His Mother Died Under His Own Orders

Summary

I was vacationing in St. Moritz, Switzerland with my mother when Vivian from the Valenti family office sent me a photo.

The woman in it lay on the cold marble floor of the estate, her coat stripped away, her body covered in blood. No one stood near her, as if she had already been set aside like a problem to be dealt with. It was hard to tell if she was still breathing.

A voice message followed, her tone sharp and controlled.

“Elena, don’t assume that marrying the Don and being called Donna means your small-town family can step onto Valenti property.”