Chapter 5

Harper’s POV

To my surprise, the casino was... actually impressive. Just like they said it would be.

Which meant it was time to move to the next step in my plan, to find the money I had once invested into the Moretti and his business. I wanted to know exactly how they’d been using the Quinn money over the years. Where it went. What it built. Who it benefited.

And then something unexpected surfaced.

A set of photographs. Tucked inside the Moretti family safe. Photos of me. From the night I was kidnapped all those years ago.

When my investigator dug deeper, he looked… hesitant. “Miss Quinn,” he said carefully, “it appears the Moretti had ties to your kidnappers.”

My stomach dropped. “What kind of ties?” I asked, already feeling sick.

“From what we uncovered, Dante Moretti and his father paid the men who kidnapped you. Helped arrange the abduction. The photos were their proof of execution.”

I stared at him. “You’re saying… they planned it?”

He nodded grimly. “The kidnappers were instructed to send your location to Dante. Wait for his signal. Let him play the hero. The entire thing was staged. A show. A setup to make Dante look like your savior.”

My hands clenched into fists.

Even the one memory I thought was real—the one moment when I thought Dante had truly cared for me, had risked his life for me— Even that was a lie.

A performance. A whole damn play written and directed by Dante Moretti himself.

After the shock and the disgust settled, all that remained was sheer disbelief. I could’ve died during that kidnapping. If even one of those men had stepped out of line—or turned on Dante—I could’ve been killed. Or worse, humiliated beyond repair.

And Dante? Obviously, he didn’t care.

I had overestimated what he felt for me. He didn’t care about me—not even a little.

To him, I’d always been a tool. Nothing more.

…

After the investigator told me there were no traces of the Moretti finances online, I figured they were keeping their ledger hidden inside this house.

Lucky for me, they saw me as harmless. A grieving widow too shattered to pose any threat.

I could move through the house almost freely.

It didn’t take long before I found their ledger—tucked inside a safe beneath the carpet in the living room.

The password? Moretti.

Flipping through the pages, the truth hit hard and fast. The money Dante once claimed he’d used to expand a drug factory was just a lie. He funneled it into weaponry—illegal, high-grade kind. And worse—a week after Dante faked his death, those weapons disappeared. Probably being stolen by one of Moretti’s rivalry.

I sucked in a long breath, trying to steady my shaking hands.

The ledger was the perfect evidence to push Dante out now. As Ash Moretti, Dante’s grieving brother, had stepped up after Dante’s “death” and failed—spectacularly—on his very first assignment.

That failure alone was enough to prove he wasn’t fit to inherit the Don seat and run the Moretti empire.

The best part? Dante had no way to defend himself.

Because to the world, he was already dead.

All that remained was Ash—Dante’s gentle, unambitious brother. And ‘the unambitious twin’ was nowhere near qualified to be a Don.

…

I didn’t tell Father the truth—only that Ash inheriting the Don’s seat without a vote felt wrong.

“What are you planning, daughter?” Father asked. He always saw straight through me.

“I’m going to fight for the Don’s seat,” I said evenly. “But I’ll need your help, Papa.”

“Anything you need, baby.”

After a long, quiet discussion with him, I called for a meeting at the Moretti mansion.

The key Moretti family members were all here.

“My father and I have evaluated the casino project,” I began with a smile, laying a few documents neatly on the table. “We agree it’s a promising asset and a strong opportunity.”

Dante’s face lit up immediately.

“But,” I said, still smiling, “there’s one condition.”

Dante echoed, already tense. “One condition?”

"Yes,” I said lightly. “As you all know, Dante Moretti, my husband, has passed. As his wife, the Donna of the Moretti—I believe it’s only fair that we vote before handing the Don’s seat to Ash this quickly. That’s the purpose of this meeting.”

“A vote?” Dante echoed.

I kept my voice calm, almost sweet. “Yes. Ash, to be fair, you’ve never been trained to lead a mafia family. And while sorting through my husband’s things, I found this…” I angled my head slightly. “A report on a stolen shipment. I’ve heard that after you returned, you spent over a billion acquiring armory—and it was stolen under your watch, Ash?”

Color drained from his face. “That shipment was—”

“Ambushed,” I finished for him. “By a rival gang. A few of them, in fact.”

I sat up straighter. “Since Dante’s death, the balance of power has shifted. Our enemies are watching—waiting—for the moment we collapse. And with Ash at the helm, they’re already making moves.”

I turned toward the others. “We all know Ash was never raised to lead. He dropped out of his training the moment Mr. Moretti named Dante as the next Don. So I believe a vote is necessary—if we all want to have a rightful next Don to lead this family after Dante.”

Dante clenched his teeth. “Harper, what’s going on?”

I kept my tone even. “In order to protect the Moretti name and my husband’s legacy as Don, I hereby declare the vote to whether Ash take over the Don’s seat officially open. Every vote counts.”

Dante turned, already moving toward the door, gesturing for me to follow. “Harper, a word? In private?”

I rose from my seat and followed Dante out.

I didn’t make it far. Barely turned the corner before the smell hit me—sharp, chemical, nauseating. Then everything went black.

…

When I came to, it was to the sound of voices.

“What the hell, Gianna? You drugged her? I thought we were just trying to persuade her to close the vote,” Dante snapped.

“Oh, calm down. It’s just diethyl ether,” Gianna replied, casually. “She’ll wake up any minute now.”

My fingers twitched. Consciousness was returning. Good.

“But let’s be honest, I’m done playing with that dumb bitch. Let’s just kill her and get it over with,” Gianna snapped, “And better, after kill her, we claim that we get her vote. If the former Donna vote for you to continue as the Don, who else will reject?”

Dante was pacing, breath coming hard. “Absolutely not! She’s a Quinn. We can’t kill her.”

“We’ll just say she had a sudden miscarriage and her body couldn’t handle it. A severe allergic response to the medication. Whatever makes the story clean.”

“But…” Dante sounded like he was already thinking about it.

Gianna scoffed. “Dante, be honest with yourself. If this actually goes to a vote, you being Ash has almost zero chance of becoming Don. And then what? Harper takes the seat. If she gives birth to a boy, the next Don is practically guaranteed. And you—living as Ash—become irrelevant. Invisible. We’ll be bowing to someone else’s rule. Is that the life you want? Is that how far you’ve fallen—from Don Moretti to someone else’s obedient little puppy?”

Dante faltered. “But… what if her father comes after us? We’d be as good as dead. He has political connections and mafia ties on both sides.”

“I brought poison with me when you first called,” Gianna said calmly. “The kind even her father hauled her to get examined for—and still, nothing showed up. Just trust me on this.”

My fingers curled into a tight fist. After everything… Dante and Gianna were actually planning to kill me.

Dante’s voice dropped into that coaxing tone I knew too well. “Let me talk to her first, alright? I can get through to her. The best outcome would be to convince her to vote for me to be the Don. If that doesn’t work…Then we’ll go with your plan.”

The voices faded.

A moment later, the door creaked open.

“Harper, are you awake yet?”

I shifted, barely, and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “Where am I…”

“You passed out,” Dante said, his voice low and coaxing. “I brought you back to your room.”

How convenient of him to leave out the part where his beloved wife drugged me and tried to kill me.

“Did everyone vote yet?” I asked.

Dante dragged a chair closer to the bed. “Harper, will you vote for me? I’m just as capable as Dante—better, even. I have real potential. And I promise this: once I’m elected Don, you’ll remain the Donna of the Moretti. Every right, every privilege—you’ll keep them all.”

“Why…” I murmured.

He leaned in. “What did you say?”

“Why do you think you’re worthy of the title of Don?”

A flicker of frustration crossed his eyes—he tried to hide it, but I saw it.

“I will prove it to you,” he said tightly. Then, softening again, “Why don’t you rest for now? I’ll tell the others your vote is for me as Don. That’s all.”

Then Dante opened the door and left.

The moment the latch clicked shut, I forced my trembling hand toward my necklace. I’d installed a tiny pin device inside it—just in case the Moretti, or more specifically Dante and Gianna, decided not to let me walk away after today’s vote.

I never actually thought I’d need it. I guess I never thought the Moretti would sink this low.

But here we were.

I pressed the pin down with all the strength I could gather. A signal shot to my phone—the automated message I’d drafted before today would be delivered straight to my father.

Papa, I need you at the old Moretti mansion now.

…

After what felt like forever, I heard the low, familiar growl of my father’s car pulling up outside the mansion.

Minutes later, the bedroom door creaked open.

A maid walked in, “Mrs. Moretti, your father’s here. He’s waiting for you in the living room.”

She came over to help me out of bed. The ether still made my legs feel like they were wrapped in sandbags, but I forced myself upright.

When I went downstairs, I found everyone seated quietly in the study. Gianna cast a hateful glance my way then lowered her head as well.

“Harper,” my father called, motioning me closer. “You told me to come for the vote today, but they said you were… taking a nap just then and the vote is already over?”

“Is that so?” I looked at Gianna, and she flinched instantly.

Telling my father what they’d done would’ve been far too merciful. And I wasn’t feeling merciful.

I turned, letting my eyes sweep over Dante before settling on the nearest guard. “How many votes for Ash to take the Don’s seat so far?”

“Only five, Donna,” the guard replied. “The remaining twenty members haven’t voted yet.”

“Alright,” I said, straightening. “Since Ash’s vote seems unlikely to end anytime soon… why don’t we change what we’re voting on?”

A ripple of whispers broke out across the hall.

“We will now vote,” I announced, voice crisp, “on whether the current Donna, Harper Quinn, is fit to inherit her late husband Don Dante’s seat.”

I ended with a slow smile—directed straight at Gianna and Dante.

Let the real show begin.