Chapter 1
Grace’s POV
My life hasn’t always been perfect. In fact, some would say that I complain too much, especially considering I have everything I could ever want, thanks to my father. And they’d be right. I do have everything, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. My father is a don in Las Vegas. Everything related to gambling belongs to him. Sure, it’s legal now to have places where those games are held, but when you’re part of the mafia, and all kinds of shady people come to our house to do business with my father… it’s not exactly fun.
All I want is to finish my last year of high school and then go somewhere far away. Maybe to another country.
I sigh, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the noise coming from downstairs. Another meeting, another group of men with too many secrets and not enough scruples. This has been my life for as long as I can remember—surrounded by power, money, and the suffocating weight of my family’s name.
People see the glitz and glamour, the expensive clothes, and the luxury cars, but they have no idea what it’s like behind closed doors. They don’t know what it feels like to be trapped in a golden cage. Most girls my age are worrying about prom dresses and graduation parties. Me? I’m worrying about how to survive in a world where the wrong glance, the wrong word, could mean the difference between life and death.
I’ve been planning my escape for years. My father doesn’t know, of course. He wouldn’t understand. To him, family is everything, and loyalty is the only currency that truly matters. But for me, loyalty has become a chain, and the longer I stay, the tighter it gets.
There’s a knock at the door, pulling me from my thoughts. I sit up, brushing the stray strands of hair out of my face. "Come in," I call out, trying to sound casual, like I haven’t just been fantasizing about running away.
My father’s right-hand man, Luca, steps into the room. Tall, dark, and dangerous, he’s been by my father’s side for as long as I can remember. He gives me a curt nod, his usual stoic expression never wavering.
"Your father wants to see you downstairs," he says, his voice low and serious, as always.
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "Of course he does," I mutter under my breath, but Luca doesn’t react. He never does.
I stand up, straightening my clothes, and follow Luca out of the room. As we make our way down the grand staircase, the sounds from below grow louder—voices, laughter, the clinking of glasses. Another business deal in the works, no doubt. I brace myself for the usual charade. Smile, nod, pretend like I care about what these men have to say.
When we enter the room, my father is standing at the center of it all, commanding attention as always. He’s surrounded by men in expensive suits, all of them watching him like he’s the sun, and they’re just planets orbiting around him. It makes me sick.
"Grace," my father says, his voice warm but with an undercurrent of authority that I know all too well. "Come, meet our guests."
I force a smile and step forward, my heart sinking with every step. This is my life. For now, anyway. But not for much longer.
One day soon, I’ll be gone. Far away from this world, far away from my father, and everything he stands for.
As I shake hands with men whose names I won’t remember, I feel it deep in my bones—this life isn’t mine. And one day, I’ll be free.
But for now, I play the part.
The moment I step into the room, I feel the weight of their eyes on me—calculating, assessing, like I'm just another asset in my father's collection. The scent of expensive cigars and fine whiskey hangs in the air, suffocating. I’m used to it by now, the way these men look at me like I’m an extension of my father’s empire, nothing more.
"Grace," my father’s voice cuts through the haze of smoke and murmurs. "This is Mr. Moretti. He’s helping us with a new project."
I turn to face the man in question, a sharp-dressed older gentleman with cold, blue eyes that seem to pierce right through me. I offer my hand, feeling the brief, clammy grip of his palm before quickly pulling away. His smile is too wide, too knowing, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
"A pleasure, Miss Caruso," he says, his voice oozing with false charm.
I nod politely, keeping my expression neutral, though my stomach twists with unease. "Likewise."
I’ve learned how to act in these situations. How to smile when I want to scream. How to appear obedient and harmless, the perfect daughter, when in reality, I’m plotting my escape with every breath I take.
But tonight, something feels different. There’s a tension in the air, thicker than usual. My father is more on edge, his eyes darting between the men in the room like he’s waiting for something to happen. Even Luca, always calm and composed, stands just a little closer to my father than usual, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk.