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Prologue
My dearest Delilah,
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been honored to lay my eyes on. I can’t believe you’re mine, that I had some hand in creating you.
Your mother wants me to write this letter—she says it will make a great addition to all those crazy journals she keeps. One day, you’ll have questions, she says. One day, you’ll wonder why you have a different father than Lola, wonder why your mother left what seemed safe and sat by my side.
So, I’m writing you partly at her request but partly because I want you to know who you are and will one day be.
You are Delilah Antonia Russo, the sole heir to the Russo family. If I can convince your mother, I’ll give you a few brothers who will stare down the boys who fall for you like I did for her, or maybe some sisters you can boss around.
But no matter what, you are the first, and ruling is your right.
It might be hard, and you might be scared, but pressure turns coal into a diamond, just like it will do to you.
One day, I’ll pass. I hope before that happens, I get the chance to show you the ropes, to teach you to be strong and powerful. How to be just and kind. How to better our community, to use the power you inherit and grow to help those who need it and hurt those who abuse their own.
One day, men will stare at you and tell you that you’re in the wrong seat and that you don’t belong at the table.
I want you to spit in their faces.
You will be a queen one day, my Delilah. You will have the power to take this family further, to help our community, to grow and to flourish.
Your grandfather, your mother’s father, wanted to pair your mother with the Carluccios. He wanted power and greed and money, and he saw that the Russos weren’t that. Your mother made choices that separated us, but in the end, we have our family.
In three weeks, your mother will leave Turner.
In three weeks, we will start our forever together.
But no matter what, I will love you forever and a day, mia principessa.
Love, your father, Arturo Russo.
One
-Lilah-
When I was a little girl, my favorite Disney princess wasn’t Ariel or Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty.
I didn’t like the idea of giving up everything I was for a stupid prince. I didn’t want to sit around waiting for some fairy godmother to help me out or to be dumb enough to fall for the tricks of some bitch who was jealous of me.
No, I saw myself as Rapunzel.
Stuck in a tower, whisked away from danger, and meant to stay there. To be pretty and grateful I was even given the opportunity to serve those who watched over me.
As I got older, the parallels were even more apparent, and when I found the box of journals that blew my world apart, those fairy tales were the only thing keeping me together.
It wasn’t even the promise of a happily ever after that saved me. It was the promise of freedom. The idea that those who hurt me, who used me, they would get what was due.
Just like Rapunzel, the person who locked me in the tower to use me for his own benefit was a man who called himself my parent. A man I would later find out wasn’t that at all.
But of all the similarities, there was one I felt down to my soul. You see, Rapunzel looked out her window each day and dreamed of more.
She wanted to explore and live life and maybe, possibly, rule.
Before I even knew how much my life would one day reflect the story of the long-haired princess, I saw myself in her.
And now, I want revenge for both of us.
