Vincent Moretti and I were the only two to make it out of the Sicilian training camp alive—a place that was hell on earth.

In the underworld, they said the Moretti family had raised a pair of devils, twin fiends from the abyss.

"Elena," he once told me, "our lives are bound together. We rule this world side-by-side, or we burn in hell together. Neither of us gets to let go first."

On the day he became Don of the Moretti family, I eliminated the last obstacle for him. My reward was the news that my only daughter, Stella, had died of a heart attack.

The life-saving medicine she needed had been intercepted in transit.

When I discovered the culprit was connected to a woman named Sofia, Vincent shielded her, holding a grand reception to formally introduce her.

"Sofia is the angel who pulled me back from hell. She's not like us—she doesn't have blood on her hands. This matter is closed."

A chill shot down my spine. "Vincent, our daughter is dead!"

He just frowned. "I regret what happened to Stella. But you are still the Donna of the Moretti family. We're young; we can have other children."

"But think of Sofia... she can't lose her only brother."

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1

"Kill Leo, Vincent, and I'll drop the matter of who intercepted Stella's medicine."

Vincent gave me no such chance. Instead, a territory transfer agreement was shoved in front of me.

"Elena, be reasonable. I need her brother's territory."

I clutched the document, staring at him in disbelief.

"Vincent, you're asking me to spare the man who murdered our daughter?"

"When the Falcone family tried to kill me, Elena, it was Sofia who dragged me out of a pile of bodies. She risked her life for me."

"Her brother is my last stepping stone to absorbing their operation. I owe her this. As my wife, you're expected to see the bigger picture."

I ripped the agreement to shreds.

"Vincent, that was our daughter! Do you even hear yourself?"

"Elena, Stella's death was an accident. Leo is innocent..."

"An accident? Her life-saving medication was swapped with vitamins. The autopsy report is crystal clear, and you're telling me it was an accident?"

"Besides, the men hunting you back then were clearly..."

Before I could finish, Sofia stepped out from behind Vincent, her face a mask of tears.

"Elena, I know you're hurting, but my brother is innocent. He's all I have left. I'm begging you, please, let him go."

She took a shaky step forward. "I know you're angry. If a life is what it costs, then take mine."

"Fine. I'll grant your wish."

I raised my hand, the muzzle of my gun aimed squarely between her eyes.

"That's enough!"

Vincent lunged, stepping in front of Sofia and wrenching the gun from my hand.

"Elena, have I been too soft on you?"

At his signal, bodyguards swarmed and restrained me.

Vincent shielded Sofia carefully behind him, his gaze on me cold and indifferent.

"Sofia is innocent. She is my savior, and I will not let anyone harm her."

"I'm taking her brother's territory. Drop it."

"The Donna is tired. Escort her to her room. She is not to leave without my command."

Vincent placed me under house arrest in the manor.

The season's latest haute couture and jewels were delivered to my room like clockwork. On the surface, nothing had changed.

"Donna," one of the guards at the door pleaded, "just bend a little. We all know you're the one the Don truly cares for."

I watched the days tick by, the date for the takeover of Leo's territory drawing ever closer.

"Fine," I said. "Tell Vincent to come back. I'll apologize."

That night, Vincent returned to our bedroom, carrying the scent of gardenia—Sofia's perfume. A stark red kiss mark bloomed on his neck, just above his collar.

I recognized the mark for what it was: a message from Sofia. A taunt. A declaration of victory.

"Elena, no matter what happens, you will always be the Donna of the Moretti family," Vincent murmured, pulling me into a fierce embrace, his nose nuzzling my neck. "And my men will only ever recognize you."

"Is that so?"

I gave him a submissive smile and pushed him back onto the bed.

"Wait for me. I have a surprise for you."

I left the room, locking the door from the outside, and slipped out of the manor through a hidden passage.

I reached out to my old crew, but the response was always the same.

"It's not that we don't want to help, Elena, but the Don's orders were clear. Anyone who interferes makes an enemy of the entire Moretti family."

It was time to play my last hand.

The sound of high heels approached from a distance.

I looked up. Sofia, draped in a white dress, was sauntering toward me, flanked by several of Vincent's top assassins.

"Elena, look how pathetic you've become. Vince is about to take over my brother's territory."

She smiled. "I am his savior, after all. Why bother fighting it?"

I clenched my fists.

Five years ago, Vincent was ambushed by rivals in a Philadelphia warehouse, trapped in a sea of fire. I was the one who led my men through that inferno, dragging him from the flames myself.

But I was bleeding out and barely conscious. All I could do was ask Sofia, just a barmaid then, to watch over him.

I never imagined Sofia would take the credit for my actions, and I certainly never expected Vincent would repay me by letting our daughter die.

"I told you," I snarled, "I will avenge my daughter!"

I drew the backup dagger from my sleeve. I slit the throat of the first assassin to rush me, my blade continuing its arc, stabbing straight for Sofia's heart.

Bang!

A gunshot cracked through the air.

The bullet tore through my abdomen.

Vincent walked over, his own gun still smoking, and pulled Sofia behind him.

"I taught you everything you know, Elena. Did you really think you could fool me?"

Sofia clutched his sleeve, her sobs delicate and broken.

"Vince, don't hurt Elena. This is all my fault. I'll kneel. I'll apologize. If she wants my life, I'll give it."

"That won't be necessary." Vincent's voice was ice.

"Disobedience has consequences."

On the eve of the takeover of Leo's territory, I held a funeral for my daughter.

But the whispers in the underworld had already turned against me.

Overnight, all proof of my daughter's murder was erased.

A cold-blooded murder was twisted into a tragic accident, spun as a result of my own mental instability and neglect.

"I always knew Elena was ruthless, but to be so careless with her own daughter..."

"She can't even watch her own kid, and now she's trying to frame poor Sofia? The woman's insane."

"I heard Don Moretti dropped it, but she won't let it go. What, is she looking for a payout?"

"Like mother, like daughter. If you ask me, the kid had it coming."

The accusations followed me everywhere.

A mob appeared out of nowhere, trashing the memorial hall. They spray-painted the most vile, insulting words imaginable on my daughter's tombstone.

I clung to her urn for dear life, but I was no match for them.

The gunshot wound in my abdomen ripped open, fresh blood soaking through the gauze.

The urn was torn from my grasp and smashed against the ground. Her ashes spilled across the dirt, immediately trampled into a slurry of mud and footprints.

Throughout it all, the Moretti family bodyguards stood and watched. They had their orders from Vincent. They watched with cold indifference as I fought and failed alone.

A gust of wind scattered what was left.

The last trace of my daughter in this world was gone.

I collapsed, every ounce of strength drained from my body.

The day of the accident, she had gone to buy my favorite cake.

"Mamma," she'd said, "I'm going to buy you a little cake. You'll feel all better after you eat it."

Her small face was so serious. "And if Mamma is happy, Papa will come home to us more. He won't go see that bad auntie anymore."

Her voice echoed in the ruins of my mind.

God, how I hated them.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

Vincent approached, his custom Italian leather shoes leaving fresh prints in the soil that held my daughter's ashes.

"Tomorrow, I'm hosting a reception for Sofia. I'm officially recognizing her as my sworn sister."

"You, as the Donna of the Moretti family, will attend and offer a formal apology to Sofia and your future 'brother-in-law.' You will promise to never speak of this again."

My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood.

"And if I refuse?"

Vincent smiled, a calm, condescending look as he gazed down at me.

"Elena, we came out of Sicily together. You know what I'm capable of. If I recall, our old godfather, Marco, is still in that nursing home out in the suburbs, isn't he?"