Chosen By The Mafioso

04

Dominic Salvatore

"I'm tired of this s**t!" I exclaimed.

My father continued to screw with my life, even in death. I had recently discovered that to access a portion of my fortune, I had to get married.

This fortune would expand my business by nearly eighty percent.

The Cosa Nostra is an Italian-origin organization that currently has its headquarters in New York. I was the Boss, or Don, and this position was passed down to me, so to speak, as an inheritance from father to son.

I had no affection for my father, and I have no qualms admitting that. When he was gone, everything became calmer. My mother stopped being beaten daily and finally found relief from her suffering. I silently thanked God for that. However, shortly after, she passed away due to cancer, and I tried my best to make her last days in this miserable world more bearable than the eighteen years of suffering we endured under my father's rule.

He never seemed to like me. He always said, "Dominic, feelings are for the weak. I raised you to be my successor, don't disappoint me." He made it clear that, for the mafia, having a son was important. My mother told me that when she found out she was expecting a boy, she immediately thanked God, as it meant my father wouldn't be furious.

When I didn't carry out tasks as he desired, he punished me coldly and calculatedly. That was the only pain I felt because, other than that, the only thing that mattered to me was...

Being a Salvatore was complex and complicated. I was taught to hate, but I wasn't born that way. No one is born evil; the world corrupts us.

But today, I was no longer the poor boy who only suffered beatings; I was the Don, and the only one with the power to strike others.

I owned nightclubs, casinos, and other properties. Most of them were illegal businesses.

The funniest part was that everyone wanted my position, thinking that being the leader meant sitting in a damn chair and doing nothing. That's where they were wrong. I had to do many things—manage my businesses, oversee everything closely, make alliances, and ensure that those who deserved to die did.

I was suffering from the pressure of needing to get married. A marriage within the mafia was important for a few reasons: heirs, status, and respect. The family believed that the more impressive the woman by your side, the more power you commanded.

I didn't intend to marry at all; I had my women for that. With them, I could simply lie down, do as I pleased, and leave before dawn. But it was important to me at the right time, and that time had come. At twenty-five years old, the pressure was only increasing, especially because I had so much to manage.

The words of my consigliere lingered in my mind, "Find a wife to show, and they'll leave you alone, Don."

On that day, my mind was filled with various thoughts. I wondered if it was really profitable to find a wife. Then, Paolo, my consigliere, gave me a great idea.

I thought this idea was stupid. But at the same time, even if I didn't want to, getting married was important for business, for my image within the organization, for everything.

But why would I marry someone who would be loyal and let me continue my bachelor life? I needed just one thing: a marriage of convenience.

I would do what was necessary to keep my businesses running and relieve the pressure on me.

It wouldn't be possible to marry for love because I only loved myself.

"Don, are you leaving already?" Paolo asked.

"Yes, I have some business to take care of."

Our involvement with the mafia began early. My grandfather was the boss, my father became the boss, and then I did. I holstered my gun and left with my driver.

I went to settle some pending business, stopping at one of the Salvatore hotels. Occasionally, I checked the activity and profits it was generating.

I was a mafioso, but I wasn't wanted. I had people to do the dirty work for me. Until my house of cards falls, I will just be a business manager and a millionaire.

After leaving the hotel, I decided to stop by a café. It wasn't a habit of mine, but today, it would be interesting to distract myself.

When I looked to the side, I saw her. A girl with brownish-blond hair, beautiful eyes, working as a waitress. I immediately had an idea. If I needed a wife, it would be someone who wouldn't demand much and wouldn't interfere with my bachelor life.

I observed her calmly. All her actions seemed calculated, and she appeared to be sad. I offered her a hundred-dollar tip; she was surprised but eventually accepted, seemingly unimpressed by the money.

I left with a pensive mind. This woman was different from the others, at least in appearance. She seemed sad, pure, and innocent.

Exactly what I needed.

I couldn't just marry one of the women I hooked up with. That would be shooting myself in the foot and jeopardizing my businesses.

When I returned to the café, I took note of her name. When she spoke, I passed it on to my right-hand man.

"Paolo, find out everything about that girl. She's the one I want to be my wife."

"A waitress?"

"What does it matter? As long as she stays quiet and obeys me, that's good enough. She'll serve as my wife."

"But wouldn't it be better to hire someone to marry?"

"No, if we looked for someone anonymous, that would be much better. I don't want to waste time."

Paolo found out that the girl had been an orphan since a young age, spent most of her life in an orphanage, and when she left, she rented a trailer to live in. A depressing life, to say the least.

I could marry her, and she wouldn't demand anything, just obey me.

I followed her to the trailer where she lived, and I shuddered; what a horrible place.

There was no other way but to take her by force. I would convince her.

Sophia Walker was more than just a piece of my plan. She would be mine, and when I desired something, nothing could stop me.