Mafia's Collateral Women

Today began like any other ordinary day. I rose early, as I always do, and made my way downstairs for breakfast. My body refuses to indulge in extra sleep, a trait it has held steadfastly throughout the years. As I passed through the living room en route to the kitchen, my eyes inevitably fell upon the large portrait of my mother. It's become a daily ritual, this pause to remember her. Despite my best efforts, I feel her memory slipping away with the passage of time, like sand through clenched fingers. It's a sensation I loathe, desperately clinging to every memory, unwilling to let go. Yet, it seems futile. My mother's untimely demise, a victim to a heart attack when I was just thirteen, was a cruel twist of fate. The doctor cited an underlying heart condition, a silent threat that eluded detection until it was too late. They say I bear a striking resemblance to her, though I'm but a paler reflection of her olive skin. Compared to my mothers olive skin I look like a ghost. I inherited neither her height nor my father's, instead, I inherited the short gene from my grandmother. I am petite except when it comes to my breast. Since I am so small my breasts look bigger than they actually are. But hey I am not complaining. With long, dark brown hair cascading around my shoulders and large, light blue eyes, some insist on calling them lavender, though, let's face it, they're simply blue. There's no need for poetic exaggeration. Lost in thought before my mother's portrait, I'm abruptly pulled back to reality by the sound of my father calling out for me. "Victoria Walsh, get your ass in here and eat!" My father's voice boomed, already hinting at his foul mood. His temper was as familiar to me as the morning routine. He had this aura about him, reminiscent of a Mollywood mobster, though I knew such comparisons were ridiculous. I made my way to the kitchen, where Marnia, our maid, was busy preparing breakfast. Taking my seat at the rectangular table, I strategically positioned myself as far away from my father as possible. He was engrossed in the pages of the New York Times, but his calm facade shattered as he crumpled the paper and unleashed a tirade of curses. “Those mother fuckers have no idea what they are saying about me. I swear to god I want to put a hit on everyone of those bastards. They have no idea what they're saying about me," he spat venomously, his anger radiating off him. I wisely kept quiet, opting instead to sip my orange juice. Marina soon brought over eggs, sausage, and toast, refilling my father's coffee. I see him pull out his flask from his suit and add some brown liquor to his coffee. It was a signal for me to maintain my distance. I reached for the TV remote, hoping to divert attention away from his simmering rage. However, the news only seemed to fan the flames as the headline flashed across the screen - Jacobs and Son had suffered a staggering loss of 100 million in stocks due to a sour deal. My father, the CEO of the company, though not its owner, was visibly seething. "Victoria, turn that f*****g s**t off now!" he bellowed, and I complied without hesitation. With a stormy exit, he sped off in his Jag, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. Alone in the aftermath, I turned to my phone, quickly scouring the internet for answers. The truth revealed itself - the failed merger with Rodriguez Co had sent Jacobs and Son's stock plummeting, leading to investigations of financial misconduct. Suddenly, my father's prolonged absence from home made sense. Today marked the first time I'd seen him in two weeks, and now, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on my shoulders. Heading back upstairs to prepare for the day, I readied myself for a shopping excursion with Ashley and Amber, childhood friends who, though they claim we're best friends, often leave me feeling like a mere backup plan, a convenient wallet. But truth be told, their company fills a void, as my father's overbearing restrictions on my social life leave me feeling isolated. My father's paranoia about people using me for money is relentless. Yet, he allows Ashley and Amber into my life. Despite my attempts at rebellion, sneaking out occasionally, my father always seems to be one step ahead, his surveillance tactics are effective. He even extends this to my romantic endeavors, by his infamous scare tactic on my prom date, a traumatic event that still haunts me to this day. At 19 years old, I find myself suffocated by his overprotective tendencies. I am 19 and he treats me like I am 12. Dating is subject to his approval, his attempt at matchmaking with the CFO's son serving as a prime example of his heavy-handed approach. He even tried to set me up once with his CFO’s son and let's just say that was boring as hell. I swear I could have fallen asleep on that date. All he did was talk about business and how the company was doing. He works there too as head of accounting. Oh my god it was the worst date ever. Yet another reminder of the suffocating grip my father maintains over my life. As I began to dress for my outing with Ashley and Amber, slipping into a short black dress accented by a vibrant red jacket and matching heels, a sound of distress caught my attention. I run towards the source, I found Marina, our maid, doubled over in the throes of a migraine. "Marina, are you okay?" I asked, concern evident in my voice. She assured me it was just a migraine but indicated she needed her medication. Marina I can get your medication. She then mentioned she'd run out of her prescription the week prior, so I insisted on driving her to the pharmacy, offering to pick up my own prescription while we were there. Marina hesitated, but I was adamant. There was no way she would be driving in her current state. Helping her into my landrover, I took the wheel and set off towards the pharmacy. Along the way, I phoned Ashley and Amber, informing them of my delay but urging them to start without me. It was a detour from our plans, but Marina's well-being took precedence. As we navigated the streets, I couldn't shake the feeling that this unexpected turn of events might lead to something more than just a trip to the pharmacy. As Marina lay in the reclined seat, her condition deteriorating, we were jolted by a sudden impact. The car had been T-boned, the force of the collision slamming into Marina's side. Panic surged through me as Marina cried out in pain, and I scrambled out of the car to assess the situation. The scene was chaotic, blood staining the wreckage as I frantically dialed 911. Strangers rushed to our aid, their concerned voices blending with the blare of sirens approaching in the distance. Desperate, I tried reaching my father, my cries drowned out by the chaos around me. After several attempts, he finally answered, his initial irritation giving way to alarm upon hearing my distress. He was barely able to understand what I was saying about my location through my tears. I was relieved when he assured me he'd come to me, aided by the location tracking on my phone. As emergency services arrived, the severity of the situation became painfully clear. The other driver was pronounced dead, his lifeless form will haunt me. I have never seen a dead body before. Marina, though injured, assured me she would be okay, urging me not to worry as they loaded her into the ambulance. Suddenly, my father emerged from a limousine, rushing to my side and enveloping me in a tight embrace. His concern was noticeable as he reassured me. Concerned for my well-being, he conferred with the paramedic and police officer, ultimately deciding that while I should be evaluated by a doctor, my injuries appeared minor. Taking charge of the situation, he guided me away from the commotion, leading me towards the limousine with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. In that moment, his familiar presence offered a sense of safety. Victoria I need you to go sit down and I will talk to the police. I will handle this. As I entered the limousine, my gaze fell upon the three men seated inside. The first, on the left side, resembled a bear in both size and demeanor. Towering and muscular, with a massive scar cutting across his face, he seemed entirely absorbed in his phone, oblivious to my presence. Beside him sat a slender yet muscular man, dressed impeccably like a businessman but has youthful energy. With dark brown hair, brown eyes, and visible tattoos adorning his neck and hands, he exuded an air of casual confidence, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. On the other side of the limousine sat a man in a suit He had tattoos peeking out from beneath his shirt. Light brown hair, light brown eyes, and an eagle tattoo on his chest hinted at a rugged charm, while his aura exuded an unmistakable arrogance. He is sexy; like bad boy sexy you see in the movies.He locked eyes with me, his stare unwavering as I settled as far away from them as possible, still grappling with the aftermath of the accident. As tears continued to stream down my face, I reached for my phone, hastily informing the girls of the change in plans and the car wreck. Glancing at my reflection in the phone's camera, I winced at the sight of smeared makeup, evidence of the emotional turmoil I'd endured. My legs bore scratches and dried blood, further reminders of the chaos that had ensued. Suddenly, the man with the eagle tattoo who sat closest to me offered a bottle of water, his gesture of kindness cutting through the tension. Nodding in gratitude, I accepted, finally allowing myself a moment to relax. After I grab the water he introduces himself. Hello Victoria I am Ace Jacobs and this is my little brother James Jacobs and our associate Duron. I immediately stiffened in my seat. Are you Joe’s sons? They both nod with an amused look on their face. Then Ace says we have not seen you since you were a little girl, my have you grown into a beauty. I just roll my eyes and James gives out a small laugh. Ace then gives James a death glare. Ace then hands me a flask. You want something to calm your nerves? I won't tell your father. He smirks. I says f**k it and take a drink. It burns like a mother fucker and I start to cough. I then grab my water and start to chug it. I hand him back his flask. What is that? Oh, it's my special recipe. He then takes a drink of it before putting it back in his suit pocket. Then my father comes into the limo and sits beside me. Finally Ace quit staring at me. My father grabs my hand and says I am going to take you to the office and I will have one of my guards take you home after one of the company's doctors takes a look at you. Then Ace interrupts, I’ll take her home, you do not need a guard. Then my father scowls at him, no Ace we have meetings to attend. Ace then laughs and says Robert you might have been my fathers number two but you're not mine. You will follow orders. I will take her. My father stays silent. This is not like him to stay silent. Everyone just stays quiet and you can feel the tension in the air. My father then takes a drink from his flask. Twenty minutes go by. We stepped into the towering skyscraper that housed Jacobs and Sons, the atmosphere was imposing, reflecting the magnitude of the business empire it represented. Specializing in various sectors including security, law, media, and consulting, with a few nightclubs under its ownership, the company commanded a significant presence in the city. Ascending to the 36th floor, my father's domain, I was instructed to wait in the lobby with Tina, his assistant. Tina, a former lipstick model turned personal assistant. I know she has been f*****g my father but I say nothing. He thinks I have no idea he has a girlfriend. She is nice but overly nice at times. She wants me to be best friends with her and it drives me crazy. I try to be nice to her since she has been making my father happy but it's hard at times. As Tina tended to me, offering a warm towel to clean the blood from my legs, the company doctor arrived, assessing my condition with clinical efficiency. Fortunately, there were no fractures, but he prescribed medication to alleviate my nerves and aid in sleep, cautioning me about potential pain in the coming days. Meanwhile, the tension within my father's office reached a boiling point, audible even from our vantage point in the lobby. I can hear my father and Ace yelling. It sounds very heated. After about an hour of yelling I see Ace walking out the door and slams it. The last thing he says to my father is I will give you two days to get everything in order and don't you dare think about running.