The Lies They Told in Sicily

Over the next few days, the wind sweeping through Sicily carried the chill of early spring. It cut through layers of clothing and seeped straight into your bones.

I stood on the top floor of an abandoned factory, wind rushing through the broken windows. From somewhere below, the dull sounds of fists and kicks echoed faintly through the empty structure.

Paolo held out a cigarette to me. I lifted my hand and pushed it away.

“No. Mark doesn’t like it when I smoke.”

Then, I turned to him. “By the way, look into the woman Mark brought back last night.”

“You want to investigate the Don’s woman?” Paolo asked. “Eliza, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The Don won’t be happy if he finds out.”

“And if I insist? Paolo, are you helping me or not?”

He sighed. “Eliza, you’re my friend. Of course I’ll help you. But let me tell you something: you’re the smartest woman I’ve ever met, so you should understand better than anyone that love is the last thing that should exist in our world.”

He shoved both hands into his coat pockets and stared down at the ruins below with me.

“You know the Don will never marry you. It’s only because you risked your life for him that he treats you well. But marry you?” He shook his head slightly. “You know that’s impossible.”

I knew that. Mark trusted me. He had spoiled me and favored me all these years because I once took a bullet for him; I saved his life.

Over the last six years, there wasn’t a single person in our circle whose hands were bloodier than mine. Sometimes, when I looked into the mirror in the middle of the night, I felt like a demon crawling out of hell. Sometimes, I even forgot who I was.

I lifted my head and looked at the gray, overcast sky. I didn’t care how many women Mark had. I was just afraid that the six years I had spent lying low, enduring and waiting, would be thrown off course by one unexpected woman.

“Let’s go,” I said. “It’s time to meet the young lady the Don brought home.”

The place Mark arranged for her to live in was the most luxurious ocean-view villa in Taormina. When I stepped inside, I saw a young woman sitting on the sofa in a silk slip dress, quietly reading a book.

The moment she saw me, she stood up nervously. Her eyes flickered uncertainly. “You… Are you the Don’s wife?”

I was slightly surprised by the question. I walked over and sat down on the sofa across from her.

“No.”

“Oh…”

The girl shrank back toward the corner, looking disappointed. “I thought… I thought the only woman worthy of the Don would be someone beautiful and capable like you.”

Her eyes were filled with a kind of innocence untouched by the world.

I let out a silent laugh in my heart. Here was another woman fooled by Mark’s carefully crafted mask. I was just about to reach out and pat her head when a sharp voice cut through the room.

“Miss Eliza, the Don has given orders. You are not allowed to touch Miss Lillian.”

Several bodyguards immediately surrounded us. Although they still showed me a certain degree of respect, their stance was clearly defensive.

“Please do not come to this villa again,” one of them said. “This is now Miss Lillian’s residence.”

The girl curled up in fear, shrinking into herself.

I raised an eyebrow. Even I wasn’t allowed to touch her? I had never seen this level of protection before.

“Fine. I’m leaving.”

Over the years, Mark had had countless women by his side, but never once had any of them received treatment like that. So what exactly made her different?