Don't Betray the Mafia Princess

Late at night, with Jonathan sound asleep beside me, I slipped out of bed and took my phone into the private bathroom.

The screen lit up. My best friend Sheila had sent a string of encrypted files and screenshots.

Sheila: [Victoria, I found her. The woman's name is Sienna Vance. She's a dancer at Jonathan's casino. Four months pregnant.]

Then came the bills.

Luxury cars. Designer watches. And a beachfront mansion in Malibu.

Over two million dollars in total.

That wasn't all. Next came screenshots of Sienna's social media.

The first was an ultrasound, captioned:

"My little miracle. Daddy's coming with me to the checkup in four days."

The second was a selfie of Sienna wearing a diamond necklace. The exact one I'd told Jonathan I loved a month ago. He bought it for someone else.

My eyes stopped on the third photo.

Sienna in a barely-there lace nightgown, stroking her slightly rounded belly, giggling as she lounged on a luxurious leather sofa.

Caption:

"I know. Sooner or later, you'll be mine."

That sofa was the anniversary gift Jonathan had ordered from Italy for me last month.

Was she talking about the sofa or the man? Probably both.

Sheila's message popped up again:

[This is too much, Victoria. Want me to take a crew over right now and catch Jonathan and that bitch in bed? We could chop them up on the spot.]

I gripped my phone and took a deep breath. Then I replied:

[No. Killing him outright is too easy. I want him to taste what it's like to fall from heaven straight into hell.]

I closed the encrypted app and dialed the family's private line.

Uncle Luca picked up.

"Miss? What can I do for you at this hour?"

I got straight to the point.

"Uncle Luca, Jonathan betrayed me. He betrayed the Carpentier family. I need a full reckoning."

There was the sound of a lighter sparking against a cigar on the other end. Then my father's calm, commanding voice took over.

"Victoria. I'll ask you for the whole story after it's done. For now, tell me what you need."

I stood in front of the mirror, staring into my own eyes, and said:

"Make the traitor pay."

My father let out a low chuckle.

"Understood, sweetheart. Get some sleep. Daddy will take care of him for you."

I hung up and walked back to the living room, stopping in front of the steel safe hidden behind the oil painting in the corner of the study. Only Jonathan and I knew the code.

I calmly entered it. Beep. The safe clicked open.

Inside lay all the ledgers from Jonathan's underground dealings, the list of firearms kickbacks, and hard evidence of the assets he'd secretly been moving.

I pulled out my phone and photographed every page.

I'm a mafia daughter. I won't just cry and run to my father.

When it counts, I'm crueler than he is.

Jonathan, the game's started.