𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 | 18+

RRSB | 04

-IVΛПΛ-

𝔚e began our descent into darkness long before the snowfall, and like the snow, we continued to fall. The fear of death arises from the fear of life itself. Ivana was acutely aware that death showed no mercy, snatching away those who were too young and too good, without pretending to care or distinguish.

The ominous veil of death had hung over the earth for an extended period, a constant threat that loomed ever closer. Yet, it had never come so close to touching Ivana's life. Death had torn away a cherished part of her being, leaving a void that seemed irreparable.

Ivana found herself caught in contemplation, reflecting on the choices she had made and the past events that shaped her existence. It felt as though her mother's funeral had occurred just yesterday, even though months had passed since that solemn day.

🌹🌹🌹

The air was heavy with grief as the white carnations, symbols of purity and remembrance, were meticulously arranged in a perfect circle around the pure white wooden coffin that cradled her mother's lifeless form. Ivana's eyes were fixed upon her mother's pale face, drained of all existence. The lips that once curved into warm smiles were now still, and her long, thick lashes, resembling Ivana's own, delicately brushed against her cold cheeks. Before bidding her final farewell, Ivana leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her index and middle finger, pressing them against her mother's forehead.

Returning to her place beside her father, Ivana watched as he stepped forward to whisper his final goodbye to his beloved wife. Like her father, she had not shed a single tear for her mother, for she had been taught to suppress her emotions, to portray strength in the face of adversity. It was an integral part of her upbringing within the Bianchi family, where resilience and unwavering determination were highly valued.

But Ivana's life was far from typical or ordinary. Being the daughter of the Bianchi family, known not only for its wealth but also for its deep-rooted ties to the Italian underworld as the Italian Don's offspring, came with both privileges and burdens. The constant presence of threats and rivalries coiled around her entire family, intertwining their lives with the impending specter of death. It was an existence where danger lurked in every shadow, where loyalty and treachery walked hand in hand.

She had never been denied much, except for one thing—choice. Contemplating her future as the next Italian Doña, Ivana found herself wrestling with the weight of responsibility and the desire for autonomy. She wondered what path her life would take, caught between the legacy she was born into and the yearning for self-determination. She hadn't been granted many options, but this particular choice demanded her attention, for it would shape not only her destiny but the destiny of her family and the Italian mafia.

"You are marrying him, and it is final!" Her father's stern voice reverberated through the room, leaving little room for negotiation or dissent. Ivana sighed, acknowledging the harsh reality that lay before her. The patriarchal syndicate that governed the Italian mafia would not tolerate a female leader, no matter her capability or resolve. Therefore, she had to fulfil her duty and marry her cousin from the Rivera family, the powerful second-in-command within the Italian mafia hierarchy.

"But—" she started to protest, her voice trailing off as she met her father's unwavering gaze.

"Ivana Emilia Morella Bianchi!" Her father's authoritative tone sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of the expectations placed upon her shoulders. Sighing, she sank back into the plush leather couch, her eyes fixed on her father's face. She knew that he would brook no disagreement or defiance. The weight of tradition and the intricacies of their clandestine world pressed down upon her, leaving little room for personal desires or aspirations.