The Don's Biggest Mistake: Sending Me to Jail

"You're late," Chris Corleone said.

He smiled at me from inside the car. "Congratulations on getting out of jail, partner."

Behind me was my former fiance, Scarpa Falcone. His face darkened. He stared at me in disbelief, then at the glaring stretch Lincoln.

"Viviana, you'd better explain yourself."

His voice carried his usual arrogance. He sounded like he was throwing a tantrum. "Who the hell is he?"

I didn't turn around, opting only to curve my lips at Chris. "There was some traffic. It cost me a few minutes."

Chris didn't mind. He stepped out of the car and opened the door for me. His movements were gentlemanly, but detached.

"I've waited for five years," he said lightly. "A few minutes won't kill me."

The familiarity and intimacy in his voice hit Scarpa's heart like a needle.

Scarpa lunged forward and grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip. "Viviana! I'm talking to you! Where did you meet this shady person? Get back to the estate. Don't forget who you are."

I finally turned to look at him. My gaze was flat like still water.

Then, in a voice just loud enough for all of his Soldatos to hear, I slowly asked, "Mr. Falcone, do we know each other?"

His pupils shrank. The hand on my wrist loosened. "Why…"

I easily slipped free from his grip and smoothed the wrinkles from my sleeve. It was the same motion he had used to clean his gun five years ago.

"Oh, I remember now," I scoffed. "You're the legendary Don who sent his adopted daughter and fiancee to federal prison just to marry her best friend."

Silence.

The air drained out of the street. His men held their breath.

Scarpa had never imagined that the woman who once obeyed his every word and loved him to the bone would speak to him like this.

"You'll regret this, Viviana," he warned through clenched teeth. "Without a famiglia, you're nothing."

I laughed as I settled into the leather seat.

Chris got into the driver's seat. The engine purred, and the car rolled forward smoothly.

Through the rearview mirror, I watched as Scarpa's flashy Porsche shrank into a distant black dot.

Chris handed me a cup of warm water. "Does your hand hurt?"

I shook my head as I watched the city blur past the window.

"No. Just feels like the air out here is dirtier than I remember."

Chris chuckled but said nothing else. He knew my war had only just begun.

The Falcone famiglia had risen with me by Scarpa's side. I brought it up from the three streets in Balvan to the negotiation tables of Macarius.

Before prison, I was the family's Consigliere. I handled every dirty ledger and smuggling route.

After prison, all of it fell to my so-called best friend, Elisa Bianchi.

She was a fool who couldn't even tally protection money right.

I closed my eyes.

Scarpa. Elisa.

I'm back.

The Corleone famiglia controlled more than half of the East Coast ports and shipping lines.

My new office was on the top floor. It had a glass wall overlooking the glittering skyline of the Henricossa River.

"This is your battlefield," Chris said behind me in a steady voice. "Your enemies are the Corleone famiglia's enemies now."

I stared out the window.

In the distance, the faint outline of the Falcone tower loomed.