Secrets Of the unwanted heiress

V I V I A N A

You know, most people feel at peace when they're at home. 

It's a place they consider their refuge, a place that shields and protects them from the horrors of the outside world. Unfortunately, that's not the case for me. Not when the very thing you're hiding from lives under the same roof as you.

I guess it comes with the territory. Both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Being the daughter of a notorious Mafia leader. My father is Don Ettore Costanzo, Don of the Costanzo crime syndicate, one of many significant and old families born and bred in the heart of New York City. Everyone seems to have gotten it figured out. My father, is a successful businessman with companies all across the city and beyond. His wife, my step-mother, is the perfect woman, in his eyes at least. I'm the only one who seems to have my bullshit detector on red alert when I'm around her. My real mom died when I was very young, so young that I barely even remember what she was like. And before I could even cherish whatever memories I had of her, she was quickly replaced by the one and only Lucia. She made sure I knew that I was no longer the most important person in my father's life. She was. And boy, did she love reminding me of it. 

It's like the house simply breaths without me, and it's always been that way. The walls, polished to a mirror's shine, echo with unfamiliarity despite me having lived here for 24 years. The mansion buzzes with servants, soldiers, my father's men. All of them serve a purpose, and that is to make sure that Costanzo Headquarters is running smoothly. People move past me, most of them with their heads lowered. I'm supposed to be the daughter of the Don, but it's clear these people don't respect me. 

This estate is my prison. My curse. But it's also meant to be my inheritance, and that's the only thing that keeps me going. I'm supposed to be the one to take over from my father someday, whether he likes it or not. The laws of the Underground are very clear. I am his firstborn, therefore his rightful heir. So this legacy, will be passed on to me. And it's something I've been preparing my whole life for.

My father wanted me to be strong. So I was. He wanted me to be a killer, and unfortunately, I became one. A weapon fashioned perfectly for the rule of the Costanzo family.

I walk forward quietly, exhaling deeply as I prepare for the start of the day, having come from my training and a fresh shower. I stride through the hallways, my pitch black hair falling in large, bouncy curls on my back. My eyes are blue, not like my father's brown ones. No. I looked just like my mother. I'm average height, standing at about 5'6, and I'd consider myself pretty fit considering I kept healthy, worked out and trained every single day. I've had many suitors, many that have shown interest, but my father could never allow them to get close to me. He would either threaten to kill them, or they would simply be too scared to come close to me because of my family's status. And he claims it's because none of them were ever worthy of me, and if I were to find someone to be with, it should be someone within our community, one who would help build a powerful legacy.

I'm finally downstairs, and breakfast is already half over when I slip into the dining room. The long table stretches like a battlefield, and my father sits at the head. My stepmother Lucia is at his right hand, as well as Victor. My half-brother. He sits confidently in his seat, and as soon as he sees me, irritation appears on his face. The same resulting with mine. He is three years younger than me, but he looks at me the way a king looks at a beggar. It's obvious the two of us never got along. He is the favourite son, and I was a reminder of a life my father is trying so hard to forget.

I can already feel their eyes glaring at me as I approach the dining table. I meet their gaze finally, and all I feel is venom, especially that of Lucia.

"Good morning." I issue a greeting, one I'm not eager to give, just as I sit at the far end of the dining table, at the opposite head of the table, my usual seat.

"Viviana." My father lets out sternly, not even bothering to greet me back.

"You're late." Lucia's voice cuts through the air as soon as I sit down. I narrow my eyes at her, locking us in a deadly, unspoken exchange. It isn't true. The clock says I'm early, but in this house, truth bends to her will.

"By point 10 seconds? Sure, mother." I answer her distastefully just as I begin to serve myself food, reaching for the bacon, eggs, sausage, mushrooms and toasted-butter toast in front of me.