Chapter 3 Better Than You

Matteo glared down at his daughter furiously.

"Where have you been?" He demanded, his voice barely restrained. "Did you go out like that?" 

His gaze roved over her nightdress with open disgust. "Have you been soiling yourself in the dark?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No, father, I—"

"Impudent!" He roared. "Brazen little thing. Have you taken it upon yourself to disgrace our family at every turn?"

He strode forward and gripped her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh.

"Tell me the truth!" He snarled, shaking her like a ragged doll, "Tell me!"

Pain flared in Eloise's arm. "You are hurting me, Father," she gasped, clawing at his hand, panic tightening her chest.

The door burst open.

"Matteo!"

Her mother rushed in, her eyes filled with terror. "No!"

She grabbed her husband's arm, prying his fingers loose. Eloise stumbled back, clutching her arm to her chest, lungs gasping for air as though she'd been underwater. Matteo glared at both of them before storming out of the room.

After a while, her mother turned to her. It was as if whatever softness she came in with had vanished. 

"Must you continue with your bull-headed ways?" She asked coldly.

Eloise opened her mouth, a retort forming but then she saw the bruise on her mother's cheek. A dark, ugly thing blooming beneath the skin. Her words died on her tongue.

"Why do you let Papa treat you that way?" Eloise asked instead, "Why do you let him hit you?"

Her mother's face turned to granite.

"You have no idea about what you speak of?" She snapped.

"He hits you Mama," Eloise continued, genuinely trying to understand her mother, "and you just... Take all of it—"

"Enough!"

Martha snapped, her voice silencing Eloise. 

"Now listen to me girl, I will not hear any more nonsense from you."

She straightened, lifting her chin. "I am married to your father, that is all that matters."

Eloise shook her head. "No Mama, I don't think so, I don't think your worth is tied to any man—"

A murderous dark, look flashed across her mother's face. 

Her gaze landed on the bed, on the open book Elosie forgot to hide.

"These books!" Her mother screamed, pointing at them with rage, "These cursed books!"

She went to bed and snatched up Pride and Prejudice.

"You've been filling your head with nonsense! Didn't I warn you not to bring any of these to the trip?"

"Give it back!"

Eloise lunged, grabbing the book back and clutching it to get chest. 

Her mother's look turned bitter. "Now you listen to me carefully, girl. I allowed your excesses because you were born sick, frail little thing that you were, fighting for your life."

Each word was a stab to Eloise's heart. 

"I sacrificed my youth nursing you," her mother continued, "and when I prayed for more children God shut his ears."

All her life, Eloise had been made to feel like a disappointment, now more than ever, she saw the glaring reality in her mother's eyes.

"You'd better hope you find a good match," her mother said, turning toward the door. "And soon."

The door closed behind her with a thud.

Eloise sank onto the bed, angry tears spilling down her face. Her arms throbbed, her chest felt like it could split into two. 

She wiped her face fiercely, as though angry at herself for spilling them.

She will never marry anyone. She knew it then with chilling clarity.

If she stayed, that would be her future—sold, silenced and broken down piece by piece. Eloise lifted her head, her resolve hardening into a plan. She knew what must be bone. She must run away soon.

---

The drawing room of the Caputo estate was extravagant. Everything there whispered of old money and power. 

Eloise could see her reflection on marble floors polished to perfection. Oil painting of grim-faced men, past Dons, she assumed, watched from the walls. 

She sat among her cousins, stiff-backed on a velvet sofa, her hands folded in her lap. 

Outside the room, their parents' voices drifted faintly. Her father and her uncle were discussing with the Caputos. No doubt about future alliances and business. 

Although the Caputos did not say it aloud, they made it obvious that they thought the Bernardis were beneath them. Useful, perhaps, necessary, maybe. But never equals.

Eloise hated the dress she was forced into. The stiff fabric made her uncomfortable and she longed for her loose trousers and a simple top. Instead, she was paraded like goods waiting for inspection.

She loathed more the chatter of her cousins.

Rose and Amelia sat close together, fingers constantly smoothing their dresses, touching necklaces, whispering and giggling behind their palms. The smug smiles on their faces made them hideous and Eloise could barely stand the look of arrogance they were throwing her way.

Chloe, only fourteen, sat apart quietly. Eloise had taken a liking to her from the moment they met. To Elosie, Chloe had more brains than both her elder sisters combined. 

Amelia leaned closer to Rose, her voice deliberately loud. "And when you marry Massimo," she said, eyes gleaming with spite, "and have his children, you'll be the bride of the greatest Mafia Don in the world."

Rose let out a delightful laugh. "Imagine," she sighed, preening. "Power like that, everyone bowing."

Their gazes shifted to Eloise, mockery glinting in them.

Eloise did not flinch, if anything, she looked absolutely bored.

"I doubt," she said coolly, cutting through their whispers, "that either of you is smart enough to know the difference between being chosen and being owned."

They both opened their mouth in shock.

Rose pivoted towards Elosie, face flushing red. 

"What did you just say to me?"