Life of a Donna

Chapter Nine

Don Nickola paused and collected himself before continuing.

"First," Don Nickola stated, outlining a plan with the decisive authority of a seasoned leader, "is the meeting. We need to definitively prove Bernadette's lineage, to show her identity as their long-lost granddaughter, and that requires careful planning. Then," he continued, his gaze softening slightly, "we will give her the ten days she needs to confirm the pregnancy. And if she is pregnant, we will provide her with every resource and every form of support she needs. Finally, and equally important, we will continue with the marriage arrangements. We need to prove to her that, despite being part of the mafia, we are fundamentally different from the family that caused her so much pain. We are a family, deeply rooted in loyalty and support. We will show her the true meaning of family." His words were a promise, a carefully constructed strategy to secure Bernadette's well-being and solidify their family's position. The emphasis on family was clear, a counterpoint to the violence and abuse she had suffered.

Talia, usually the picture of quiet composure, erupted. Her voice choked with rage, “NO! NO!. This little b***h does not get to come into my home, my family and get everything handed to her. She would not even be alive if you had not stuck your d**k in her b***h of a mother. She should have died with her mum or with that adoptive family of hers. You never should have brought her here.” Talia screamed before storming off.

Don Alejandro's voice was a low growl. "Ramiro, I trust I don't need to spell this out. Keep your wife in line. This is a delicate situation and the last thing we need is for Bernadette to be proven a Donna and your wife and your son's mother does something reckless. We can't protect them if she acts foolishly."

Ramiro's response was clipped. "Understood. She's my wife; I'll ensure she understands."

“Great,”

"Forgive me, Don Alejandro," Timothy began, his voice hesitant. "Father, what did Mother mean when she said Bernadette should have died with her mother? I thought you said she'd disappeared—that you couldn't find her, and the theory was she'd changed her mind and taken Bernadette?"

"That was the working theory," I replied, a furrow in my brow. "But I have no idea what she meant. Perhaps it's just an assumption on her part. We can all agree that Bernadette's arrival has profoundly affected her. She's a changed woman from just last week. The only course of action is close observation, especially after her outburst. If she does something foolish, it won't just be her who suffers, but all of us. And, as Don Alejandro pointed out, if Bernadette is connected to a rival family, he won't be able to protect her—or us."

Bernadette’s POV

I cannot believe I said all that. I know I'll have to face them again, but now, I need to process this. Me? A mafia princess? A Donna? It's almost too much to understand. I'm honestly numb. All I know is I need a long, hot shower. And that's exactly what I did.

An hour-long, scalding shower later, and I felt a sliver of readiness to face everyone. Before I could even head downstairs, a knock came at my door. I yelled for them to enter, completely unprepared for the person who walked through: Talia.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, trying to remain polite, but I could tell that I had failed.

"I thought we could clear the air," Talia said, her voice softer than I expected. "I also brought you some hot chocolate. I know it always helps me relax." She placed the mug beside me. "I know we haven't had a chance to talk, and that's my fault. This is a lot to process, even for me. But after what you revealed... I felt I needed to say this: I will never accept you."

"Everyone else may want you here, but this is my home, too," Talia continued, her voice low and steady. "And, while it's unconventional, we've made this arrangement work for forty years. I'm not about to give that up because of some mistake that should have died with her mother. I suggest you attend this meeting, and then announce you're moving out. Make it convincing."

When the door slammed shut behind her, I discarded the untouched hot chocolate and went in search of everyone. Finding the others in the lounge room, engaged in quiet chatter, I paused before revealing myself. The scene was so serene, and at that moment, I decided I wouldn't let anyone dictate my life. These people were going to be my family.

"I'm sorry for leaving the way I did," I said. "I'm fifteen, almost sixteen, and finding out I could be a Donna—in a life I'm still adjusting to—was overwhelming. The thought of being the deciding factor in an alliance or a war is incredibly daunting. I had also just revealed something I never thought that I would share, and I didn't want to see pity in your eyes. Yes, my life has been unfortunate. But when I look at what I've achieved at fifteen, I wouldn't change it. Would it have been nice to avoid abuse? Of course. But look at me now. That's what I want to focus on."

Pausing, I walked into the room. "Right now, I want to focus on planning for this 'Donna' situation, assuming it's true," I said. "I don't want to discuss a possible pregnancy. We can address that later, if a test is necessary. So, let's start planning. Where do we begin, Don Alejandro?"

"First, there's the meeting with our rivals," Don Alejandro said. "I know our usual approach, but I think it's only fair you have the first say."

"Well, Don Alejandro," I replied, "you have the experience. I'll offer my input later."

“Thank you. I will call the Don and set up the meeting. However, we need to discuss what this means for you and different outcomes. The first outcome is that you are not his granddaughter, and it is a trap. The second outcome is that you are his granddaughter. Will you stay with us, move in with him, accept what he says, do you want to conduct a blood test for further proof? Do you want to even know him?”

“Wow, ok. First outcome. I will follow your lead. You obviously know what you are doing, and I will trust your best judgment if it comes to that. Second, I have thought about it and if me being his granddaughter would bring peace instead of war, I want a blood test. After that, I want to stay with my dad and brothers. While he may be my grandfather, I am still adjusting to a dad and brothers. I will get to know him, but I do not want to leave here.”

I paused to see everyone giving some form of agreement.

“I want the meeting in a public, open area, like a walking park or dog park. Nowhere near children and not crowded like a restaurant. Nowhere inside either. We can both have six people each and another four for security. It is only fair, as I want my dad, Don Alejandro, Don Nickola with me, and you will probably want your under-bosses or at least one of them. Security is just a duh thing, since he is still currently a rival, and we do not know what to expect from him. Hidden security will also be around to provide backup, but I think they could be about a block away. Oh, and either early morning or late at night. Is there anything I am forgetting?”

“I think you covered most. If you are happy for me to do the detailing to make this work, then you have covered what I needed to know. Well, done, you will be a fine Donna indeed.”

“Thank you, Don Alejandro. Let’s make the call now and that way we can start. Sorry, you can complete the plan details. Is it alright if, after the initial conversation, I talk to him? I want to be able to gauge him.”

“Fine, but I will take over if I believe that I need to.” Don Alejandro negotiated with me.

“Agreed.”

Pulling out his phone, he rang the number he had. Placing the phone on speaker, and then Don Alejandro placed it down on the table. The anticipation was killing me. I hate waiting and I hate situations like that. After what took about a minute to answer, there was another voice.

“Mr. Alberto’s”

“Don Alejandro Venetia has agreed to a meeting.”

“One minute please.” Then silence.

“Well, if it is not Don Alejandro Venetia, to what do I owe this pleasure? I believe when I tried to extend an olive branch, you called me a liar and hung up. Why should I not do the same?” Don Alberto questioned roughly, he was obviously trying to hide his anger.

“If you were to do that, then how would we be able to talk?” I took over.

Drop dead silence. It was so silent I had no doubt a pin would be heard if dropped. It took a few minutes before we could hear a cough.

“Bernadette?”

“The one and only Don Santin Alberto. I believe that you were the one who asked to talk to me. Is it really so surprising that I want to talk to someone who claims to be my grandfather?’

“No, that is not surprising, the surprise is hearing from you. I did not think I would hear from you directly. I thought that I would have a tug of war to even be able to talk to you.”

“Well. Lucky for you, I was intrigued enough to want to speak with you. I have been discussing this with Don Alejandro, and we believe a meeting would be beneficial. I am going to give you over to Don Alejandro to discuss the details as he knows what I am willing to accept, and Don Alejandro is accepting on my behalf. It was a pleasure talking to you. Hopefully, next time it will be face to face.” Nodding to Don Alejandro, he took the phone off speaker and went off to finish the call. I did not need to hear that conversation. I will find out what will happen later anyway.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart? You handled that really well," my father said.

"I'm fine, Dad. I was nervous, but it needed to be done. I needed to speak so he knew we were taking this seriously and that I did want to meet with him."

"I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad."

"So am I," Don Nickola said, coming over. "I'm proud. You handled that, just like your dad said, 'really well.' You kept your head and were direct. It couldn't have gone better."

Blushing, I replied, "Thank you, Don Nickola. I appreciate your support."

"Always," he said.

It was a cough from one of the new faces that broke the spell. "Let's go have some lunch," he said. "Then we can resume this conversation after we've filled ourselves up." Don Nickola's quiet approval of my performance, coupled with his immediate shift to practicalities, was comforting. He was clearly used to working with him, and their interaction felt...easy, for lack of a better word. There was a familiarity there that hinted at a long-standing relationship, one built on mutual respect and, perhaps, a touch of playful banter.

"Only you would be thinking about food right now, Jacob," Nickola said, smiling. "You never stop eating." Jacob's easy confidence, his blatant disregard for the gravity of the situation, was in stark contrast to Nickola's controlled demeanor. It was a fascinating dynamic. Their differences seemed to complement each other rather than clash.

"I'm hungry," Jacob replied. "What do you expect? I eat when I'm hungry. It takes a lot of energy to maintain this beautiful specimen of a body. Don't be jealous, you can't look like me."

Laughing broke out. “Trust us, no one is jealous of your body”, Oliver tried to talk while laughing.

The laughing continued during lunch. Don Alejandro joined us soon after we started to eat. It really was amazing to be part of this family. I was suddenly very excited. My future was suddenly stable and that was very exciting no matter what happened. I had this family. My family.

Five Days Later

Five days passed. I started and finished my night wall. I looked into attending therapy. Having someone else’s analysis and connection could be better than dealing with it myself. I will not be starting until next week though, but that is better for me. I may need to deal with more than just my abuse.

I've been keeping my distance from Talia, refusing anything unless I've seen it prepared myself. My caution is growing with each passing day. I can sense she's waiting for something, but I have no idea what. The feeling is visceral, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. It's not just general wariness; it's a deep-seated fear, a primal instinct screaming at me to protect myself. I’m terrified of history repeating itself, of finding myself trapped in another cycle of abuse. The kindness I've seen from the rest of the family doesn't erase the instinctual fear that Talia might be harboring a similar darkness.

Tonight, we are meeting with Don Santin Alberto. I am nervous, but hopefully something good can come out of the meeting. We are meeting at a private laboratory so we get to do the blood test before any deep conversation can be had. We were currently on our way to meet him. I did not want to know the security side of things. All I know is that I have my dad and Edward with me in one car and Don Alejandro, Don Nickola and Diago following in another car.

We were to arrive first, Don Santin Alberto, thirty minutes later. After that, we'd cross the street to the park for the meeting and the results. Pulling up to the lab, Dad, Edward, and I were the only ones to go in. It was a quick process, but having them with me eased my nerves considerably.

As we left the lab, I saw a convoy of cars pulling up. I knew instantly it was Don Santin, and the reality of the situation slammed into me. This could be the beginning of something wonderful, or the prelude to war.

Half an hour later, Don Santin Alberto approached. He held what I hoped was the result, a single sheet of paper clutched in his hand. My heart hammered against my ribs; a cold dread, sharp and insistent, pierced the nervous anticipation. The possibilities spiraled through my mind, each scenario more terrifying than the last.

"Don Alejandro, Don Nickola," Don Santin Alberto announced, handing the paper to Don Alejandro. "The results." His voice was calm, but I saw the barely held tension in his shoulders, mirroring my own frantic unease. I could not tell if he was happy with the result or disappointed. Just because he claimed me as his granddaughter does not mean that it is something that he wants.

Don Alejandro began reading the report out loud, “Assuming the collected samples are from the persons indicated, the alleged paternal grandparent, Santin Alberto, could not be excluded as the biological grandparent of Bernadette Olson, since they share genetic markers. Using the genetic markers found in the testing of the alleged biological grandparent, the probability they are the biological grandparent is 98.3% as compared to untested, unrelated persons.”

“Does that mean,” I began, unsure of what the lab jargon was trying to say. Normally, something this simple would be easy for me to unjumble, but I was too wound up.

“Yes, Bernadette, it means that Don Santin is your grandfather,” Don Alejandro concluded to me.