He Begged the Don. It Was Me
Six years ago, my sister and I fell for the same man, Edmund.
But he only had eyes for Rosalie, the sweet, innocent type. With them, I was always the third wheel.
They got married, of course. And on their wedding day, I overheard my parents whispering. "The company's strapped for cash," my father said. "What if we marry Corinne off to our business partner? That'd solve our problem..."
This "partner" was over fifty and twice divorced.
So I ran. I fled to Sicily with the only five thousand dollars to my name.
I ran on pure bitterness. In four years, I brought dozens of small-time Sicilian crews to heel and forged my own family: Vexille.
In another two, I came back to New York and quietly became the most powerful woman in the North American underworld.
By then, Edmund's power was crumbling, hit hard by a rival family.
That's when my mother called, her voice full of that same old entitlement. "Your brother-in-law's in some trouble. Figure out a way to help him."
Then a text from my sister, Rosalie, dripping with contempt: "Sister, I remember you have a little casino in Sicily, right? So you must know something about that Vexille family."
"Edmund needs their help. See what you can dig up."
They still don't know.
I'm the Don of the Vexille family.
I glanced at the schedule my advisor had prepared. Tomorrow, 9:00 AM. A sit-down with some minor family looking for a handout.
The name on the file: Edmund.