Chapter 7

Seraphina's POV

Helicopter blades sliced through the cold New York air.

I clutched my coat, my heels clicking on the helipad of the Ricci estate.

The wound on my stomach screamed in protest. I didn't slow down. I wouldn't show weakness.

My brother, Alessio, the Godfather of the Ricci family, was waiting.

He crushed his cigar and pulled me into his arms.

“You suffered,” Alessio said, his voice tight with rage.

The wind whipped the hem of my coat, revealing the blood-soaked gauze under my hospital gown. The scar from where they’d cut my child out of me, before leaving me for dead in the fire.

Alessio’s eyes went dark.

His thumb brushed my pale cheek. Raw murder flashed in the Godfather’s eyes.

“Maxim, that piece of shit,” he said, his voice like ice. “I’ll go to Chicago myself. I’ll break every bone in his body.”

I pushed him away.

“No.” I met his gaze. “I’ll handle him.”

I turned and walked toward the main house.

The doors opened before me.

The Ricci family’s top capos were lined up, waiting. They all bowed their heads.

I ignored them. I walked straight to the long table in the center of the hall.

I pulled a file from my bag and threw it on the table.

“A list of every front, racket, and dirty account belonging to the Volkovs and Bellinis,” my voice echoed, cold and absolute.

Alessio came in behind me.

He picked up the list. Surprise flickered in his eyes.

My dowry. The secrets I’d gathered in three years as the Volkov Donna.

“I want them to pay,” I said, pointing to the Chicago port on the map.

“First, we cut off Maxim’s precious smuggling lines. I want him to watch his empire rot from the inside out.”

A cruel smile touched Alessio’s lips.

He turned to his consigliere, Matteo.

“Put a hit out on the Bellinis. Burn every front they own to the ground within twelve hours.”

“Yes, Godfather.” Matteo bowed and left.

Alessio looked at me. The anger in his eyes was replaced by fierce pride.

“Now that’s a Ricci,” he said, pushing open a door behind the table. “A welcome home gift.”

I walked through.

The room was dark, lit by a single, harsh overhead lamp.

The nurse from the Chicago hospital—the one who’d pulled out my IV—was tied to a chair, shaking uncontrollably.

Her eyes widened in terror when she saw me.

“You… what are you doing here?” she stammered, then realization dawned.

“Donna… no, Miss! Please, let me go!” she begged, sobbing. “It was Isla! She paid me! She told me to torture you! I don’t want to die!”

I walked up to her, looking down at her disgusting face.

I thought playing by the rules kept me safe.

I thought mercy bought loyalty.

That naivety got my child killed. It got my best friend killed.

I have no weaknesses now.

Alessio came to my side. He handed me a loaded Beretta.

I took the cold steel.

My hand was perfectly steady.

“I warned you,” I said, my voice calm as I looked at her tear-streaked face. “I said you would regret it.”

I slowly raised my arm, aiming the barrel between her eyes.

The nurse screamed and squeezed her eyes shut. A puddle of piss spread beneath her.

I pulled the trigger without a second thought.

The deafening shot shattered the silence.

The bullet grazed her right ear, taking a piece of flesh with it before burying itself in the wall behind her.

Blood streamed down her face.

She passed out before she could scream again.

I stared at her cold-eyed.

I felt no fear.

Just the thrill of burying the past.

The Seraphina who begged outside the delivery room died on that operating table.

I looked up, my red lips parting. “Tell Chicago the Ricci heir is back. And anyone who helps the Volkovs is my enemy.”