The Mafia's Mom

Chapter 1. 17 yeas ago.

-Grace-

For eight years I was able to keep my secret. For a long time, it was only Roberto and Bianca Ferrante who knew my secret and they helped me keep the secret.

Slowly, I trusted more people with my secret. Valentina and later Vincenzo. Both promised to keep my secret. Then came little Vivian, she immediately stole my heart. I remember, when I was her age, how complicated life was.

My life was different from her life, very different, but I saw her insecurity and took her under my wing.

So I trusted her too. Riccardo never talked to me about it, but I know he knows my secret. Maybe not everything, but Roberto has told him enough. And all the while it was a secret, for only one person. Someone I don't dare to trust my secret with. Not because I'm afraid he'll be mad, but because I'm afraid of his reaction. That he will run away from me. That he can’t handle it and will leave.

And now eight years later, I look in my kitchen, and my big secret is out.

I look at his furious face.

The man who can hardly be angered, the man who has been patient for eight years.

This was not the way he deserves to find out. Absolutely not.

But now I can't go back. It’s out and now I have to deal with the consequences.

Again I look into his eyes, pain, and sorrow.

Probably because of what I have withheld.

I look at my oldest son, who gets up and comes to hug me. A warm embrace. He's bigger than I am, especially when I'm walking barefoot and he's just turned sixteen. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder, which gently squeezes. It's the hand of the man who helped me eight years ago. Without him, I wouldn't be here anymore.

Roberto Ferrante. Christiano's father.

"I have to go."

His voice is loud and cold. His voice is never loud and cold, not with me.

“Chris-“

I start, but the look in his eyes tells me enough.

"It's okay son, your mother and I will stay here for a while."

Roberto squeezes my shoulder again. An attempt to reassure me.

Something that doesn't work. Not now, not when I see Chris's face.

I want to grab Chris, I want to stop him, but I know I have to let him go now. I close my eyes when I hear the loud bang of the door that falls shut.

"Sorry Mom, I didn't know what to do, so I called Roberto."

James is still holding me. I look up at him and take his head in my hands.

"It's okay sweetheart, you did a good job."

"Come, guys, I've made food, let's go to the table, otherwise it's going to be cold."

Bianca, Christiano's mother, smiles kindly as she stands at the table.

She puts her hands on the shoulders of my eight-year-old daughter. Surprisingly enough she has already started eating the soup.

"Come, mom!" My other fifteen-year-old son takes my hand and pulls me to the table. Both my boys kiss my cheeks and Roberto and Bianca also sit down. We all take each other's hands and Roberto prays for our food. The boys thank Bianca.

After dinner, I clean up the kitchen with Bianca and I thank her for her good care.

"Always sweetheart, always!" She hugs me. I know. I can always fall back on Bianca. She is the mother I need so much sometimes.

"When he's ready, I'll tell him everything."

Roberto and Bianca nod.

I hope I'm ready too.

.

.

-17 years ago-

It has always been me and my mother. Me, my mother, and one of the countless men in her life. Mostly bad men. Men who had a bad influence on her. Men who never had the best interests of her or me at heart.

Countless times I have had to hide.

Sometimes my mother didn't come home for three days and I had to figure it out myself.

Until Peter came into our lives.

Peter Tucker. For him, we moved from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. Where he lived and had his businesses.

I don't know exactly what Peter did, at least something dangerous. Something where he needed weapons.

And my mother worked for him, especially in the evenings and nights.

What she was doing, I didn't know at the time.

Now I know better and I can place everything. My mother danced in an s*x club and was not only a dancer there. I've never been there, she's always forbidden me to go along and if I behaved well, I didn't have to do that later.

What was I supposed to do?

Behaving well, going to school, doing my homework, and making sure Peter never had to get angry. Peter beat my mother. Never in front of me, but I heard it when I was lying on my bed and then I also heard him being angry with her for not listening to him. Or angry I didn’t listen.

So every day I tried to do even better. Making Peter proud. Don’t disappoint him.

The violence stopped when my mother became ill.

She could no longer be helped. Peter took care of her. He ignored me but took good care of my mother.

A few months before my mother's death, I saw Peter with another woman.

I had to promise him never to talk to my mother about this. He wanted the last thing my mother knew was that she would be the "only one" for him.

He hit me hard several times, on my bare ass, until I promised never to say anything. He would hit me more often and he promised me that if I would open my mouth to my mother that I would have to work for him too.

His literal words: "There are many men who pay a lot of money for such a young girl like you."

Yes, Peter was an asshole. He stayed with me the nights my mom had to stay in the hospital for some treatment. In my bed. The more I told him I didn’t want it, the more aggressive he became. So I didn’t argue. And I promised him to never tell my mom.

"Peter, will you take good care of Grace when I'm gone?" my mother asks Peter as we sit together next to her bed in the hospital.

She was hospitalized because it was no longer possible at home, but the doctor has already said that she will not be there tomorrow.

"Lilly, I promised you when we got married that I would always take care of you."

He caresses her cheek.

"And I promise you that I'll make sure Grace isn't short of anything."

My mother lets more tears run down her cheeks and I wipe them away with a handkerchief.

I don't know why Peter promised her this. He has always told me very clearly that I am not his. Unimportant. Only good for business one day. That’s what he told me.

I happened to be the daughter of the woman he married, that's all.

My mother squeezes my hand.

"Grace sweetheart, do you promise to listen carefully to Peter?"

I know what she's actually saying.

I have to make sure I don't make Peter angry. Do everything he says.

I nod. Because I can't pronounce the words.

I think Peter is terrible and the thoughts that I have to stay alone with him are much worse.

"You're a good girl Grace." She squeezes my hand again. "I know you make me proud."

I see how tired she is.

"It's okay mom, go to sleep." I kiss her cheek and do my best not to cry.

"Do you want to leave me and your mother alone for a while Grace?" Peter lands his hand on my shoulder.

I look at my mother and she nods.

I let myself slide off the bed and walk out of the room, into the bare hospital hallway. To the waiting room.

I sit down and open one of the magazines there. Trying to find a distraction.

I hear heels in the hallway, they click quickly and they get closer. When the sound stops, I look up. It's the young woman I've seen with Peter before. I shake my head and keep reading the magazine.

Asshole. Inviting his new whatever she calls herself when your wife is dying.

"Grace, sweetheart, is your father still with Lilly?"

I look up and the woman talks to me.

"Peter is not my father. And yes, he is still with my mother."

I try to sound friendly, but I can't.

"Ow sweetheart." The young woman comes to me.

"I'm sorry about your mother, but your father also has needs and your mother couldn't give it to him anymore."

"Peter is not my father," I answer. And I don't want to know the rest.

“GRACE!!”

I hear Peter's voice booming through the hallway. I throw the magazine away and run to him. He has his head down.

"I'm sorry Grace."

For the first time in five years with Peter, he grabs me in a hug. He caresses my back.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

The doctor pushes us aside, I move away from Peter and walk to the bed, where the doctor confirms what Peter already said.

I feel my legs stagger, I become light-headed.

But even before I fall to the ground, someone lifts me.

Peter.

"It's okay Grace, your mother was sick. She's in a better place now." He whispers.

I can only cry.