I was not sure when exactly Sally and Fiona became close. It just happened one day, out of nowhere. The strawberry juice he used to bring me every morning was suddenly replaced with plain milk.

"You know I hate plain milk. How do you not know that?" I stared at the carton in my hand, annoyed.

"Come on, the only reason you even liked strawberry juice was that the bottle was pink. You're too old to be drinking strawberry juice every day. Milk is healthier." Sally patted me on the head.

Fiona was holding a carton of plain milk too. She turned to me with a sheepish little smile. "Sorry, pink princess. I like plain milk, so I asked Sal to get this instead."

She paused, then added, "Besides, strawberry juice is sickeningly sweet. Is that really what girls like you drink?"

I set the milk down and looked her dead in the eye. "Do you always give people nicknames they didn't ask for?"

She stiffened, then put on a look of surprise and innocence. "Wow, why so serious? I was just joking. You're way too sensitive, gosh."

"Whether I'm sensitive or you just have a guilty conscience, you know the answer to that."

"Alright, Gia. That's enough." Sally stepped in, looking like he had a headache. "Fiona didn't mean it. She just sometimes says things without thinking. Don't take it to heart."

I was so angry my eyes stung. I shoved Sally hard, then turned back to Fiona. "If you don't know how to talk to people, then don't talk at all!"

Sally flinched in surprise and wrapped his arm around my waist without thinking. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Don't be mad. I'll bring you strawberry juice tomorrow, alright?"

Fiona's expression shifted the moment she saw that. She stared at me, hard.

After that, she came for me every single time we crossed paths.

If I pulled out a pack of tissues with pink packaging, she would make a huge scene. "Oh, wow! Even your tissues have to be pink? Do you think you're a princess or something?"

If I wiped my shoes with a wet wipe, she would nudge the boys who liked to tease me and roll her eyes. "The princess' clean freak tendencies are out of control."

At a friend's birthday party, I sat down to catch my breath after dancing, and Fiona shouted across the room, "The princess is tired! Someone get over here and give her a massage!"

Every time, the boys who hung around her would play right along, each one laughing harder than the last like it was the funniest thing they had ever seen.

Sally pushed back at first, telling her to knock it off. However, Fiona waved him off. "It's just a joke. Gia takes herself way too seriously. I'm actually helping her loosen up and get along with everyone."

Sally thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Gia does act kind of like a princess. Are all girls like this these days?"

Fiona punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey, don't lump me in with those prissy little girls. I'm nothing like them."

Sally smiled at that.

My heart sank.

The truth was, I always knew Sally thought I was high-maintenance—that I was too delicate, too temperamental. I supposed for most boys who grew up in the mafia, liking pink, being a clean freak, and not being physically strong was all it took to earn the princess label.

One day, I finally snapped.

I had just come back from a vacation with my parents at our family's beachside estate in Florica. My skin had tanned quite a bit from the sun, though it had happened before, so I did not think much of it.

That evening, I wore a pink dress to a party.

Fiona spotted me and raised her voice for everyone to hear. "Oh my God! Gia, you're still wearing pink? Don't you think that looks awful on you? You seriously don't see how ridiculous you look?"

She was not done. "I'm sorry, I can't. This is killing me. What kind of princess looks like that? You look more like an old witch!"

She and a group of boys collapsed into laughter.

Sally seemed to find it funny too. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

In that moment, a wave of helplessness and humiliation swallowed me whole. I felt the blood rush to my head, and my fists clenched at my sides.

With their laughter still ringing in my ears, I grabbed my glass and threw the drink right in her face.

Fiona froze, frantically wiping at her dripping face. She had done her makeup perfectly that night, and the water sent it streaking down her cheeks.

She sputtered and coughed. "What the hell? Are you insane?"

"Oh my God." I mimicked her tone. "With all that fake lash glue, foundation, lipstick, and whatever that eyeshadow is supposed to be, I'd say you're the one who looks like a clown."

I turned to leave, but a few of the boys stepped in to block my path.

Sally walked over and took the glass out of my hand. "Gia, apologize."

He looked down at me with furrowed brows and spoke in a cold voice.

My eyes burned as I stared back at him. "Did you not hear what she said to me? She called me an old witch."

"That's a separate issue. You already said your piece. Now you need to apologize for throwing a drink in her face.

"You made a mistake, so own it. Stop acting like a child." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just apologize. Fiona won't hold it against you."

I let out a cold laugh. "Not a chance. The only way I'm apologizing to her is over her dead body."

Sally's eyes went wide, then he slapped me across the face.

I left the party before it was over and told the driver to take me straight back to the Vitale estate. The moment I got to my room, I tore the place apart. I ripped through the bookshelves, the closets, the storage cabinets, pulling everything out until the room was a mess.

I grabbed a large cardboard box and dug out every single thing Sally had ever given me, throwing it all inside.

The necklace he gave me for my 12th birthday, the custom bracelet he shyly pressed into my hand on Valentine's Day when I turned 13, the jacket he got me for New Year's when I was 15 that he picked out without me having to say a word because he just knew I would love it, and the diary with the pink cover that he gave me when I was ten. I had filled every page with my girlhood secrets and daydreams.

It took an entire box to fit it all.

Once I was sure I had not missed a single thing, I carried the box downstairs, marched right up to the front of the Morelli estate in full view of their guards and staff, and threw the whole thing in the trash.

When I was done, my parents still were not home. I called Mama.

"Hey, baby, what's wrong?"

"Mama. When you get home tonight, go next door and tell Don Tony and Donna Rose that Sally and I are done. And one more thing."

My voice went cold. "Starting today, Sally is not allowed to set foot in our house. Tell him to stay the hell away from me."

When Mama came home, she took one look at the handprint on my face and her expression shifted between panic and fury. I told her everything that had been going on.

By the time I finished, she was livid. She turned around and went straight to the Morelli estate.

Sally's mother, Donna Rose Conti, still had no idea what had happened.

Mama did not waste a single breath. She laid out the entire story, piece by piece. How Sally slapped me hard across the face, how he stood by and did nothing while that Lanza girl bullied and humiliated me for months, and how, in the end, he stepped in front of Fiona to protect her instead of me.

The color drained from Donna Rose's face.

Mama said, "Our Principessa has never been mistreated a day in her life. The code of silence never taught her how to forgive a man who raised his hand to her."

The truth was, our two families had always been close. The bond went back a generation, years and years of friendship and loyalty, and today it cracked because of me.

Still, Mama did not blame me. She pulled me into her arms, gentle and steady. "No one gets to hurt our Gia. Whatever you decide, your Papa and I are behind you."

Everything I had been holding in finally broke loose. My nose stung and my throat tightened as I buried my face against her and cried.

Papa flew back from Sicilica that same night. He saw the mark on my face and said nothing for a long time. His expression was unreadable, hard and still.

The next morning, Don Tony came to our door in person to apologize. Papa refused to see him. The staff stopped Don Tony in the foyer and told him that Papa had left early for the docks to handle a shipment and would not be back for some time.

Don Tony stood in the entryway, jaw tight, face like stone. He knew it was an excuse. Of course he did. But there was nothing he could do except grip his hat and leave.

After that day, everything between the two families went cold. The weekly dinners they used to share stopped entirely.

Business continued on the surface, but everyone could see the truth. The relationship between the Vitale and Morelli families was on the verge of falling apart.

Sally must have found the box I threw away when he came home that evening, because he showed up at my door, furious, pounding on it. "Gia! Get out here! We need to talk."

I opened the door. Sally's expression was ice-cold. "Why did you throw away everything I gave you?"

"That's none of your business." I stared back at him, detached. The handprint from that morning was still on my face. Sally had not held back. My cheek was bruised and swollen, the outline of his fingers clearly visible, and instead of fading with time, it had only gotten worse.

When Sally saw my face, his expression changed. He stared at the mark, frozen, and after a long silence, he muttered, "I didn't know it would be this bad."

He reached out to touch my cheek.

I stepped back, my face blank. I rarely got hurt. In the past, whenever I so much as bumped into something, I would run to Sally with tears in my eyes and complain until he comforted me.

It was not that I could not handle pain. I was actually pretty tough. Sometimes I would get a scratch and not even notice it for days. I just liked being babied by the person I loved.

However, not anymore.

Sally had never seen me like this before, cold and shut off. For a moment, he looked like he could not believe what he was seeing.

"I didn't mean to, Gia. It's just that you were screaming at her, and I lost my temper..."

I cut him off, "Since you're here, let's get this over with. We're done. The engagement is off. Starting today, we're strangers.

"From now on, call me by my full name. If we run into each other at a party, don't talk to me. And don't ever come knocking on my door like this again."

I moved to close the door.

Sally grabbed my hand and locked his eyes on mine. His expression shifted from guilt to anger to disbelief.

"Are you serious right now? Gia? If you're upset because I hit you, I'll apologize. Don't you think you're being a little extreme? Have you thought about what happens when you regret this?"

"I won't regret it."

"Why?" He was barely keeping his temper in check. "Just because I accidentally slapped you?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "Sì. Just because of a slap."

"Fine. If this is what you want, then so be it." Sally laughed, the kind of laugh that came from pure fury, and slammed the door on his way out.

…

The next day, Sally and Fiona announced to the entire class that they were officially together. I was not surprised. Looking back, all the signs had been there.

When Fiona first came into our circle, her outgoing, no-filter personality helped her fit right in with the men in the mafia families. But she barely spent any time with the women, saying something like, "I just get along better with guys. It's easier. No one talks behind your back. Women are too dramatic, always scheming and stirring things up. I can't deal with that.

"And those little princesses are so sensitive. Say one wrong thing and they hold a grudge forever. I'd rather just hang out with guys. It's way more chill."

Naturally, every woman in the mafia families could not stand her after that.

Fiona saw the reaction and turned to the men with a helpless little pout. "I know, I know, I shouldn't have said they were dramatic. Now I've really pissed them off.

"Great, here we go again. Another all-girl clique is shutting me out. Whatever. I'm used to it."

Just like that, she had us cornered. She was the one who refused to spend time with us, who called us prissy and overdramatic. But the moment no woman wanted anything to do with her, she turned around and accused us of freezing her out, of ganging up on her.

I came home and could not help venting to my parents about it.

"Cara, I understand. I've dealt with women like that before. The best thing you can do is ignore her. Don't let her get in your head. And whatever you do, don't get close to her."

Sally happened to be at our house. He overheard everything, and his jaw tightened. He was the type of person who never talked about anyone behind their back, and he had no patience for people who did.

"Don Vitale, Donna, Gia, don't you think it's a little wrong to talk about someone like that behind their back?"

My parents and I stood there, mortified.

I only found out later just how close they had already become. At some point, without me realizing it, Sally and Fiona had built what he considered a deep friendship.

Fiona was gorgeous and fun to be around, and she was always at Sally's side. She volunteered herself as his dance partner at parties.

That used to be my spot. But within two weeks of knowing Fiona, Sally's dance partner had quietly and seamlessly become her.

Fiona could also drive race cars. She got along with the boys, many of whom were Sally's closest Soldatos and friends, and she won them over fast.

Sally's impression of her shifted completely. She went from being the girl who mocked a stranger for no reason on day one to being the fun, easygoing, brutally honest girl who just said whatever was on her mind.

Sally, who had always hated the idea of spending all his time attached to a girl, accepted Fiona's presence without a second thought. He would throw his arm around her shoulders, and the two of them would laugh together right in front of me like I was not even there.

Sometimes, I would see Fiona sitting on the back of his motorcycle, grinning in the sun, as he and his boys tore through the estate in a loud, rowdy pack.

It used to sting, but I always told myself they were just friends. I told myself that the one Sally loved was me.

As it turned out, I was the fool. I had been deluding myself the entire time.