Chapter 3

The next day, I started packing.

Seven years of marriage, and packing took me twenty minutes.

Two changes of clothes. My ID. A pill case.

And the signed divorce papers.

The bookshelf and drawers, though—those were packed full.

Seven years of accounts, bound by month, bowing the shelves under their weight.

I pulled out the bottom ledger and opened it at random. The buried memories came rushing back.

That year, the family's mining business nearly bled out of cash.

I stayed up four nights straight, restructuring the short- and long-term debt maturities, steadying the cash flow cushion.

Carmine brought the elders to my study.

They stood behind me, waiting for me to figure out how many businesses we could save.

Back then, no one mentioned my British blood.

Once the books balanced, Bianca came in with coffee.

But the elders handed the ledger to her.

"Better to have one of our own do a final review. Just to be safe."

I gripped my pen until my knuckles went white.

Carmine pressed a hand to my shoulder, telling me not to speak.

They only needed my brain.

They didn't need my name on the payer line.

Bianca held the ledger, pretending to read it.

She couldn't understand a word of it. But every account I handled had to pass her review before it could go through.

All because Sicilian blood ran in her veins.

So she got to stand above me—the Donna.

The first year I married Carmine, the family held its year-end meeting in the back room.

I finished presenting the accounts and was about to sit down.

Bianca's hand shot out, blocking the back of the chair.

"Family dividends are up next. Outsiders step out."

My half-finished glass of water was still on the table.

I looked at Carmine in the head seat.

He closed my report and tilted his chin toward the door.

"Wait for me outside."

That night, I stood in the hallway for forty minutes.

When Bianca came out, she shoved the empty glass into my hand.

"Take this to the kitchen on your way. Thanks."

I finally asked Carmine—what exactly was I to him?

He loosened his tie, his brows drawing down, his voice edged with impatience.

"You know how much they care about bloodline."

"I already made them back down once when I married you."

"Claire, you could cut me some slack too."

I put the ledger back where it belonged and closed the drawer.

My face was wet. Every memory soaked through with the tears of this moment.

For seven years, Carmine watched everything I went through.

But all he ever said was—it's family rules. It's the price of being Donna.

And the ache inside me was like a small mole on my body.

Only I knew where it was, and how it had surfaced.

Signing with the Falcone family wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing.

What truly made up my mind was these seven years.

That hundred thousand dollars was just a match struck inside a warehouse of gunpowder.

I carried the last quarter's ledgers to the back room for the final handover.

Bianca was sitting at the long table.

When she saw me, she pulled a few slips from the pile beside her and pushed them to the edge of the table.

"Perfect timing. These reimbursement requests need to be sent back."

I set down the ledgers. "What's wrong with them?"

She tapped one with her fingernail.

"The receipt's pasted crooked. Peel it off and redo it. Don't make finance clean up after you."

It was my taxi receipt.

The fare to my prenatal checkup. Thirty-two dollars.

I checked the date. It had been sitting there a month.

A low snicker rose from beside her.

"Donna can balance billions, but can't paste a receipt straight."

"Seven years, and she still can't get the simplest thing right."

Bianca didn't stop them. She just watched me with a smile.

I scanned the faces around the table.

Two of them had been nagging me yesterday to verify their dividends.

Now they leaned back in their chairs, waiting for me to bend my head and peel off that receipt.

It wasn't just Bianca. Barely anyone in the family respected me.

Bianca pushed the glue toward me.

"Just fix it here. Save you the trip."

I picked up the request slips and tore them to shreds.

Bianca stood up, the smile wiped clean off her face.

"Claire, who exactly are you doing this for?"

She glared at me, then sneered. "So you're done requesting funds from now on?"

I couldn't be bothered to answer. I opened the ledger and tapped the handover page.

"This quarter's accounts. Sign off if there's no problem. I'm in a hurry."

She stared at me for a few seconds, then finally put pen to paper.

I tucked away the receipt and turned to leave.

She called after me.

"Claire, from now on I'll be reviewing your requests even more carefully."

I didn't stop walking. I left without looking back.

The door closed behind me.

I opened my hand. A few shreds of the request slips still clung to my palm.

Wind swept in from the end of the hallway.

I opened my fingers and watched them get carried up, drifting far away.

One more day. And I'd be far away too.