintly. “Also… Father says I have a ‘discipline problem.’”

I snorted. “You think?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not saying it’s fair. But you know how Father is. Once he decides something, that’s it.”

My stomach tightened again.

Selline sat on the edge of my bed, her tone turning unexpectedly serious.

“You’re scared.”

I looked at the floor. “Wouldn’t you be?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she took a deep breath.

“Ella… being a Valerio is not a choice. It’s a burden. But it can be a weapon too. And Father doesn’t push unless he thinks it’s necessary.”

I sighed. “I never wanted this world.”

“I know.”

She gave me a soft, almost sad smile. “But this world wants you.”

Her words hit harder than I expected.

Silence settled between us before she finally pushed off the bed.

“Whatever happens,” she added, hand resting on the doorknob, “I’ll help you. Even if Father pretends he doesn’t care… I do.”

My chest warmed a little. “Thank you.”

She paused, then gave me a mischievous grin.

“And don’t worry. I’ll make sure that bodyguard doesn’t distract me tonight.”

I groaned. “Selline — please.”

Her laugh echoed down the hall as she walked away.

I collapsed back into my chair, half frustrated, half relieved.

But one thing was clear:

This wasn’t just about training.

This wasn’t just about representing the family.

Father was preparing me for something bigger.

Something he saw coming.

And deep inside, even if I didn’t want to admit it…

I felt it too.

A shift in the air.

A warning.

Like storm clouds forming on the horizon.

And against every instinct I had —

I knew my life was about to change.

For better.

For worse.

And for reasons I still didn’t understand.