Boss of All Bosses

Aliyana

I had never seen eyes that black before on anyone besides a woman I met once many years ago. 

She, however, was smiling at me. Not giving me a look that held a thousand words I didn't want to hear.

I stare at my sister, knowing what lies ahead. My sister should get to choose the man she’ll have to wake up next to for the rest of her life. The man who will eventually be the father of her children should be someone she loves, not the one with a big title or number of kills under their names.

Every family has their fortunate ones and the unfortunate. For mine, it was my parent’s marriage been that of the fortunate.

My mother was a woman of high status, a 26th generation member of the Bratva, Zasha Vasiliev. A Russian royal in the underworld. She was also the love of my father’s life. So, he says.

My father, born and raised to be an influential member of the Famiglia, the future heir to the Consigliere of the Capo Dei Capi. The boss of all bosses

The Capo Dei Capi controls the entire 5th State, or as commoners know it, the Underworld. The most powerful man in the world, and he is undoubtedly a man.

All the Capos, regardless of whether you’re Italian or Irish, answer to him.

Whoever he is, nobody knows besides a select few. My father is one of those few.

When the Russians landed in New York, they agreed to a peace offering. A marriage between my mother and Papa was negotiated, and after a short meeting, it was decided, they would marry within a month.

My parents were young and fortunate. Papa had two kids and was already a widower before 30. My mother was a young woman with a reputation that made a lot of enemies in her 24 years. 

Yet, they fell in love with each other after a few short weeks following their shared nuptials.

Everything was right then, simple.

In fact, Papa said it was terrific. How true the story is, I am not sure, but the few pictures I’d seen said he spoke the truth. Then again, secrets hid well behind a choreographed smile. 

There was one picture Papa kept of my mother in his office, on the desk. She was not smiling, she was staring out the window by the breakfast nook downstairs, lost in her mind. The rain droplets evident on the window as the dull light from the winter season showed her make-up free face in another light. 

Her eyes sunken, her cheeks dusted with light specks of freckles as her curly long ash-blonde hair lay wild as though she’d just woken up and didn’t bother to brush it out. 

She was just plain in that picture, a lot like me. I wonder if the picture was taken before they lost my sister. Was I born then? 

Papa told me my mother had a way about her that just drew you in.

He told me, no one could refuse her when she wanted something, she’d get loud and harp on the same thing every day until someone relented. When I was much younger I tried to picture her, but I couldn’t. Eventually, I stopped trying altogether.

My parents remained fortunate for years but like everything in our world, it was tainted by one clause. The Bratva and the Famiglia were happy until the time came to fulfill that clause.

The Bratva agreed to peace with my parent’s marriage on one condition - the first child, which the Famiglia hoped would be a boy, would be given to my mother's family at age 5 to raise as Bratva so they could continue the Vasiliev bloodline. 

See, the thing about my mother’s family and the Bratva, was their women, unlike the Famiglia, were very important. Without a Vasiliev heir born from the womb of a Vasiliev female, my mother’s family would have a hole in their armor.

It was their law that the eldest child, male or female, be raised to take over. A female would not only produce and heir but rule the Vasiliev family one day.

The laws are sacred in the 5th State. We are bound by those traditions. Some of them fall on all of us. 

One of those traditions shared amongst the leaders of the 5th State was common. Sending your sons into allies territory to finish out their schooling years. It proved the strength of the alliance. It meant that your allies were in charge of the safety of your future. If they f****d up, it would be war. So, they took it very f*****g seriously.

The Russo’s took seriously to a whole new level. 

Then again, we broke tradition when they sent me to Chicago and Elisa here. The first girls to make the exchange.

But even with us, the tradition proved successful, and for so long has been honored.

Our scars would not be of the visible kind unless you knew the horrors that hid in the depth of our eyes. Only then you would see and understand the meaning of the term 'deep-rooted wounds.' They are still that, wounds, not fully healed, but bearable.

All for what? The symbol of unbreakable connections.

The thought of it all makes me want to shake my head and laugh at how absurd it all seems in the brighter mornings now that we are home.

My mother, for all her fortune, ran out of luck when she bore a girl and when the time came, my parents couldn't do it. They agreed to allow her to attend school with the Bratva's kids, but the Bratva retaliated by killing my Papa’s sister. Still, Papa refused and declared war.

I sometimes question myself, if my sister crossed his mind when he did to me the same thing he wanted to do to her.

Only difference is, in my case, sending me away was for my own safety, and in hers - to prevent a war.

After my aunts death and Papa’s declaration of war, the Famiglia stood together as is the way of our world and protected her as they knew how.

A lot of people died, and more enemies were forged in the time as a lot of allies chose to not stand with my parents. Things were terrible during that time. Dark times in the 5th State.

Until the Capo of the Famiglia declared an end to his reign, and the new Capo rose.

The decision was not made by the Capo Dei Capi as my sister's life wasn't that important that they take it to the true-head of the 5th State. And my father wasn't the Consigliere then, so his war was only extended as far as the Mafia men he called his people.

Our new Capo, Marcello Catelli seemed to have frozen his heart and gave my sister away. 'A deal is a deal,' he said.

She, a sister I never had a chance to meet, who remained nameless was the unfortunate of my family.

Her departure damaged my mother and father in ways that made them crazy. 

Filippo once let spill that my parents started their own war and looked for her until my mother was gunned down. He never told me the entire story, but he did say my mother was the message that Papa received and his push he needed to take his rightful place.

I, however, am the only fortunate sibling.

I was too young to remember any of this. I’ve never met my sister. I was the last of my mother's children to be born. The story of their horror, just a scary bedtime story growing up, told to me by my siblings and my stepmother.

My mother died when I wasn’t even three, murdered, so I don't remember the bloodshed that came after my sister was traded like cattle. 

My father remarried after a year, as is custom in our world. And finally managed to produce another male, Elia. His marriage was arranged, and Ilaria though beautiful and eager to please, never lived up to my mother in Papa’s eyes.

Of that, I know.

Ilaria hates me for it. From that moment, she stepped foot in our home, she saw me as the girl who wore the very face of the woman responsible for her husband’s lack of affection.  

That hate grew as the years piled up. Because, unlike my siblings, my birth granted me the freedom of choice to whom I would marry, as long as he is in the Famiglia.

Something Ilaria never had and Serena will never have.

I always wished to be with Leonardo. Staring at my ceiling, I have to admit that when I saw him today, my attention was not the one he sought.

And it isn’t the first time when that ache in my heart becomes a bit too unbarring that I think of Ilaria and her unrequited love for Papa. I understand her pain.

I know how painful it could feel if the one whom he wanted was someone I had to look at knowing that I would never compare.

I understand it too well, I have been doing it for years.