My best friend breaks down and accuses me of skimming family shipments, which cost us billions.

Without hesitation, my fiance, Don Scarpa Falcone, points a gun at me. The bullet grazes my ear.

He sends me to prison himself, then gets engaged to my best friend instead.

Before I'm taken away, the family butler begs him, "You raised her yourself. She's your fiancee. You can't just ruin her life like this!"

"Break the rules, and pay in blood," he says, polishing his gun. "As for her future, I'll decide that later."

Five years later, I walk out of prison.

The entire Falcone family is waiting at the gate with him, as if my freedom were a handout.

"Looks like you've learned your lesson. It's time to return and get back to work. Don't do anything stupid again," he says.

I ignore him and walk straight to the stretch Lincoln behind him.

The door opens. Chris Corleone, the king of the Aurelian underworld, raises his glass to me. "Welcome back, partner."

"You're late," Chris Corleone said.

He smiled at me from inside the car. "Congratulations on getting out of jail, partner."

Behind me was my former fiance, Scarpa Falcone. His face darkened. He stared at me in disbelief, then at the glaring stretch Lincoln.

"Viviana, you'd better explain yourself."

His voice carried his usual arrogance. He sounded like he was throwing a tantrum. "Who the hell is he?"

I didn't turn around, opting only to curve my lips at Chris. "There was some traffic. It cost me a few minutes."

Chris didn't mind. He stepped out of the car and opened the door for me. His movements were gentlemanly, but detached.

"I've waited for five years," he said lightly. "A few minutes won't kill me."

The familiarity and intimacy in his voice hit Scarpa's heart like a needle.

Scarpa lunged forward and grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip. "Viviana! I'm talking to you! Where did you meet this shady person? Get back to the estate. Don't forget who you are."

I finally turned to look at him. My gaze was flat like still water.

Then, in a voice just loud enough for all of his Soldatos to hear, I slowly asked, "Mr. Falcone, do we know each other?"

His pupils shrank. The hand on my wrist loosened. "Why…"

I easily slipped free from his grip and smoothed the wrinkles from my sleeve. It was the same motion he had used to clean his gun five years ago.

"Oh, I remember now," I scoffed. "You're the legendary Don who sent his adopted daughter and fiancee to federal prison just to marry her best friend."

Silence.

The air drained out of the street. His men held their breath.

Scarpa had never imagined that the woman who once obeyed his every word and loved him to the bone would speak to him like this.

"You'll regret this, Viviana," he warned through clenched teeth. "Without a famiglia, you're nothing."

I laughed as I settled into the leather seat.

Chris got into the driver's seat. The engine purred, and the car rolled forward smoothly.

Through the rearview mirror, I watched as Scarpa's flashy Porsche shrank into a distant black dot.

Chris handed me a cup of warm water. "Does your hand hurt?"

I shook my head as I watched the city blur past the window.

"No. Just feels like the air out here is dirtier than I remember."

Chris chuckled but said nothing else. He knew my war had only just begun.

The Falcone famiglia had risen with me by Scarpa's side. I brought it up from the three streets in Balvan to the negotiation tables of Macarius.

Before prison, I was the family's Consigliere. I handled every dirty ledger and smuggling route.

After prison, all of it fell to my so-called best friend, Elisa Bianchi.

She was a fool who couldn't even tally protection money right.

I closed my eyes.

Scarpa. Elisa.

I'm back.

The Corleone famiglia controlled more than half of the East Coast ports and shipping lines.

My new office was on the top floor. It had a glass wall overlooking the glittering skyline of the Henricossa River.

"This is your battlefield," Chris said behind me in a steady voice. "Your enemies are the Corleone famiglia's enemies now."

I stared out the window.

In the distance, the faint outline of the Falcone tower loomed.

My first meeting with Chris felt like a dark joke.

It was my third year in jail. I was on the prison factory floor.

I was staring at the newspaper, lost in Falcone's midyear financials, when a voice sounded above my head.

"Leverage is too high. If I were you, I'd dump the two strip clubs and cash out immediately."

I looked up to see a man in a tailored suit.

He didn't look like an inmate. In fact, he looked like he'd walked in from a boardroom.

I learned later on that he was indeed here for a "meeting".

He was the heir to the Corleone famiglia, and he was there to "talk business" with the warden.

It was absurd.

From that day on, he became a regular.

We talked about finance, trade, and even human nature.

He was like an arms dealer, polishing my rusted claws piece by piece.

Before I got out of jail, he handed me a contract. He wanted me to be the Corleone famiglia's chief Consigliere.

"I don't do charity," he said. "I'm investing in your future. I want you to take back everything that was taken from you and help me erase the Falcones from Nelcaro."

…

A knock on the door snapped me back to the present.

My secretary's voice was tight when she told me Scarpa had arrived, unannounced. He was waving a gun.

I lifted my chin. "Send him up."

Five minutes later, Scarpa kicked the door open. His eyes were bloodshot.

He slammed a stack of bloodstained ledgers onto my desk.

"What did you do, Viviana?" he snapped. "Three of my smuggling routes were wiped out last night. It was you, wasn't it?"

I calmly leaned back in my chair. "Business is business, Don Falcone. The Corleones wanted your ports. That's just how it is."

"Drop the act! Do you think I'm an idiot? You're Chris's woman now, aren't you?" he said after letting out a sharp laugh.

He stepped closer. A familiar mix of control and rage burned in his eyes. "Is all this just to get back at me? By sleeping with another man? You disappoint me."

"You're disappointed?" I stood up and closed the distance. "Scarpa, when you sent me to prison five years ago, did it ever occur to you that I might be disappointed in you, too?"

He faltered, then snapped back in rage. "You broke the rules! You skimmed product and cost us billions! You never repented, and now you're blaming me?"

He seized my shoulders and shook me. "Come back with me. I'll pretend none of this happened. You'll still have a place in the Famiglia—"

"A place?" I cut him off cold. "In your garden, like one of your obedient Dobermans? I didn't survive five years in prison just to come back as your dog.

"As for whose woman I am now—"

I leaned in. My voice was razor-clear against his ear. "I'm the Corleone famiglia's Consigliere. I'm also your future undertaker."

Scarpa's fury boiled over. He raised his hand to hit me.

But this time, someone caught his wrist.

Chris had appeared at the doorway at some point. He had a cigar clamped between his fingers.

"Trying to lay a hand on my famiglia in my territory?" he began, slowly exhaling a puff of smoke. "Mr. Falcone, you must have a death wish."

Scarpa's eyes widened. He knew exactly who Chris was. "Chris, this is a private matter."

"A private matter?"

Chris shoved his hand away and shielded me. "She bears the Corleone name now. What does your famiglia have to do with her?"

Scarpa's face went white. "You'd go to war with the Falcones over this woman?'

Chris laughed. He was looking at a lamb ready for slaughter.

"You flatter yourself. This isn't a war. I'm going to kill you."

After Scarpa stormed off, it didn't take long for Elisa's call to come through.

She wanted to meet up at the old Igniterrian bar we used to frequent.

I agreed.

Some debts needed settling.

When I arrived, Elisa was in the far booth. She was in the latest Chanel suit. A diamond the size of a pigeon's egg glittered on her finger.

She elegantly swirled her cocktail. Her smugness was barely concealed in her eyes.

"Viviana, it's been five years. You look… worn down."

Her gaze lingered on my hands. "Those hands used to play the piano. I suppose they're more suited to scrubbing floors now."

I said nothing and let her performance play out.

"Honestly, I'm here to apologize," she said, setting her glass down with feigned guilt. "What happened back then was my fault. I shouldn't have fallen for Scarpa. But we can't control our feelings. Don't worry, Scarpa said he'll make it up to you. The two streets in Nelcaro are yours. It's enough to live out your days."

She looked at me expectantly. She was waiting for gratitude.

I laughed. "Elisa, do you know what you look like right now?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You look like a hunting dog that stole its master's steak, then came wagging its tail with a bone like nothing happened."

Her face hardened. "Do you really think Chris wants you? You're just a whore he's using to fight Scarpa! You're just a snitch turned ex-convict. Do you really think you can compete with me?"

She shot to her feet, heaving.

I lifted my glass of iced water and took a sip. "A whore, huh? You'll learn who the real whore is soon, Elisa. Enjoy that ring. Soon, it'll be nothing but stone."

I set down the glass and walked out.

Behind me, Elisa screamed, "Come back! Say that again!"

I didn't look back.

Did you hear the sound of a bullet chambering, Elisa?

The game had begun.

…

Elisa's taunt lit the fuse. That night, Scarpa cornered me in the parking lot.

"What did you say to Elisa?" he demanded. "She came home crying and said you threatened her."

Leaning against my car, I laughed. "Don Falcone, are you here to judge me, or just to defend your wife?"

His face twisted. "You've changed, Viviana."

"The girl who obeyed your every word?" I sneered. "She died in federal prison five years ago."

"What do you want? Is it money? Territory? The estate? Anything for you to leave Chris and come back to me!"

"Back to you?"

I laughed like I had heard the world's funniest joke. "And what? Count your blood-stained cash while you and Elisa dance in the garden? Scarpa, do you really think everyone's as stupid as you are?"

He grabbed my wrist and screamed, "Chris is using you! Once you're drained dry, he'll throw you back onto the streets! Are you really going to debase yourself as another man's plaything just to spite me?"

A loud slap echoed in the parking lot.

I broke free from his grasp and slapped him across his face.

Scarpa clutched his cheek. He was stunned, as if he couldn't believe I had struck him.

"You want to know what I really want? Fine. I'll tell you."

I stepped closer, my voice brushing his ear.

"I was the one who moved the shipment that vanished at the docks five years ago."

He froze.

"Then, I left a trail so the Feds would chase shadows."

The blood drained from his face, leaving him corpse-white. "W-What do you mean?"

"That shipment was a trap, Scarpa. Chris and the Feds staged it. If it had landed and we'd taken it, the whole famiglia would've been wiped out."

I straightened up, savoring his breakdown. "I saw it coming, but I couldn't stop you. So, I traded five years of freedom for the Falcone famiglia's survival.

"And you?" I jabbed a finger at him. "You doubted me, shot me, and sent me to prison. Then, you married my best friend."

My voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me, Scarpa. Who's the real traitor?"