The Donna Scorecard

I didn't know Marco had been involved with Sofia Russo for three months until she walked into my office unannounced.

She didn't knock. She set a black gift box on top of my files. Sofia had once worked at one of Fontana's nightclubs; lately Marco had arranged an internship for her at the family's charitable foundation.

"Marco asked me to bring this to you."

Inside lay a pair of cufflinks engraved with the Fontana crest.

"He left them at my place last night."

She touched the blue diamond at her throat, a piece from Marco's favourite jeweller. Then she slid her phone across my desk.

The photograph showed Marco in his penthouse, collar open, two glasses of whisky beside him. Sofia wore his black shirt, the diamond resting against her bare collarbone.

The timestamp read 1:17 a.m.

Pain tightened across my chest, but I kept my face still.

Marco and I had met at business school. When he returned to Sicily as one of the Fontana family's least favoured heirs, I followed him and became the family's investment adviser, hiding the fact that I was the daughter of the Mafia Commission Chairman.

Seven years ago, he had taken me to the family chapel and placed a ring on my finger. Their attorney gave me a sealed marriage certificate and assured me the legal process was complete. I believed I was Marco's lawful wife, only awaiting the public ceremony.

He promised that once he inherited the Don's position, he would give me a wedding the underworld would remember.

So I helped him secure financing, ports, shipping routes, and the elders' votes. I stood beside him until he became the family's heir.

Then, the night before, I learned about the Donna selection list.

Twelve women. One ring.

I was only a candidate, and my score was lower than Sofia's.

Sofia took back her phone.

"He's spent quite a few nights at my place this month. A Donna candidate has to prove she knows how to satisfy the future Don."

I reached for an unsigned investment contract on my desk.

"You are gentler than I am," I said. "You suit him better."

I handed her the contract.

Sofia lifted her chin. "Marco wants me to start learning the Donna's responsibilities."

"Then manage this project."

She opened the contract and stared at the figures and legal clauses.

"What is this?"

"The risk assessment is due in three days. You'll also need new terms for the banks and port authorities."

"You're trying to humiliate me."

"A Donna receives more than jewellery and a seat at dinner. If you want the position, carry its responsibilities."

Sofia threw the contract onto the floor and pressed one heel against the page.

"Stop pretending you don't care. Marco says you're too controlling. You question him in meetings and behave more like a consigliere than a wife."

She lifted her chin again.

"He needs a gentle, obedient woman, not someone who makes him feel as though he isn't the Don."

Those words cut deeper than the photograph.

Marco had once depended on my judgment. Now that he had power, he resented the same strength that had helped him obtain it.

I glanced at the contract beneath Sofia's heel.

"You're right."

Triumph returned to her eyes.

"Giving away something I no longer want to someone desperate to possess it is what I call generosity."

"The contract is yours."

"So is Marco."

Her face darkened.

"You're just a woman about to be eliminated."

"If I've already lost, why did you come here wearing his clothes and his necklace, carrying a photograph you needed me to see?"

I held her gaze.

"What are you afraid of?"

She grabbed the gift box and hurled it at me.

I moved aside. The box struck the bookcase, scattering the cufflinks across the floor. Sofia came around the desk and raised her hand toward my face.

I caught her wrist and slapped her.

The sound cut through the office.

She pressed a hand to her cheek.

"You hit me."

"That is the consequence of entering my office without permission, destroying project documents, and trying to strike me."

I released her wrist.

"You can have Marco and the Donna position."

"But if you come here again, I will not be so restrained."

Sofia collected her phone and backed toward the door.

"You'll regret this. Marco will make you pay."

She slammed the door behind her.

I looked at the scattered cufflinks and the contract beneath her heel. The pain remained, but I understood the truth.

Marco had loved my strength when it could win him everything. Now that his position was secure, he wanted me quiet and obedient, as though I had not been the one holding him upright during the climb.