Owned By The Sicilian Mafia King

Camila’s Pov “You’re going to die in this house if you don’t leave tonight.” I freeze at the sound of my father’s voice. It’s the first time I’ve heard him sound scared, and that terrifies me more than anything else ever could. I’m in his private study, the room where no one is allowed unless invited. The walls are lined with books he’s never read and paintings that cost more than most people’s houses. Outside, I can hear shouting and the sound of vehicles. Lots of vehicles. The kind that don’t belong here. “Papa, what’s happening?” I ask, but I already know. I’ve known for days. The phones have been ringing constantly. The guards have been more tense. My father has barely slept. Diego Morales—my father—looks at me like he’s seeing me for the last time. He’s still wearing his expensive suit, but it’s wrinkled now. His dark hair, usually perfectly styled, is messy. He looks smaller somehow, like the weight of everything is finally breaking him. “They’re coming for me,” he says quietly. “The Americans, the government, everyone. They know where I am.” “We can leave. We can go somewhere….” “No.” He cuts me off. “There’s nowhere to go. Not for me.” I watch as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out something small. It’s a pendant on a gold chain, simple and elegant. I’ve never seen it before. “This belonged to your mother,” he says, pressing it into my palm. “She wore it every day until the day she died.” My mother. I was four when she died. I don’t really remember her face anymore, just the feeling of her hands, soft and warm. My father never talks about her. “Papa, I don’t understand. Why are you giving me this now?” “Because you need to understand who you are,” he says. “You’re not just my daughter. You’re a Morales. And that means you have power whether you know it or not.” The pendant is warm in my hand. It’s heavier than it looks. When I turn it over, I notice there’s a small seam running along the edge. It’s not solid. There’s something inside. “Don’t open it,” my father says, seeing what I’m looking at. “Not here. Not yet. But when you’re safe, you’ll understand why this matters. There are codes inside. Account numbers. Information that very powerful people would kill for.” “You’re scaring me,” I whisper. “You should be scared,” he says, and his voice cracks slightly. “I’ve protected you your whole life, Camila. I’ve kept you safe inside these walls because the world outside is dangerous and cruel. But I’ve also kept you a prisoner. I know that. I’ve always known it.” He takes my face in his hands. His palms are rough, and I can smell his cologne mixed with something else. Sweat. Fear. “You’re too smart to stay here. Too good for this life. You were always meant for something better than this,” he continues. “But I was selfish. I wanted to keep you with me. I wanted to use you to strengthen our family through marriage and alliances. I wanted you to be mine forever.” “Papa—” “Listen to me,” he says urgently. “There’s someone coming. Someone you don’t know about. Years ago, before you were born, I made a deal with another family. The Rossis. In Sicily. It was a blood agreement—the kind our world doesn’t break.” I don’t say anything. I’ve grown up hearing stories about blood agreements, about ancient promises made between families. I’ve always thought they were just stories. “If anything ever happened to our family, if we ever fell, you were promised to them. As a bride. As a way to bind our families together.” The words don’t make sense at first. They just hang in the air between us like poison gas. “What do you mean, promised?” I ask slowly. “I mean you’re going to Sicily,” my father says. “You’re going to leave Mexico tonight, and you’re going to stay with the Rossi family until things settle. They’ve agreed to protect you.” “No.” I shake my head. “No, absolutely not. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out. There has to be another way.” “There isn’t,” he says flatly. “The rival cartels already know I’ve been arrested. They’ll be looking for you within hours. They think you know where I’ve hidden money. Billions of dollars. They’ll torture you to find it, and when they realize you don’t know, they’ll kill you just to send a message.” I feel like I can’t breathe. My whole life, I’ve been trapped inside this mansion. Every wall, every guard, every rule, it’s all been suffocating. But at least it was familiar. At least it was mine. “How long?” I ask. “Until it’s safe,” he says. “Or until you decide you don’t want to come back.” “And this Rossi family. You trust them?” My father’s jaw tightens. “I trust that they want the information in that pendant more than they want to hurt you. And I trust that their honor won’t let them break an agreement, even if they hate me. Matteo Rossi is the head of the family now. He’s dangerous, Camila. More dangerous than I am. But he keeps his word.” There’s a loud bang on the door. Someone is hitting it hard, over and over. “They’re here,” my father says calmly, but his hand trembles as he squeezes mine. “You need to go. Right now. There’s a car waiting in the underground garage. My driver knows where to take you. When you get to Sicily, ask for the Rossi compound in Palermo. They’ll be expecting you.” “Papa, wait….” “I love you, mija,” he says, pulling me into his chest. “I love you so much that I’m finally letting you go. Don’t come back for me. Don’t try to save me. Just live. Please, just live.” The door is breaking. I can hear multiple voices shouting in English and Spanish. My father pulls away and looks at me one final time. His eyes are wet, but his voice is steady. “The Rossis will want something from you. They always do. But you’re smarter than you think. You’re stronger than you know. Use that.” “What do they want?” I ask. He smiles sadly. “They want to use you just like I was going to use you. But maybe, maybe you’ll be clever enough to use them instead.” The door explodes inward.