A Crown Made of Scars

In the Deluca family's grand hall, the tension was palpable, only pierced by the occasional snap and pop from the fireplace.

I had just planted my stiletto heel into Rosa Deluca's chest, with the sharp point driving into her like a nail into wood.

She did not even have a chance to scream before she stumbled backward, shattering the expensive crystal coffee table behind her.

The glass shattered, slashing across her once-prized face.

Marco Conti stormed in just in time to witness the aftermath.

His eyes were wild with fury as he whipped out his Beretta and pointed it straight at me.

"Elena! You've got a death wish!"

My parents were right on his heels, taking in the wreckage and their injured foster daughter.

My father, Dante Deluca, was shaking with rage. "This is outrageous! Grab this monster!"

The bodyguards started to close in, but I gave them a chilling look and a mocking smile.

"Go ahead, make your move. We might just all end up dead."

I smoothed out my black dress and pulled a silver switchblade from my thigh holster, flipping it around with a practiced ease.

"If I'm not back with the Romanos by dawn tomorrow, they'll send a hit squad to wipe out the Deluca family."

Rosa was sobbing pitifully, cradled by the family, and I could not help but feel disgusted.

With a casual toss, I sent the knife skimming past Rosa, silencing her sobs.

"I wondered if my dear old dad would rather offer up Rosa or just let everything burn."

Dante's hand, which had been raised in anger, hung frozen in the air. I ignored it and strode over to the long wooden table with grace, slamming down the "Severance Agreement" I had prepared with a satisfying thud.

"If you're going to throw me to the wolves, you better make it worth my while. 50 million dollars. The moment that contract is signed and the cash hits my offshore account, I'm in with the Romanos tonight."

Dante was seething, but he had to keep it under wraps.

He never saw it coming. The girl who had always been so meek, the one who clawed her way up from the slums, the real deal heiress, was showing her true colors then, all teeth and claws.

"50 million? In your dreams! Who do you think you are?"

"Dreams are optional." I whipped out my phone, the screen showing a ticking countdown to send.

"This is Rosa's health report. It says her kidneys are in perfect health, and that the whole sick act was just a con to snag my kidney.

"And here's the dirt on your family, too: five years of smuggling, tax dodging, and skimming off the top, all behind the mafia Commission's back. The email is ready to be sent to the Commission."

My finger was poised over the send button, my grin both bright and brutal.

"So, will the Deluca go bust and get wiped out, or will you cough up 50 million for a clean slate? Your call."

Silence. Total, heavy silence.

The only sounds were Rosa's muffled sobs and Marco's labored breathing.

Dante's expression changed from one of fury to horror, then disbelief.

He stared at me like I was some stranger.

Three minutes ticked by.

The ping from Swisswell Bank cut through the quiet like a knife.

[Your account has been credited with 50,000,000 USD.]

I signed my name with a flourish, then tossed the contract onto Marco's shocked mug.

"A bad girl and her lackey, bound for eternity. May your wedding tomorrow be as cheery as a wake."