Underboss Denied Surgery Funds, Don Regretted Everything

After the wedding, Dante handed the Family ledgers and control of the emergency vault to Valentina, his lover.

Every expense—from arms purchases to medical bills for Family members—had to go through her. Even I, the Donna, needed Valentina's approval.

Then Beatrice, Dante's mother and the former Donna, was ambushed outside a church.

Dante was locked in a closed-door meeting with the Five Families.

So I went to the office and asked Valentina to release the emergency funds.

She sat there painting her nails.

"You need money? Fine. Submit a request."

Valentina never missed a chance to use the authority Dante had given her to humiliate someone.

But Beatrice was still waiting for surgery. I had no time to argue, so I quickly wrote down the amount, the reason for the withdrawal, and the payment deadline.

Valentina rejected the request without even glancing at it.

"That's it?" she asked. "You're asking for half a million dollars, not fifty bucks. Denied."

"Her aorta is still bleeding. The clinic gave us ninety minutes." My voice was already shaking. "Release the money first. I'll finish the paperwork when I get back."

Valentina lowered her eyes and carefully touched up one of her nails.

"Rules are rules. Anything over one hundred thousand dollars requires a full two-page request. The patient's identity, clinic address, transport route, and guarantor must all be included. You want to save her? Rewrite it."

I was about to argue when another message from the clinic lit up my screen.

"Patient's blood pressure is still dropping. Please confirm whether you can cover the helicopter fee."

I swallowed my retort and reached for a new form.

But Valentina snatched the form off the desk before I could start.

"Dante had this desk shipped from Germany just for me. You have no right to use it. Write on the floor on your knees or leave."

I stood there, frozen.

Three years ago, I had saved three of the Family's docks with a single truce agreement.

The old Don had once said I was a better negotiator than even the Consigliere.

But after the wedding, Dante kicked me out of the council.

And now I wasn't even allowed to touch his lover's desk.

Outside the door, several Family members had gathered to watch, eager to see if their Donna would humble herself before the Don's lover.

I clenched the diagnosis report in my fist. Every second Valentina wasted brought Beatrice closer to death.

Kneeling on the cold marble floor, I wrote the second request.

The people in the hallway no longer bothered to hide the contempt in their stares. Their whispers drifted into the office.

"That's our Donna?"

"Don Dante never lets her attend the council. Valentina's the one who's always at his side."

I finished the last line, checked it twice to make sure I had included every detail Valentina demanded, and handed it over.

Valentina set down her nail polish but made no move to take the form.

"You've been a housewife for so long; all you know how to do is ask for money. You don't know the first thing about how the Family operates."

I frowned and pushed the form closer. "Please approve it. Now."

She picked up her espresso and poured it over the paper.

The ink ran instantly, smearing the words beyond recognition.

I snatched the paper back and wiped at the coffee with my sleeve, but it was too late.

Valentina leaned back in the chair, her expression unchanged.

"Before making a request, you should at least knock. I was talking to an accounting assistant, and you walked straight in and came up to my desk. You startled me."

"The person lying in that clinic means everything to Dante." I stared at her. "I don't have time for these games."

Valentina gave a cold laugh.

"Beatrice is supposed to be in Sicily. If you want the money to save your mother, at least come up with a better lie.

"This is the Moretti Family's money, not your personal bank account. Next time, knock before you come in and show me some respect. If I don't like your attitude, you don't get my signature."

More than an hour had already passed. If Valentina delayed much longer, Beatrice would miss her last chance for surgery.

I swallowed my anger, knelt on the floor, and began filling out the third request.

When I finished, I held out the completed request to her.

"Underboss, I request your approval of this application."

Valentina was touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror.

"How much time did you say she had left? What's wrong? You're not in such a hurry anymore. Or are you finally starting to understand why following protocol matters?"

I got to my feet, stepped outside, and knocked three times on the office door. Then I walked back in and placed the form in front of her.

"I've done everything you asked. Now give me the money!"

"I heard you." She waved me off impatiently. "You're always finding new ways to make trouble for me."

Valentina finally picked up the paper.

She examined every line at an agonizing pace, as though the document were a treaty that would decide the fate of the entire Family.

Ten minutes later, she set the paper down and picked up the secure phone on the desk.