Chapter 3

Before I could look away, Corleone glanced at his watch, murmured something to his business partners, and stood to leave.

Before going, he turned to Bianca beside him, leaned in, and whispered something in her ear.

The light fell on Bianca's face as she wore a coy, delighted smile.

Several of the surrounding power players caught the intimate display. Eyebrows rose.

A moment later, as if she'd planned it all along, Bianca's gaze shifted and locked straight onto mine.

Without a hint of evasion, she picked up her glass and walked right over.

"Tella, so you're here too."

I looked down at her, my expression cool.

"I'm the Donna. Of course I'm at an event like this."

I fixed my gaze on her.

"The real question is, how did you get in?"

Entry to a top-tier Mafia gala was strictly controlled. Every guest needed a personal invitation, and those were only issued to senior business leaders and key partners.

Bianca held no business title and wasn't an official partner. She had no right to be here.

Her smile widened, open provocation.

She reached into her clutch and pulled out a gilded black card with an intricate design. Corleone's personal invitation pass.

"I came through perfectly proper channels."

She waved the black card, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"As the Don's personal guest. Or, if you prefer, family."

My heart dropped.

Every gala, the Don kept one personal invitation reserved for an especially important last-minute guest.

In ten years, Corleone had never once used it.

Until now. For Bianca, he had broken a rule he'd held for a decade.

Nearby, several of the Elders exchanged stunned glances.

Bianca noticed my darkening expression and widened her eyes in mock surprise.

"Oh, Donatella, you didn't wear the diamond earrings? I picked them out especially for you."

Tonight I wore only a simple pair of pearl-drop earrings on plain hoops, understated and elegant.

They were the first gift Corleone ever gave me. Nothing extravagant, but he had saved up for them himself when he had nothing. They were his pledge of love, and they had been with me through ten years of storms.

Bianca tilted her head.

"Those look like something from ten years ago. No matter how pretty they are, they're out of style."

"When Corleone bought this emerald necklace for me, there were three free gifts to choose from. Those earrings are all diamond chips, flashy and cheap. They suited you perfectly, so I set them aside for you."

Several Elders standing nearby muttered their displeasure.

"How could the Don bring an outsider in here and let her disrespect the Donna like this? What happened to Family rules?"

"A mistress showing her face at an event like this? If we let this slide, anyone could walk in next time. The Don is making a mockery of our traditions!"

Their voices were low, buried under the hum of the gala, but every word reached me.

I forced down the fury building in my chest, kept my composure as Donna, and let out a cold laugh.

"You're nothing but a dirty little secret. And you have the nerve to flaunt yourself in front of me? Don't test me. I can have you thrown out right now."

My threat didn't faze her. She stepped closer, leaned toward my ear, and dropped her voice.

"Donatella, get off your high horse."

"Corleone and I knew each other first, ten years ago. He didn't choose me back then only because he thought I was too young, too naive. He didn't want me to suffer alongside him."

"He picked you not because he loved you, but because he needed your ambition and your ruthlessness. You were his sharpest, most obedient blade, nothing more. A tool to secure his throne."

She lifted her chin, eyes blazing with arrogance.

"Things are different now. He's been sitting comfortably at the top for years. He doesn't need his blade anymore."

"And I'm back. It's time you returned what belongs to me. Be smart about it and step down as Donna on your own."

Fury surged through my chest. I curled my fingers tight and was about to fire back.

But Bianca's expression shifted.

My personal lieutenant, who had been at my side for years, sensed something wrong and moved to intervene.

But two of the temporary security guards at the venue had already been bribed by Bianca. They stepped in and blocked my people.

That one-second delay was all it took.

Bianca flung her entire glass of red wine down the front of her white gown, then let her body go limp and collapsed onto the cold floor.

Wine drenched her hair and soaked the hem of her dress. She looked a complete mess.

I froze. I hadn't expected this.

But ten years as Donna had trained me to stay composed under pressure.

I recovered instantly and signaled the bodyguards on standby.

"Get this lunatic out of here."

Two bodyguards moved in immediately, seizing her by the arms.

The same Bianca who had been so defiant moments ago suddenly went limp, offering no resistance, letting them do as they pleased.

Unease crept through me.

A second later, a tall dark figure came charging in and kicked one of the bodyguards square in the chest.

"How dare you!"

The sharp command echoed through the ballroom. The entire room went silent.

Corleone had returned at some point, his face black with rage.

He didn't spare me a single glance. His eyes were locked on Bianca on the ground as he strode forward.

In one swift motion, he pulled her to her feet with one hand.

Bianca leaned into his chest, her voice choked and fragile.

"Don't blame her. I said too much and upset her, so she... It's just a shame about the gown you prepared for me..."

Her dress still dripped steadily. Her eyes were rimmed red. She looked impossibly pitiful.

Corleone's fingers brushed the damp ends of her hair.

After a long silence, he finally turned to look at me.

Those eyes that had always been warm and indulgent toward me were now filled with a coldness I didn't recognize.

Without a word, he bent down, scooped her up, and walked away.

His back retreated into the distance. Dozens of probing stares bore into me from every direction.

I stood rooted in place, spine straight, forcing myself to hold onto the last shred of the Donna's dignity and composure.

But the hands hanging at my sides trembled beyond my control.

Ten years of standing side by side couldn't compete with a teenage crush.

It had been a con from the very start, and I was the only mark.

But that was fine. I would be leaving soon enough.