My Family Abandoned Me, I Took Control

Chapter 2

The chandelier lit every face in the hall with harsh clarity.

I sat in the corner, wearing the light gray dress my mother had picked, the collar buttoned high.

I purposely mixed up the cutlery, tapping the knife against the plate edge twice.

Mother glanced at me, a look of worry in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Ivy. Take your time,” she whispered.

I smiled and bowed my head, keeping up the act.

At the center of the hall, Viola wore a flowing white gown, arm-in-arm with Luca.

The dress was custom-made, cinched tight at the waist, each step perfectly timed.

Luca stood beside her, black suit impeccable, cufflinks bearing his family crest.

His gaze on Viola was one of satisfaction.

“Tonight is the Recognition Banquet of the West Harbor Alliance,” Father announced from the head table, voice heavy. “Welcome home, Ivy.”

Sparse applause followed, most eyes sizing me up.

Viola walked to the cake, a three-tiered masterpiece with candles on top.

“Ivy, this is for you,” she smiled warmly. “Shall I cut it for you?”

I nodded. “Thank you, sister.”

She took the knife, slicing deliberately slow, as if performing.

Everyone watched, glasses raised or whispered conversations paused.

Old godfather Vito sat by the wall, cigar in hand, eyes half-closed.

A few capos in crisp suits stood around him, bulges under their jackets hinting at hidden weapons.

Luca took the piece Viola cut and placed it in front of me.

“Try it,” he said, smiling.

I took a small bite. Rich cream. Sweet, cloying.

“How is it?” Viola asked.

“Delicious,” I replied.

She nodded, satisfied, and returned to Luca.

Music started. Some began to dance.

Marco tapped his fingers on the table beside me.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said.

Mother sat on my other side, holding my hand.

“If it’s too much, we can leave early,” she said.

“I’m fine, Mom,” I replied.

Her hand was warm; I felt the sweat in her palm.

Father spoke quietly with some godfathers, looking exhausted.

Viola and Luca laughed in the crowd, deliberately loud.

Luca’s arm around her waist, both projecting intimacy.

Someone came to toast; Viola clinked glasses, her diamond ring sparkling in the light.

I glanced under the table: the black call button still in place.

Fingers brushed the plate, cream smudging my napkin.

Viola turned, smiled at me.

“Enjoying the banquet, Ivy?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She crouched beside me, voice low.

“You know, everyone here grew up watching me,” she said. “They only know me.”

I said nothing.

She stood, patting my shoulder.

“But that’s okay. You’ll get used to it.”

Luca stood behind her, eyes cold.

I lowered my head, putting the fork back.

The call button under the table had a smear of cream.