a rash decision

FRANCESCA

A woman walks into the changing room, her hands busy with a dress. She’s tall, strong, and stunning with her curly brown hair, dark skin, and golden hazel eyes.

I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at her carefree demeanor, but I’m also happy for her. Everyone deserves the freedom to choose.

She sits next to me on the couch, wrestling with the exotic red dress. I assume she’s looking for the price tag.

She sighs and turns to me. “Can you find the tag? I just can’t seem to find it,” she says.

I nod, taking the dress from her. Alessia is still in one of the stalls, leaving us alone. I find the tag quickly. “Here,” I say, handing the dress back to her.

“Can you tell me the price, please?” She smiles at me. “I can’t read.”

I smile back and look at the small piece of paper in my hand. “It’s—” My eyes snap up as if I’ve been doused with cold water.

She nods, encouraging me to continue.

~I know who you are~, the note reads. ~Don’t worry. I can help you. I’m the FBI. Contact the number below.~

I toss the dress back into her lap, looking away. But she places a hand on mine and gives me the dress back.

“Actually, I think you should have this. I think it’ll look good on you. Please try it,” she says, standing up and leaving the changing room.

My heart feels like it’s about to explode. I jump when I see a pair of shoes in front of me. It’s just Alessia, but I can’t relax.

“How do I look?” she asks, grinning widely. “This actually looks good. I like it.”

I nod, not really seeing her. “Great, we’ll buy it.” I can’t meet her eyes.

“What’s that?” She points at the red dress. “No offense, but isn’t that too sexy for your taste?”

I snap back to reality. “Sorry. Yeah, you’re right. I just like the fabric,” I mumble, distracted. “Go change back into your old clothes. We still need to get you admitted to school.”

She gives me a strange look before shrugging and heading back to the changing room. I toss the dress aside and stand up.

Alessia is humming, and I’m grateful there’s no one else in the room. I feel like I’m suffocating. How did she know who I was? How did the bodyguards miss her?

Suddenly, I feel like I’m in danger, as if being in the same room as the police without permission is a crime.

Alessia comes out of the stall, but it feels like hours have passed. I feel like I’m betraying someone. I haven’t done anything wrong, but the Family won’t see it that way.

I’ll be punished for being careless and drawing the attention of the police. If I don’t tell them, they’ll think I’m considering the offer.

Am I considering the offer?

~No, of course not.~

~But this could be your only chance at freedom. Take the note. Maybe you could help your sister get a better life.~

I shake my head, not caring if anyone is watching. If I take this note, I’m digging my own grave.

I pick up the dress and stand up. My mind is a whirlwind. Why am I even considering this? Where do my loyalties lie?

I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I’ve been told since childhood that breaking ~omertà~ is a death sentence. Even thinking about it is. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.

It doesn’t matter if I’m Antonio’s wife. It doesn’t matter if I’m a woman. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t done anything wrong. All they’ll see is that I considered it.

Some police are at our beck and call, while others are our mortal enemies. ~Omertà~ doesn’t just stand for the Giordano Family. It stands for all the ~Nostra Vita~ Families.

It doesn’t matter if the enemy kills your friends or family. It doesn’t matter why or how they do it. The authorities can never be involved. If there’s a problem, a made man must go to the Don.

If someone is caught committing a crime started by the enemy, they still have to take the blame because giving away another man in the Mafia breaks the code.

Every Family has issues. The Lambardi, the Bianchi, and the Giordano Families are all enemies, but we can’t involve the police, no matter what. It’s a betrayal.

I find it disgusting and strange. It’s rare to find a cop not on a Family’s payroll. If any other Family found out about this, they’d have me killed.

They’d have the perfect excuse. I’m a traitor.

But I still rip the tag off and stuff it into my jeans pocket. I look around, making sure no one is watching. My breathing is ragged as I wait for Alessia to come out again.

She finally does, holding the clothes in her hands. I barely hear her as she talks about which ones she wants and which ones she doesn’t. I just nod along.

All I can think about is the small piece of paper in my pocket. It’s as light as a feather but feels like it weighs a ton. I feel like an idiot. I feel guilty.

I’m not lying to the Don, but I’m hiding important things from him. One is my sister’s plan, and the other is this note.

I can’t help but feel that this could be God trying to change my fate, which I’ve begged him to do. But I know the risks I’m taking for myself and my family.

I feel like I’m betraying my husband. I feel like a cheater. I’m scared. I’ve always been told that cheating on the Mafia never ends well. They’ll hunt me down.

“Are you okay?” Alessia asks as we head to the counter.

I can’t even muster a smile for her, but I give it a shot. It probably looks more like a grimace. “Sure, of course. Can we wrap this up early? I really need to get back home.”

I need to mull this over, but right now all I can do is raise more questions. I pay for the clothes and take her hand.

Fabio is right there, taking the bags from us. I notice he’s got a new briefcase with him too.

“Did Omero drop off the necessary files?” I ask as we leave the store.

Fabio hands off the shopping bags to my other bodyguards, but he hangs onto the black briefcase. That’s when I realize how much money we’ve spent. “Yes, ma’am. Master Omero just left.”

I nod, relieved that I don’t have to face him. “Now, let’s head to the school.”

Fabio immediately starts barking orders in Italian to the men. They form a protective rectangle around Alessia and me again.

“Do we really need them guarding us like this?” Alessia suddenly asks. “It’s annoying.”

I’m taken aback by her words. I tighten my grip on the younger girl’s hand. “Yes, we do. We have a lot of enemies.”

Alessia rolls her eyes. “What enemies? How can enemies even think of coming after us when we have these brutes patrolling the whole mall, broadcasting who we are?

“Great way to stay under the radar,” she adds, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I roll my eyes, a move that would earn me a punishment if my husband found out. It’s not exactly ladylike for a mafiosa. “Alessia, please. Just be quiet.”

I’m not in the mood for this. All I want is to get home and figure out my next move.

I hate keeping things from the Don and I hate feeling like a traitor. Staying silent could cause more issues down the line, but speaking up now would cause immediate problems.

Either way, I’m in hot water. I don’t know how deep. My husband is unpredictable and I don’t want to guess how angry he might get. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

But do I really have a choice? After all, I took the note. I made my decision.