Chapter 4

"What do we need to do next?"

"We need four things to counterattack." Leo held up four fingers. "First, organize every bank transfer. Second, find people in the family who knew you were supporting Anna all these years. We need them to testify at the hearing."

He paused, tapping his finger on the desk. "Third, pull every text and voicemail you have with her. Especially anything that proves she lied to get money, exaggerated her situation, or promised to 'pay it back'. And fourth, the most important part: we need to rip off her 'poor, exiled girl' mask."

The word "lied" made me think of something from last year.

Last October, Anna had blown up my phone, claiming she'd found a promising tech startup in Rome that needed a three-million-dollar seed investment.

She swore on her life she was just borrowing the money and would pay me back double when the company took off.

I was in the middle of a sit-down with the Mexican cartel, the kind where the guns are already under the table. I didn't have time to reply.

The next morning, I got a text from an anonymous number.

It was just a picture and one line of text.

The photo showed Anna tied to a metal chair in a derelict warehouse. Her clothes were torn, a dirty rag was stuffed in her mouth, and she was crying. A gun was pressed to her forehead.

The text read: Three million for your sister's life. You have two hours to wire it to this account, or you'll be getting her back in a box.

"I was frantic," I said, my voice trembling with rage as I ground my teeth. "I didn't have time to verify anything. I diverted the bridge loan I had just secured to buy the third port in Brooklyn and sent the three million."

The moment the money hit the account, Anna was "released."

She even called me, sobbing hysterically, telling me how she thought she'd never see me again.

"And now," Leo's voice was ice, "it sounds like a little drama she cooked up to get her hands on the money."

"We just have to trace the 'kidnapper's' account and the money trail. That'll expose her lie instantly."

I nodded, forcing a tired smile. "To stage her own kidnapping for three million dollars… I protected her with my life, but maybe I never really knew my 'good' sister at all."

I’d used every trick in the book to outmaneuver the old, scheming dons, but I never thought my own sister would turn those same tricks on me.

"Once you go before the Commission, your relationship as sisters is over. There's no coming back," Leo reminded me, his eyes locked on mine. "Victor is a cunning fox. He will use this to paint you as a tyrant who cruelly exiled her own sister for power. And Anna will be the poor, terrified little thing, shivering in a foreign land, fearing for her life. The old men on the Commission, they eat that stuff up."

"Poor little thing?" I scoffed. "A poor little thing who blew through twenty million dollars?"

"Exactly. Which is why we have to get ironclad proof that her life in Europe was anything but 'exile and fear'."

I knew what he meant. I nodded.

"I'll have someone look into it."

As evening fell, the rain finally stopped, leaving a heavy, earthy smell in the air.

My phone lit up on the desk.

A text from Anna.

Sister, I've thought about it. I don't want things to get ugly either. We can compromise. Just give me the smuggling port in Brooklyn and an extra ten million in compensation, and I'll drop the complaint. This is to protect your dignity.

Compromise? Protect my dignity?

She holds a knife to my throat, tries to steal my territory and my money, and expects me to thank her for it?

I stared at the words on the screen. Whatever tiny flicker of family feeling I had left for her was extinguished by that text.

My face was a mask as I typed.

"No. See you at the Commission."

And I hit send.