Silhouette

Part 6

The blinding sunset, as beautiful as this, is picture perfect. The colors, the scenery, the atmosphere—it's truly peaceful. The sun descends in its gorgeous wake, splashing reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges everywhere. This sunset is proof that everything can end peacefully and yet be utterly beautiful. It's so tranquil that all the birds are finding their shelter for the night, and the world grows very silent as the sun sinks lower.

Peace. It's anything but inside my mind. The turmoil swirling within me threatens to unleash havoc on this beautiful setting, potentially destroying the very serenity I admire. It is truly an amazing sight to watch the sunset, but this stunning scene stops me from moving forward. I was on my way home from a rather civilized meeting with Rossi when I saw the sunset. I thought it would calm my mind, but once again, I was wrong. Nothing is going to stop the chaos or the descent of my future.

I chuckled at the irony. The sunset and my future are both going down in hill. I heave a heavy sigh; in the next two weeks, I don't know what my future will hold. But for now, sitting on the hood of my car watching this sunset, I just wish that the peace the sunset brings will also calm me.

I recall today's events. After Rossi told me, or rather commanded me, about the wedlock between me and Mr. Moretti, he left to attend to his work. Then it was just me and Bianca, who thought it best to acknowledge what my next duties would entail as the wife of a mobster.

I sigh again, conjuring up why my life is like this. It's all my father's fault, I thought angrily. Rossi is a well-known mafia boss in Italy. He is dangerous and has most of the system in his hands, but as he gets older and lacks a successor, he is growing weak. His downfall began when my father decided to leave him. Now, he believes that the marriage between me and Moretti will solve all his problems and restore his powerful clan in Italy.

Once, it was true that all the power in Italy lay with Rossi's mafia. Trafficking, weapons, drugs—every sort of illegal activity was easy for him. No one was strong enough to cross him. All the political power and police force were under his control. But now he has lost everything. As the years have gone on, he has started losing his edge, and power and money have begun to slip through his fingers.

This is all because of my father. My father, Sylas Rossi, was as hard-trained and cruel as my grandfather. He was groomed to rule this mafia. According to my grandfather, my father was someone people used to fear; he was even better than Rossi, as Rossi himself admitted. Rossi still despises my father for leaving him to manage the mafia alone. I can see the longing in his eyes, subtle yet mingled with hatred. But my father couldn't help it; it was a hurricane that swept him away from this mafia life.

My mother, Jane Shallow, was that hurricane, my father says—a hurricane filled with love that gave him a new life and a new personality. She was a waitress at a café. How they met remains a mystery neither of them wants to share with their children. But my mother's love changed my father. He was no longer the dangerous son of a mafia boss. She taught him a new way of life and begged him to leave the mafia behind. Of course, my grandfather was not thrilled with this decision, so for my mother's safety, my parents hid from him. They left Italy and started living quietly. My father was much more intelligent than Rossi, so he was able to escape his clutches easily. He changed his name and adopted my mother's surname for discretion. Life went smoothly for a couple of years, during which my father forgot that my grandfather was still searching for him.

My father thought he would have forgotten about him, that his anger would have cooled. But he was wrong. By then, they already had me and my sister. My sister, Violet, was just eight years old, and I was four when my grandfather and his men ambushed our house. My father is a well-educated man; he had enough schooling to live without violence or illegal activities. We could afford two guards, but even they didn't survive against Rossi's men.