Last Christmas—in my past life—I was on vacation when the call came. It was Lucy, the family’s new pet capo, and she was in a panic. She’d blown the deal with the Colombians, she said, and now they were threatening to make us pay.

I had to rush back and clean up the mess.

I saved the deal, but it still cost us a shipment of hardware.

And then Lucy, the one who caused the whole mess, pointed the finger straight at me. “It was Madeline! She gave me bad intel! She must’ve set me up!”

The truth? The deal went south because she mouthed off to the Colombians and pissed them off.

But Henry, the Godfather I’d served loyally for years, didn't want to hear my side. He just branded me a traitor.

He kicked me out of the family and put the word out to every outfit that I was a rat.

I had a price on my head. I died in some gutter, my body left for the dogs.

When I opened my eyes again, it was just before that Christmas.

This time, I walked straight into Henry's study and handed over my family signet. "I want out."

This time, I can’t wait to see who’s left holding the bag with the pissed-off Colombians.

I placed an onyx signet ring on the desk.

The mark of the Corleone family’s consigliere.

“I’m out, Godfather,” I said, my voice calm.

Henry froze. For a split second, I saw a flicker of relief—no, joy—in his eyes.

“Out? What kind of joke is this, Madeline?” He frowned. “The family is in the middle of crucial negotiations with the Colombians, and you pick now to leave?”

“This isn’t a joke.” I ignored his anger. “The handover files are ready. As of now, I’m no longer your consigliere.”

I knew Henry had wanted me gone for a while.

For the last five years, I was the brains of the operation. I’d taken this broke-ass street crew on the verge of collapse and built it into a real family, something with a name.

But as my reputation grew, the gratitude in Henry’s eyes turned to fear.

“Are you threatening me, Madeline?” Henry sneered, leaning back in his chair. “You think the Corleone family can’t run without you? You really think you’re some kind of savior?”

“I never thought that,” I replied coolly.

“Hmph. You’d better not,” Henry seethed, his voice dripping with jealousy. “The old-timers run things by you before they make a decision! Who’s the Godfather here, me or you?”

There it was. The truth.

Paranoid, greedy, and arrogant.

To reclaim his power, he’d spent the last six months chipping away at my influence, peeling off my accounts and turf and handing them to his newly promoted capo, Lucy.

He thought I didn't see it.

In my last life, I stayed because I was sentimental. I couldn't bear to leave the family I’d built from nothing.

But now that I’d seen his true colors, I wasn't about to make the same stupid mistake.

This whole damn family was about to fall apart, and if someone wanted to save it, it wasn't going to be me. I was done.

“If you’re so set on leaving, I won’t stop you.” Henry couldn't wait. He snatched the onyx ring, clutching it in his fist like he was afraid I’d change my mind.

His eyes gleamed with the thrill of having all the power back in his hands.

“But, Madeline, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Henry said, his chin held high in triumph. “Lucy has already promised me she can handle the Colombians. She can even get us a seventy-percent cut. No more of your weak-kneed ‘diplomacy.’”

I laughed to myself.

Lucy. All looks, no brains, and a thirst for power.

She had no idea how savage the Colombians could be.

Of course, she was going to screw it up.

Because she was a plant from a rival family.

I’d found that out by accident while I was on the run in my past life. It explained why she’d deliberately provoked the Colombians. And now, Henry was walking right into her trap, completely clueless.

“Is that so? Well, I wish you both the best,” I said with a slight smile.

The meeting was in three days, right before Christmas. Once she pissed off the Colombians, the war would start. The end of the Corleone family was just days away.

Henry pressed the intercom on his desk.

“Get Lucy and all the elders to the conference room. Now.”

Five minutes later, the room was full.

When Henry announced my official departure, the elders were in an uproar.

“What do you mean? Madeline is the brains of this family!” Vito, one of the old-timers, shot to his feet. “How are we supposed to negotiate with the Colombians without her?”

“Quiet!” Henry shot Vito a cold glare. “Madeline is tired. She needs a rest. We should respect her decision.”

The elders exchanged glances. Anyone could see the desperate haste in Henry’s eyes.

Just then, the conference room doors swung open.

In walked Lucy, teetering on killer heels and dressed in a flashy red suit.

She wore a victor’s smile, and when her eyes landed on the onyx ring on the table, the greed was practically pouring out of them.

“Godfather, you sent for me?” Lucy’s voice was sickly sweet as she shot me a defiant look.

Henry picked up the ring and waved her over.

“Lucy, as of today, you are the new consigliere of the Corleone family. The Colombian negotiation is all yours.”

Lucy’s face lit up. She hurried forward, accepting the ring with both hands.

“Thank you, Godfather! I won’t let you down.” She stared at me, as if declaring my era was over.

“In three days, you will represent the family and meet with the Colombians.” Henry’s voice trembled with excitement. “Remember, our bottom line is a seventy-percent cut. Not a penny less.”

Lucy clutched the files, her laughter echoing. “Don’t you worry, Godfather. I’m not a coward like some people. I’ll make them sign on the dotted line.”

She gave me one last triumphant look and eagerly slid the ring, the symbol of her new power, onto her finger.

With the ring on her finger, Lucy was drunk with power and couldn't wait to rub it in my face.

“Madeline, I have to say, that ‘soft diplomacy’ crap of yours is ancient history.” She clicked over to me on her stilettos, looking down her nose at me. “This is a new era. You were always so timid, always going on about ‘family security.’ The truth is, you held the family back. Kept us from expanding. If you hadn't been dragging your feet, we would’ve taken over the neighboring blocks ages ago.”

I looked at her face, a mask of stupidity and arrogance, and had to stop myself from laughing.

Held them back?

If I hadn't been playing politics and smoothing things over with the other major players, Henry’s half-baked plans and the Corleone’s lack of muscle would have gotten them eaten alive by the old New York outfits years ago.

The only reason Lucy climbed the ladder so fast was because she was good at kissing ass and spent the last six months whispering poison in Henry’s ear, telling him I was building my own crew on the side, planning to take over.

Henry was paranoid to begin with. With Lucy feeding his fears, he saw me as more of a threat every day.

“I’ve already figured out what the Colombians like,” Lucy said, lifting her chin proudly, admiring the onyx ring on her finger. “They like hard liquor and women. All I have to do is turn on the charm, make them feel important, and they’ll happily sign a seventy-percent deal. As for you, you’re a relic.”

“Is that so?” I said, perfectly calm, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

I pulled two identical, neatly bound documents from my briefcase and placed them on the table.

“If I’m leaving, I’m going to do my part.”

“This is the transition file for the Colombian deal, two copies.” I pushed one toward Henry and one toward Lucy. “It clearly lists their bottom line, their key players, and everything you don’t do unless you want to get killed.”

Of course, I wasn't doing this to help them.

I was doing it so everyone in this room would know I had given them the roadmap to avoid disaster.

If they still managed to screw it up, it would be because they were idiots, and it would have nothing to do with me.

I wasn't giving them any ammunition to sling mud at me ever again.

Lucy didn’t even bother to open the file. She glanced at the cover with contempt and let out a haughty sniff. “Right, Madeline. Got it.”

I knew she wouldn't read it.

After all, as a mole, her job was to burn everything to the ground.

But I certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell Henry.

“Henry, sign the papers. After you sign, from this moment on, nothing that happens to the Corleone family has anything to do with Madeline.”

Henry hesitated for only a second before signing his name.

I took my copy of the document and put it back in my bag.

“Well then, Merry Christmas, everyone.” I offered a small smile and turned to leave the conference room.

But I’d only taken a single step when a cold voice stopped me.

“Wait.”

I stopped and turned around.

Henry’s face was a mask of cold suspicion.

He raised a hand and gave a slight wave.

Click.

The conference room door was locked.

“What’s the meaning of this, Henry?” I raised an eyebrow, my hand already moving toward the gun holstered at the small of my back.

He looked down on me with a smirk.

“Madeline, you worked for this family for five years. You know too much,” Henry said coldly. “Before you leave, I need to have you searched. You’re not taking a single asset that belongs to the Corleone family with you.”

A malicious, gloating grin spread across Lucy’s face.

“That’s right, Godfather! She’s leaving way too easily. Who knows if another family has already bought her out? With all the family secrets she has in that head of hers, what’s to stop her from walking out that door and selling us out to our rivals? We need to search her, down to her underwear!”

The air in the room grew thick with tension, heavy with the smell of gunpowder waiting for a spark.

Seeing the malice on their faces, I couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh.

Five years ago, the Corleone family was just another nickel-and-dime street crew, getting squeezed by the big players until they had nowhere left to run.

On a rainy night, Henry, covered in blood, knelt before me, grabbing the hem of my coat and begging me to help him.

He swore, red-eyed, that if I became his consigliere, he'd give me half of whatever empire he built.

Now, the turf was secure, the empire was built, and he was terrified I had too much power.

He’d rather trust a silver-tongued liar like Lucy, someone he could control, than the partner who’d built it all with him from scratch.

It’s always the same story with greedy men in power.

“I’ll give you my things. But if you or your goons lay a hand on me, Henry, I can burn this whole place down with you in it. And you know damn well I’m capable of it.”

I stared at him, all the old deference gone from my voice.

Henry’s expression shifted. After all these years, he knew I wasn’t bluffing.

Finally, he relented. “Fine. You hand them over yourself.”

I tossed my car keys, the keys to the family safe houses, and all of my work phones onto the table.

Under the wary eyes of his bodyguards, I walked out of the mansion I had poured five years of my life into, without a single look back.

The moment I stepped outside, the winter sun hit my face, and I felt a lightness I hadn't known in years.

For the past five years, my nerves had been shot from cleaning up Henry’s messes.

Even on holidays, I was stuck in New York, always on call, ready for the next gang war to break out.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I took a real vacation.

And now, I was free.

Using my personal account, I chartered a private jet to Sicily and booked a top-tier seaside villa.

When the plane landed and the warm sea breeze whipped through my hair, I snapped a picture of the azure coast and posted it on my private social media. The caption: “Out of the game. Enjoying the sun.”

After posting, I refreshed my feed and saw a new post from Lucy.

The photo showed her in a luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue in New York, juggling a dozen Hermès and Chanel bags, a delirious smile plastered on her face.

Her caption read: “As the new consigliere of the Corleone family, I’m so busy I don’t even have a moment to rest. But it’s all worth it for the family!”

I looked at the post and laughed out loud.

Busy with family business? Or busy burning through the last of the Corleone family’s cash?

I couldn’t be bothered. I blocked her account.

Just as I was settling onto a lounge chair at the villa, raising a glass of chilled champagne to my lips, my personal phone buzzed.

The screen showed a private, unlisted number.

I answered.

“Good afternoon, Miss Madeline,” a deep, magnetic voice, laced with authority, came through the line. “This is Lorenzo Vitiello.”

Lorenzo Vitiello. The Don of the most powerful and ancient mafia family in North America.

“Mr. Vitiello. This is a surprise,” I said, taking a sip of champagne.

“I heard you left that small-time operation of Corleone’s,” Lorenzo said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Henry is a fool. He didn’t deserve your talent. The Vitiello family has always admired your mind. The position of our new consigliere is yours, if you want it. I promise you, you will have power and status you could never have dreamed of with the Corleones. The entire North American underworld will listen when you speak.”

It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

The Vitiello family was a hundred times more powerful than the Corleones.

“It would be my honor, Mr. Vitiello,” I said after a moment’s thought. “I look forward to working with you.”

After hanging up, I enjoyed my dinner in a state of pure satisfaction.

Then, the next day, I got a call I didn’t want.

It was Henry.

“Madeline! I was just looking at the books. You skimmed fifty grand from the last smuggling run! You’re a goddamn thief!”