Chapter 4

Sunday night, the Cappello estate banquet hall.

I wore the black strapless evening gown Julian had picked out and sat quietly at the far end of the long table.

Victor sat at the head. Elena sat beside him, and next to her was Mia, that pink diamond necklace glittering at her throat.

Julian walked over, but he didn't sit beside me. He pulled out the chair next to Mia and settled in like he belonged there.

After the servers cleared the appetizers, Victor set down his silver knife and rapped the table.

The entire hall went silent.

Victor lifted his head, his sharp gaze landing on me.

"Helena. Sign this."

Julian rose and slid a legal document, dozens of pages thick, in front of me.

I glanced down.

The document didn't just strip me of my sixteen Brooklyn berths and every shipping equity I held. It also piled nine hundred sixty million dollars in money laundering charges, plus linked smuggling and tax evasion counts, all onto my name alone.

So that was it. Friday morning, once the last two overseas transfers cleared into the family trust, they'd decided I was used up. Time to settle accounts.

I lifted my head, met the Don's eyes across the table.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

Victor's face was cold. He didn't answer.

Elena raised her wine glass, a mocking smile curling her lips.

"Helena, we're all smart people here. Drop the act."

"The federal grand jury investigation is coming. The Cappello family needs a clean exit."

"Mia has a clean record. She's sweet. She'll be the future of this family, marry into Manhattan's finest."

"You, on the other hand, you've got too much blood on your hands. You were never going to sit at the real table."

"You were the one who brought Mia out of the slums. Now you get to pave the road for your own adopted sister, let her live the life of a society lady you could never be. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

Mia let out a light laugh and slid her hand through Julian's arm.

"Helena, don't blame Julian. And don't hold it against Mr. and Mrs. Cappello."

"Julian actually feels for you. You're just so rigid. All you do is work. No warmth, no fun. What man could stand that?"

"All these years, you bled for this family so Julian and I could live well out in the sun, didn't you?"

"If you won't take these charges now, the moment the feds come knocking, the whole family goes down."

"You love me so much. You wouldn't want me to live in fear, to rot in a cell, would you?"

"Just sign it, Helena."

The pink diamond at her throat blazed under the chandelier, bright enough to send a chill straight through my chest.

Eight years ago, I carried her out of the slums.

She clutched my sleeve, sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe, calling me sister, begging me to save her.

I ached for what she'd been through. I sheltered her like my own blood.

Dressed her in designer clothes. Sent her to Manhattan's finest schools. Never once said no when she reached out for money.

Through all those years of blood and bullets, I told myself that if my hands were stained red, at least I could build her a clean, sunlit world.

And the first thing she did once her wings were strong enough was try to shove me into the abyss.

I turned to Julian, sitting beside her.

"This your idea too?"

Julian met my eyes. Not a flicker of guilt.

"Helena, don't be naive. You think I actually love you?"

"You bury yourself in ledgers all day. Your hands smell like ink. Touching you makes my skin crawl."

"If I hadn't been waiting for you to serve your last bit of use to this family, I wouldn't have looked at you twice."

He pulled a pen from his breast pocket and tossed it in front of me.

"I've already prepared the confession. Just needs your signature."

"Tonight you sign it. Or you sign it."

"You think I picked that black dress for you as a celebration?"

He leaned in, his whisper vicious and low.

"Father and I chose it together. It's your shroud."

Along the table, the bodyguards drew their weapons in unison. Every barrel pointed dead at my forehead.

Elena sliced into her steak with slow, deliberate grace.

"Helena. Sign the agreement. Turn yourself in to the FBI. Don't make Victor resort to family discipline."

I lifted my eyes.

I looked past Victor's ashen face, Elena's sharp smirk, Mia's gloating smile, and Julian's fake pity.

It all felt absurd.

"And if I don't sign?"

Victor's face went dark, his eyes murderous.

"In the Cappello family, people who don't obey end up in the bay. With cement blocks tied to their feet."

The click of gun safeties echoed through the silent hall.

Victor raised his right hand, ready to bring it down.

"BANG!"

The heavy banquet hall doors blew inward. Outside, a wall of black shadows.

Dozens of armed men poured in, gold eagle crests of the Moretti family pinned to their chests. Red laser dots locked onto every bodyguard at the table.

The head of the Moretti family's North American operations walked straight down the length of the table and bowed to me, seated at the very end.

"Miss. The Moretti North American heavy guard is in position."

"The old Don's orders. Tonight, not even a fly leaves this estate alive."

Victor's wine glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. Red wine splattered across his trousers.

The Don who thought he controlled everything stared at those gold eagle crests, lips trembling, face gray as death.

"Mo... Moretti?! The Moretti family? From Sicily?!"

Elena and Mia screamed, scrambling, collapsing to the floor.

And Julian, who'd been whispering venom in my ear a moment ago, dropped like his knees had been cut out from under him.

The Cappello family, invincible a second ago, shook like leaves under the Moretti guns.

At the far end of the table, I raised my glass, took a slow sip, and let a cold smile spread across my lips.