He Thought He Could Take My Place

My mother was the Donna of the Romano family, and I was her only daughter.

After I was born, the woman who usually kept a low profile handwrote invitations to every prominent family in New York.

The next day, she formally placed the Romano family seal in my hands while I was still a baby.

I was too young to use it, so she chose Angelo from a distant branch of the family and brought him in to assist me.

He was only three years older than me, but he already knew how to handle family business.

One glance at a dense page of accounts, and he could remember every figure.

By twelve, he was going with our steward to negotiate with the heads of other families.

By fifteen, he managed more than a hundred people on his own.

Mother said that with Angelo around, the weight of the family wouldn't have to bend my little shoulders.

While I put on a dress for a ball, he shook hands with Dons in the room next door.

While I sat with my friends over tea, he worked through papers at a nearby table.

Mother had set one rule.

Every family appointment lasted a year. It expired the day before Family Day and could be renewed only when Donna applied the seal.

Angelo was still young then.

Mother merely smiled and told him:

"Just sit with Vittoria while she stamps the papers each year. My girl deserves to be happy every day."

So for twelve years, Angelo brought me the family ledger every Family Day.

His work was always impeccable. I never found a problem.

I read it quickly and pressed the family seal onto his appointment.

He thought I'd barely looked. "At least take your time," he teased. "You ought to know what happened this year and how much we made."

As the years passed, outsiders came to know Angelo's name and little else.

After Mother died, Angelo and I made the family decisions together until I came of age.

New York's family heads treated him with respect, and every problem in our businesses was reported to him first.

I took that as praise for his work. He'd never tried to overstep with me.

Then, last spring, Angelo told me he wanted to marry Layla, Don Gallo's eldest daughter.

Her family refused. To them, he was only a distant Romano relative who worked for us.

For the first time, Angelo came to me for help.

I'd just left a ball. After hearing him out, I asked one thing.

"Do you really love her?"

He nodded. I went to the Gallos myself and brought deeds to three Romano properties.

They agreed that same day.

To welcome Layla, I also gave her three little seaside villas from my own holdings, privately.

After that, she treated me even better.

She came to parties with me, picked out jewelry for me, and once brought over the flower pastries from West Street just because she'd heard me mention them.

The night before the wedding, she took my hands and smiled.

"Vittoria, Angelo will be busy, but I'll be here for you."

"We're going to be family."

I nodded, delighted.

On the wedding day, I chose a box of amethysts from my private collection for her.

The next morning, I brought a pair of diamond studs to her new room.

Angelo was at the council hall. Layla was alone.

She smiled as usual and pulled me down beside her.

But as soon as the door closed, she slowly let go of my hand.

She wiped the fingers that had touched me with her handkerchief. Her smile faded.

"Vittoria."

"You didn't actually think I fussed over you because I liked you, did you?"