The Last Bell at St. Patrick's

We'd been together seven years before Damian Caruso finally agreed to the wedding. Inside St. Patrick's Cathedral, I stood at the aisle in a lace gown, surrounded by the most dangerous mafia elders from New York and New Jersey. Three minutes, and the Don would take his vows and take over the rest of my life. Then he answered a phone call. "Bella got into a car accident. In Brooklyn." Bella. The orphan of a dead servant. The "life debt" Damian owed her. Her needs always came before mine. When a gun was to my head, he was at her therapy. When I nearly went into shock from fever, he missed my call because he was staying the night with Bella, who's afraid of the dark. Now, at our vows, Damian turned to the priest. "Apologies. Something's come up. The wedding is postponed." The room erupted. Young lieutenants laughed openly. A betting board appeared on the screen: [$100,000 says our future Donna lets the Don go to Bella. She's been trained too well.] Damian saw it. He didn't get angry. He draped his coat over my shoulders. "Viola, I have to go. You've always been the sensible one. As future Donna, you know how to handle this. Don't let them make a joke of us." Yeah. I used to be so "sensible." For seven years, I swallowed every grievance and cleaned up his messes. "Go. I'll wait here." My voice was calm. He nodded, satisfied, and strode out. The bells rang seven times—seven years of me bleeding for him. When the seventh fell, his car had vanished around the corner. And with it, the last of my hope. Damian thought I'd be waiting, like always. But this time, I was done. Chapter 1 I snapped back to reality and found several family elders in the front rows watching me with complicated expressions. "Viola." Old Anthony, a man of considerable standing in the family, tapped his cane against the floor. "What Damian did today wasn't decent. But as the future Don's wife, and the family's bookkeeper, you have to withstand this kind of test. Bella's father did the Caruso family a great service. Damian can't just ignore her." He paused, then added: "You've always been the reasonable one. Don't throw a fit." I nodded. "You're right, Uncle Anthony. I won't make a scene." With that, I slipped off Damian's trench coat and handed it to the bodyguard beside me. Lifting the heavy train of my gown, I walked down from the altar, step by step. No outburst. No dramatics. In the side hall, I changed out of the wedding dress and back into my usual black tailored suit. I handled the aftermath of that absurd wedding with grace, smiling as I saw off every guest who'd come to watch the show. It wasn't until late at night that I got back to the Caruso family estate in Long Island. The fireplace in the living room was roaring. Damian was already home. He was pouring a drink. When he saw me, his hand paused. "Why are you back so late?" There was a faint note of exasperation in his voice, like he thought I was sulking about the wedding. "Viola, I'm sorry about today. But someone tampered with Bella's car. She was terrified. I just got her settled into Safehouse Seven in Long Island." Safehouse Seven. The "coded fortress" Damian had promised was ours and ours alone. The highest security level. The passcode was my birthday. I stared at him. "You put Bella in Safehouse Seven?" "Yes." Damian rubbed his brow. "It's the safest place. She can't handle any more stress right now. Don't go bothering her." "She's in Safehouse Seven. Then where do I go?" "We have better rooms here at the estate." His tone dropped, taking on that familiar lecturing note. "Viola, the Don's wife shouldn't fixate on one house. You need to learn tolerance. Bella's only staying a few days." "Mm." I gave a quiet hum. That calm "mm" made Damian's brows furrow deeper. "Why aren't you fighting me?" He stared at me. "I thought you'd throw a fit." "Didn't you always tell me not to make scenes? That this is a test of my grace?" I looked back at him, calm. "I'm being sensible now." The living room fell into a suffocating silence. We just stared at each other. After a long time, Damian let out a sigh and reached out to touch my hair. "Don't be like this, Viola. Once this blows over, I'll give you a bigger, grander wedding. I'll make today up to you, double." Make it up. So seven years of my youth, and the mockery of all New York, could be made up. I turned my head and dodged his hand. Damian's hand froze midair. His face went cold in an instant. "Viola, don't give me this cold-war attitude." He lowered his voice. "I'm tired enough already." "I'm not giving you a cold war." I turned and headed upstairs. "Besides. I'm tired too." When I got to my room, my phone buzzed. A message from Bella. [Viola, thank you for letting me borrow Safehouse Seven. Damian said the passcode was originally your birthday, but he just changed it to mine to put me at ease. Don't blame him. He just cares too much about my safety.] I read it. My fingers hovered over the input box. In the end, I typed nothing and locked the screen. If this were before, I'd have called Damian, furious, demanding answers. But now, I just felt tired. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card a guest had slipped me at the wedding. On it was the silver-stamped emblem of another family. The Gambino family. I looked at the address and contact info, and my decision was already made. Chapter 2 The next morning, I was in the estate's study as usual, going over the Caruso family's accounts from last quarter. The door pushed open. Damian's right-hand man, Locke, walked in, carefully carrying a dark green velvet box. "Donna, this is a gift from the Don. He said yesterday's wedding put you through too much." I didn't look up. My pen kept moving steadily across the ledger. "Leave it." I knew what was in the box. An antique brooch engraved with the Caruso family crest, the thornbird. The symbol of the Don's wife through every generation. Damian had promised me he'd pin it on me himself the day after our wedding. I set down my pen and was about to open the box when my phone lit up. A message from Bella. A selfie. In the photo, she was wearing a men's shirt I recognized instantly. Her face was pale, but pinned right there on her collar was the thornbird brooch. The Caruso Donna's brooch. [Viola, Damian said wearing the family crest makes her feel safe. You're already the recognized future Donna. You won't mind lending it to me for a few days, right? Just as a good-luck charm.] I froze. Then I reached over and flipped the lock on the velvet box. The lid popped open. Empty. So the box Locke delivered was empty. The real brooch had already been pinned by Damian's own hands onto another woman's chest. I closed the box, picked up my phone, and called Damian. "Damian, using an empty box as your so-called 'compensation.' Is that the Caruso family's new humor, or the last bit of respect you have for me?" Silence on the other end for a beat. Then Damian sighed. "Viola, let me explain. Bella got into an accident yesterday. She's on the verge of a breakdown. She saw me holding the brooch and said the crest made her feel safe. I figured you weren't in a rush to wear it, so I lent it to her for a few days. I forgot to tell Locke I'd already taken it out. I wasn't trying to provoke you." I looked out the window at the bare oak trees, and something desolate took root in my chest. "But that's the symbol of every Donna before me." "Viola, you're already the recognized next Donna. You don't need a piece of jewelry to prove that." Damian's voice dropped, slipping into that familiar script. "A real Donna's true symbol is her grace. Don't nitpick over something this small. Show me some magnanimity, alright? I'll have Locke pick you up a better diamond necklace from Bulgari." I went quiet. Seven years. He always did this. Taking what was mine to soothe Bella, then dressing it up as the bigger picture a Donna should have. Because in his eyes, I was strong enough. So I didn't need to be favored. "Alright." I said it softly. "That's my girl." Damian let out a breath, his tone gentle again. "Wait for me. We'll have dinner tonight." After I hung up, I let out a long breath. This time, it felt like what I'd given up wasn't just a brooch. Chapter 3 That afternoon, I drove out to Safehouse Seven. I'd never imagined Damian would let anyone else stay there. So I'd left some personal things inside. Including the one thing my mother had left me before she died. A hand-painted antique porcelain music box. I found the old chat log from the time Damian ditched me to spend Bella's birthday with her. I used that date, entered Bella's birthday, and the lock clicked open. Bella was curled up on the couch watching TV. And she was wearing the matching set Damian had custom-made for me last year when we went skiing in Switzerland. "Viola, what are you doing here?" Bella stood up, her fingers twisting nervously at the hem of her shirt. I looked at her coldly. "Take it off." Bella flinched. Her eyes went red instantly. "Viola, I was just cold. This was sitting in the closet. Nobody was wearing it. I thought…" "Take it off!" I stepped forward, cutting off her soft little excuse. "Viola! What are you doing?!" Rapid footsteps behind me. Damian had shown up out of nowhere. He pulled Bella behind him and glared at me, brows locked tight. "Viola just told me to take my clothes off, Damian. Don't blame her…" Bella hid behind him, her voice a wounded little whimper. Damian's face went completely cold. "Viola, you know Bella can't handle stress right now. Why would you come here just to fight her over a piece of clothing? Everything I taught you about patience and grace. Did you forget all of it?" I didn't bother with his protective stance. I didn't argue with his guilt-tripping either. I quietly gathered my personal things and the porcelain music box. I was just turning to leave when Bella suddenly stepped out from behind Damian, like she wanted to grab my hand. "Viola, don't be mad. I'll give the clothes back right now…" Her movement was big. On purpose or not, her arm slammed hard into my hand. Crack! The porcelain music box hit the floor and shattered into pieces. The winding key snapped loose, letting out a few shrill, off-key whimpers before going silent for good. The living room fell into dead silence. I stared at the pieces on the floor. The only thing my mother had left me. "Ah… I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Bella covered her mouth, tears pouring down her face, cowering into Damian's arms. "I just got so scared when Viola yelled at me…" I lifted my eyes to Damian. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. But a second later, he spoke again, laying down the verdict. "Viola, Bella didn't mean it. It was just an old music box. Broken is broken. As the future Donna of the Caruso family, this loss of control disappoints me. You scared her." I listened to him take her side, and I had nothing to say. Before, I would've fought him tooth and nail, screaming to prove myself. But now, looking at the two of them tangled in each other's arms, I felt nothing. Not a ripple. "You're right. I lost control." I didn't try to prove how "sensible" I was this time. I turned and walked toward the door. Chapter 4 "Viola! So you're throwing a tantrum at me now. Don't come crying back to apologize in a couple days!" Behind me, Damian's roar, barely containing his fury. He sounded so certain. Certain that seven years together was the soft spot I couldn't cut loose. Certain that I'd do what I'd always done. Swallow every grievance in silence and come back to clean up his mess. This time, he was wrong. Back at the Caruso estate, it took me all of half an hour to pack a few clothes and my personal documents into a small suitcase. On the study desk sat the thick family ledger. I slid the black-gold pinky ring off my right hand, the one that marked me as the family's bookkeeper, and set it down next to the ledger. That done, I picked up my suitcase and walked out of the estate I'd lived in for seven whole years. New York winter nights cut straight to the bone. The cold wind hit my face. I stood outside the wrought-iron gates, my breath curling white in the air. Just then, a black sedan I didn't recognize slid up and stopped at my feet. The window rolled down, revealing a face wearing a faint, unreadable smile. It was the new Don of another of New York's most powerful families. The Gambino family. Lucien Gambino. "The old fossils in the Caruso family must be blind." Lucien held a cigar, his eyes sweeping over my suitcase, his voice laced with amusement. "Even outsiders can see it. The one Damian really loves is that little orphan girl." I stared into his eyes and said nothing. Lucien blew out a ring of smoke. His gaze turned sharp. "Viola, your talents are wasted there. Come to my side. The Gambino family is always in need of a true woman to run it." "I just left one mafia. I'm not interested in jumping straight into another mess." I turned him down coldly and started to walk away. "Don't be so quick to refuse." Lucien let out a soft laugh and handed a sealed manila envelope through the window. "A gift for our first meeting. Take a look. Think of it as me uncovering a… joke that's seven years late." I stopped. Suspicious, I took the envelope. I skimmed a few lines. Then my eyes locked onto one page and stopped dead. I froze where I stood.