Daughter of the Don: Not a Girl To Cross

"Are you sure about this, Nancy? Marrying that powerful man means ending things with Tad."

"I'm sure. But not yet. Don't tell anyone. Especially not Celia."

Celia — the girl I once begged my father to adopt, the one I defended and called sister — betrayed me.

The two men who used to treat me like their world — my boyfriend Tad and our family friend Leo — now orbit around her like moths to a flame.

I thought I saved her, but she only wanted to replace me.

When Celia fell, they blamed me. When she got shot, they blamed me again. When I was in a car crash, they said it was an excuse to avoid "taking care of Celia."

But I am Don DeLuca's daughter.

And no one treats me this way and walks away unscathed.

My boyfriend? He can go to hell.

My so-called friends? They can rot with him.

...

"It's me."

I leaned against the cold stone wall outside the villa and spoke softly into the satellite phone.

The deafening music outside almost lifted the villa's roof, mixed with roaring engines and the faint sound of guns being loaded.

"About what Father said years ago…" My voice was almost drowned out. "Tell him — I agree."

There was a brief silence on the other end, then my mother's calm voice came through:

"Are you sure about this, Nancy? Marrying that powerful man means ending things with Tad."

"I'm sure, but not yet," I said hoarsely. "Don't tell anyone. Especially not Celia."

If you mess with Don DeLuca's daughter, you're finished.

After saying that, I hung up. The heavy encrypted phone slipped from my hand and sank silently into the expensive silk sheets.

At that moment, the noise outside flooded back into my senses — not just the music, but men's rough laughter, the sound of leather rubbing, and the crisp clinking of glasses.

Tonight was Celia's birthday.

The girl I once begged my father to adopt, the one I defended and called "sister."

Now, she was in Tad's arms —

the woman I once trusted, and now the snake I wanted to strangle.

Back then, the four of us — me, Celia, and the brothers Tad and Leo, who were raised by the family — were supposed to be a solid alliance, like family.

At that time, I thought I was doing the right thing.

I thought protecting her would make her more loyal to the family.

I thought we could always sit together at the family banquets, sharing Sicilian wine and secrets.

I never imagined that the seemingly gentle girl was skilled in another kind of infiltration and betrayal.

Celia had always been clever.

She knew how to slip into every corner — the family's social circle, and the men's hearts.

She liked to follow us around. At first, I didn't care. But later, she started trying to replace me.

She whispered to Tad while I was handling family affairs; she could make the always-cold Leo smile.

I still told myself not to overthink — the family needed unity.

Until that day — when I saw that kiss.

It was supposed to be a secret night in the family winery's underground cellar.

Just Tad and me. After checking the new "goods," we shared our feelings and finally crossed that line.

Then, in the hallway filled with the scent of oak and alcohol, I saw him and Celia kissing in the shadows.

I chose silence — for the family's stability.

But it happened again. And again.

Every time I questioned him, Tad brushed it off, smelling of another woman's perfume.

"You're too sensitive, Nancy," he said, his finger brushing the gun holster at his waist. "She needs protection, just like before. Don't act like a jealous little girl."

Leo was the same. Cleaning his custom Beretta, he didn't even look up.

"Don't let unnecessary suspicion destroy years of trust, Nancy. It's bad for the family."

But it wasn't suspicion.

It was — naked betrayal, a blade in the back that didn't draw blood.

And now, I sat alone at the grand birthday party held for her, watching the three of them — laughing, drinking, like the leads in some ridiculous Mafia love story.

Tad downed a glass of tequila, smiled, pressed the empty glass to Celia's lips, and his other hand brushed her waist — intimate, secretive.

I could barely breathe, my chest tight with pain.

I stood up, quietly walked through the crowd, up the carpeted stairs, and returned to the guest room assigned to me.

I pulled the soft wool blanket over my head, trying to block everything out — but the door was pushed open without knocking.

In this house, few bothered with manners toward me anymore.

"Nancy?"

Celia's voice was like a knife wrapped in sugar. "They're looking for you downstairs. The fireworks are about to start. You're not really going to hide here, are you?"

I didn't move, my body stiff under the blanket. "I'm tired. I want to sleep. Go by yourself."

"Don't be like that…" She came closer, the sound of her heels sharp on the floor. "It's my birthday. Do you really want to ruin the mood?"

I turned my head, whispering in the dim light, "Celia, isn't it enough that I'm forced to watch your show?"

Her carefully drawn brows knitted.

"Do you really hate me that much? Is it because you think I took Tad and Leo's attention? I didn't mean to. We used to be like sisters, sharing everything—"

"Shut up." I cut her off. The metal buckle on my sleeve flashed coldly under the light. "Go enjoy your damn party — with your fake tears."

But she didn't leave.

Instead, she suddenly grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin, pulling hard.

"Come on, the fireworks will be amazing. When I'm with you, everything feels real—"

"Don't touch me!"

I tried to pull away, but her grip was unexpectedly strong, trained.

In the struggle, we both lost balance and fell — Celia's shoulder hit the edge of the hardwood table.

The expensive porcelain vase toppled and shattered, sharp fragments flying, cutting into our arms and shoulders.

The pain spread instantly, but before I could react, the door was pushed open again — roughly.

It was my boyfriend, Tad, in a perfectly pressed black suit.

He didn't run to me —

he ran to her, kneeling beside her.

"Are you okay? Celia, what happened?!" He checked her wounds, brushing glass from her fair skin with gentle fingers, not like a man who carried a gun.

"She pushed me…" Celia began to sob, tears falling like pearls. "I didn't mean to… I just wanted her to be happy… she just—"

"What's wrong with you, Nancy?!"

Tad roared, his eyes sharp as knives. "You're ruining everything again!"

I froze, staring at the blood running down my arm, drop by drop staining the light-colored carpet.

"She started it!" My voice trembled. "She grabbed me and wouldn't let go—"

But he didn't listen.

Neither did Leo.

He came in right after, tall, blocking the doorway, frowning, his voice cold and impatient.

"You're always like this, Nancy. Jealous. Dramatic. You can't stand anyone being more popular than you."

In the end, they made me apologize.

Even though my sleeve was soaked with blood, sticking to my skin, they still said I ruined her birthday and disrupted the harmony of the party.

Leo grabbed my uninjured arm hard enough to bruise. "Come on. Go downstairs. Stop embarrassing the family."

So I went.

With bruises, bleeding wounds, and burning humiliation —

I stood under the fireworks that symbolized the DeLuca family's power, watching them smile and dance, Celia twirling like a princess between them.

And I thought —

Just one last time.

One last time, I'll try to fit into this swamp that no longer has room for me.

I forced a smile, like wearing a stiff mask, and walked into the noisy crowd around the bonfire. The crackling fire lit up the drunken faces of men and women.

The music was deafening, the crowd wild under the intoxication of alcohol and power.

I swayed, dizzy from blood loss and coldness —

then, a strong push hit me from behind.

Tad pushed me?

Why? For Celia? To punish my "disobedience"?

I stumbled, lost balance completely, and fell toward the burning bonfire —

the flames licked my exposed arm and shirt, pain stabbing into my nerves like red-hot needles.

I screamed.

Another scream overlapped mine — Celia's.

She ran forward, panic on her face, shouting through the noise, "Oh my god! Nancy's burned! Call a doctor — she's hurt—"

But Tad stopped her, shielding her behind him, shaking his head. His voice was calm and cruel.

"It's fine. Just a small burn. She can handle it. Consider it the price for what she did to you."

And Leo?

He didn't even look at me. His attention was all on Celia and the glass in his hand.

No one helped. The family members and guests around just watched coldly, or with curiosity.

I crawled away from the fire, the smell of burned flesh filling my nose. I staggered to the roadside and stopped a passing taxi.

No one sent me to the hospital.

No one cared if I was still bleeding, or if I'd get infected.

But it didn't matter…

The pain from the flames, like purgatory fire, burned away the old, naive Nancy.

This would be the last time they ever hurt me.