The Blood Union Was a Lie, and So Was My Mother’s Death

Three years ago, my sister and I were blood-bound to the two Marchetti brothers on the same day, in the same hidden ceremony no soldier of the Family was permitted to speak of.

I was given to the older one, Don of the Marchetti Family; she was given to the younger, the Underboss who stood at his right hand.

Before our mother died, she sat through three full days on a cheap long-distance bus just to make it to our wedding.

For that day, I knelt outside the gates of the Marchetti estate for two days without food or water, begging the soldiers to let me pass, until Salvatore Marchetti finally agreed to play along with the act.

But when his moment came, I screamed myself hoarse and there was no sign of him.

And his brother Lorenzo Marchetti never showed either.

Our mother panicked so badly she fainted on the spot, and my sister caught her against her chest and sobbed until she fell apart.

Shaking all over, I called Salvatore, and he hung up on me three times before he finally picked up.

He heard the fear and urgency in my voice, and his answer was nothing but irritation.

"You use your mother as an excuse every single time. I already agreed, didn't I? You think I'd run off? Carmela cut her hand open. I have to get her to the clinic first. And she got hurt because of you. Can you not pick a moment like this to throw a fit?"

Before I could get a word out, he'd already hung up and cut the line dead.

When my sister heard, she immediately called her husband, Lorenzo, begging him through her tears to come to the wedding.

All she got back was a furious tirade.

"You ever hear the story about the boy who cried wolf? How is it your mother's at death's door every time something happens to Carmela? You've put on enough of a show, and I've seen enough of it. I've got her hospital bill to settle, so quit wasting my time."

The moment that call ended, our mother breathed her last in my sister's arms.

The wedding turned into our mother's funeral.

My sister and I handled the arrangements together.

Then we sent the brothers word that we wanted to sever the blood-union.

Their answer was to bring Carmela Vitale home to our house.

……

By the time we finished with our mother's funeral, the sky had gone dark.

My sister and I came home together, and only then did we have the chance to help each other out of the cheap rented wedding gowns.

Ten hours had passed since I'd sent word that we wanted out.

Not a single word back.

This wasn't the first time they'd thrown us aside for Carmela Vitale.

What I hadn't expected was that even severing a blood-union would have to wait its turn behind their precious first love.

In our three years bound to that Family, the moment my sister and I were ever left alone with them, Carmela Vitale would conveniently suffer some accident or another.

Either a pipe sprang a leak, or the gas wouldn't light.

The kind of small, ordinary problem that, the instant it happened to Carmela Vitale, became the end of the world to the two Marchetti men.

My sister had come to me for help more times than I could count.

At first I'd asked questions, even made a scene about it, but everything that came after taught me the truth: our place had been fixed the moment we signed our names into that blood-union pact. Outsiders. Brides bought to balance a debt, never made, never family.

By the time my sister and I had packed our bags and the clothes our mother had left behind, ready to leave, they finally came home.

Carmela Vitale trailed sweetly behind them, waiting for one of them to fetch her slippers.

The three of them were laughing and joking, and it stopped dead the moment they saw my sister and me.

Irritation surged up in Salvatore's eyes, and his voice came out cold.

"Where do you think you're going? What's gotten into you now? I already explained today to you, didn't I?"

He didn't care at all as he stared at my eyes, red and bloodshot with exhaustion. His thumb turned the heavy signet ring on his right hand, slow and idle, the way it always did when he'd already decided a matter wasn't worth his patience.

His voice only grew more impatient.

"Enough. The ceremony was just an act in the first place. Carmela happened to get hurt and it fell on the same day, what was I supposed to do? We'll just stage another one for you later, and that's the end of it, isn't it?"

"Besides, if your mother hadn't come, Carmela never would've thought to make her a medicinal meal, and she wouldn't have cut her own hand open doing it. I haven't even held that against you, so what more is there to throw a fit about? Don't push it."

My sister gripped my hand tighter and tighter, a faint tremor running through her. Her free hand rose and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Beside him, Lorenzo couldn't even be bothered to explain anything.

He bent down to get Carmela Vitale's slippers and then thoughtfully slipped them onto her feet for her.

Carmela Vitale swept a glance over the suitcases in our hands and turned a wounded look up at Salvatore.

"Salvatore, why would you say that? I'm the one who held up your ceremony in the first place. It was my fault."

Then she turned and explained to me.

"Adriana, why have you even dragged your suitcase out? I cut my hand today and lost so much blood, I was honestly terrified, that's the only reason I told them. Who knew they'd make such a fuss and actually take me to the clinic? You know I don't have anyone in this Family……"

I stared at the tiny bandage on her finger and was suddenly struck by how pathetic, how ridiculous, I was.

Ridiculous, and pitiful.

"If you don't mind, from now on I could tell you whenever something happens to me. Would you be my sister? I've always felt so close to you."

As she finished, a delicate, charming smile rose on her face, her eyes brimming with smugness she couldn't hide.

In that instant, the sight of my mother breathing her last rose up before my eyes.

I dug my nails hard into my palm, forcing myself clear with the pain. The thin gold band still sat on my finger. My hand closed around it.

"I have a real sister. Do me a favor and don't call me that."

Salvatore's face went completely dark, fury churning in his eyes.

"What kind of attitude is that? Apologize to Carmela right now. She's injured and she still insisted on finishing that whole medicinal meal of hers. Do you have any idea what that heart of hers is worth?"

I glanced at the insulated container in his hand and felt a cold smile tug at my lips.

"I've done right by everyone. The only one I've wronged is myself. Sever the blood-union. I'm tired."

His furious expression froze on his face, as if he couldn't believe those words had come from me. The ring stopped turning under his thumb.

And my sister, always so reserved, found her courage this time and spoke up to Lorenzo.

"We're severing ours too."

This suffocating house, with its silence that pressed down like a hand at the throat, we couldn't bear another minute in it.

Lorenzo's hands stilled mid-motion over the woman's shoes, and he shot upright, disbelief written all over his face.