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🥀 My sister was sold to a Mafia Don. “He says I have to marry this man, Sergio Bianchi. Dad already agreed. They signed some kind of… contract.” All my spiraling catastrophizing seemed to be on point. I blinked unbidden tears out of my eyes, shaking hard. “No. No, no, no, no, Gia. That’s not happening.” “Dad says he already talked to him,” Gia said. “And who the hell is this Sergio Bianchi?” Gia groaned, like she’d been sitting on this bomb. “He’s… some guy Dad knows from the club. He’s Sicilian. He runs a restaurant in Queens. Only… it’s not just a restaurant,” she muttered almost conspiratorially. “Dad keeps saying he has… influence. That he’s respected. You know, respected.” Jesus, this was getting worse and worse by the minute. That word wasn’t casual where I came from.