Chapter 1

My husband, Lucio Moretti, Don of the Moretti family, brought in a girl from the slums and put her in charge of the estate.

From that day on, every dollar I spent had to be approved by Gianna.

I couldn't even decide to buy a single lipstick, or one dress, on my own.

Later, my mother-in-law fell down the stairs on the night before her birthday.

I called Gianna right away and demanded 200 grand for the medical bills.

But she decided I was lying. "Donna, you really made up a story about your own mother dying just so I'd approve you more money?"

Then the call ended.

Because Gianna refused to approve the money, my mother-in-law died.

And Lucio? He was already having the lawyer draft a waiver for me to sign, a formal release of any claims related to her death.

He held a tearful, "guilty" Gianna against him and talked me down like I was being unreasonable.

"Gia was only doing her job. Your mother was never healthy anyway. This is mercy."

"Be good. Sign it."

I went still.

He thought it was my mother who died.

But it was his.

Chapter 1

"Lucio, Mama fell down the stairs. The surgeons won't touch her until someone clears the deposit, and Gianna's frozen every account. Do something. Now!"

I nearly screamed it into the phone, one hand locked around the armrest, my eyes on the back of the driver's neck.

Faster. Faster!

Behind Lucio, music thundered. Crystal clinked against each other.

His mother's birthday party had already started.

"Save it. I know exactly what you're about to say."

He sighed, long and put-upon.

"Elena. You married into the Morettis. That's supposed to buy your side some manners by now."

"But who brought your people a free pass to crawl through my house at night and take what isn't theirs?"

My hand tightened around the phone until it ached.

"My people? Lucio, you don't understand who she really is..."

"I don't care. Even if she's your mother. In this city, you touch what belongs to the Morettis, you pay for it. No exceptions."

His voice climbed.

"She snuck into my study last night. What about next time? My armory? My shipment lists end up in Torrino hands?"

"Relax. Gia's only holding the money to teach her a lesson. Pain sharpens character, sharpens manners. Don't worry, she'll sign off on it in the end. She always does."

I should be grateful?

My jaw locked. So this was how he saw us. Me. My mother.

Just a week before, my mother had been calling in every favor she had at the East Port, trying to reopen a weapons route that had sat stalled for half a year.

This alliance was supposed to run on good faith. Our ports for their protection. We had already paid our half. However, he was the one still deciding whether gratitude was worth the trouble.

Besides, my mother had never taken so much as a pin that wasn't hers. Was this what the Morettis called honoring an alliance?

I forced the heat down in my chest. Right now, all I wanted was to save my mother-in-law's life.

"You have to send the rest money right now, or she won't make it. Do you hear me? She's the woman who raised you, Lucio."

Silence.

Then he laughed.

"Elena, have you lost your mind?" A sneer came down the line. "Your mother never raised me a day in her life. Don't dress this up like your family means something to me."

"My mother's tour is almost over. She's already on her way home for her birthday party. So drop this, Elena. Leave Gia alone."

"Lucio, listen, the woman who fell, you think she's my mother. She's not. She's..."

"No wonder Gia can't stand any of you." He hung up.

I'd barely lowered the phone before a notification popped up. He'd posted.

A photo of the party, glittering behind him, captioned:

To my mother. Every door that's ever opened for me, every privilege I've ever held: it all traces back to the woman who gave me life.

Not even my wife will ever outrank her.

I stared at the photo, something twisting in my chest.

Rosaria. My mother-in-law. The woman who fell.

She was the one who'd built the Moretti family out of gunfire and back-room deals, brick by brick, with her own two hands, until she sat at the top of this whole city.

Dozens of capos answered to her, and goons beyond counting. And somehow none of it had hardened her. She still had room in her for kindness, for anyone.

Just two nights ago she'd called from Iceland, laughing like a kid. "I'm cutting this stupid trip short, sweetheart. I miss my children. I've got a whole suitcase of gifts for you all. I'm coming home early to surprise my kids."

When she said "my kids," she always counted me among them.

And right now, she was lying on some cold table, her life hanging by a thread, because every cent she'd earned over a lifetime sat in the hands of her son's housekeeper Gianna.

My mother, next to me in the car, glanced over. "What's wrong? Did something happen to Rosaria?"

I let out a breath, my chest tight, and took her hand. "Mamma. When we get to the party, stay in the car. It's a mess of people I don't trust. I don't want anything happening to you."

She frowned, but she'd learned to trust how I handled things. She didn't push.

Outside the windshield, the city stretched bright under the afternoon sun.

What I didn't know: somewhere on the Moretti estate, Gianna stood over the blood on the staircase, already dried black, smiling down at it.

And in the ballroom, Lucio was straightening his cufflinks, wondering why his mother was late.

Chapter 2

Still on the road, my phone lit up. A video call. Gianna.

She'd propped the camera up somewhere. Behind her, the estate's incinerator roared, and she was feeding things into it, one piece at a time.

"Oh, Elena." She tilted her head, all mock sympathy. "Some thief broke into the estate in the middle of the night and left a suitcase behind. So I had to clean up her mess. "

She smiled. "So I went ahead and cleared out her things for you. No point letting a thief's junk stink up our floors. No need to thank me."

The orange Hermès scarf curled and blackened in her fingers before she let it drop into the flames.

It was Rosaria's favorite. No woman in the Moretti family ever wore orange, out of respect for her. That color belonged to Rosaria and no one else.

Gianna clearly didn't know that. She'd only come to the estate these past two years, while Rosaria was off traveling the world.

"You're absolutely insane!" My voice tore out of me. "Lucio will kill you for this. He'll never forgive you."

She laughed, light and delighted. "You're not that important to him."

Then she hung up.

A second later, an anonymous clip landed in my messages: the same fire, the same suitcase, filmed from another angle.

I forwarded it to Lucio exactly as I'd gotten it. Hoping he'd recognize it as Rosaria's suitcase. He never opened it.

Two hours later, my car rolled up to the estate.

The lawn in front of the family estate had been transformed. A stage and a long banquet table stood at its center, and above them hung a banner: Happy Birthday, Mama.

Dozens of people had already gathered: Moretti capos, the family's inner circle, and guests from other houses who'd come to celebrate Rosaria's birthday.

The moment my heel touched the ground, every conversation stopped. They looked at me with curiosity. And under it, something worse. Pity.

I frowned and walked in. Then I understood.

In the corner of the courtyard, a body lay covered in a white sheet.

Gianna cut through the crowd toward me.

She wore a green satin gown and a wide-brimmed hat with a veil. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought she was the guest of honor.

She winked at me, playing the picture of innocence. Then she turned to face the courtyard, and her whole body changed.

"Elena." She dabbed at her eyes, her voice pitched to carry to the farthest table. "I didn't want to say this in front of everyone."

A hush spread through the guests. She let it sit.

"Your mother crept onto our estate to steal and fell from stairs." She pressed a hand to her chest.

“By the time I wired the money to the hospital, it was too late. The doctor said she was already gone.”

Her voice broke, perfectly timed.

"All I could do was bring her body to you. So you'd get to see her one last time."

Then she looked up, glassy-eyed, and gave the whole courtyard the finishing line.

"You're not going to blame me for this. Are you?"

The next second, my palm cracked across her face before she got the last word out. Hard enough that a ripple of gasps went through the guests.

"How dare you." My voice shook with everything I was holding back. "How dare you do this to her. And then stand here and cry about it."

Gianna's head snapped to the side. Before I could say another word, Lucio crossed the courtyard and stepped between us, shielding her.

"Are you okay?" He cupped Gianna's face, frantic, where my handprint was already rising red and swollen.

Gianna's lower lip trembled, right on cue.

"I'm sorry, Don. I never meant to ruin your mother's birthday. I just... I panicked. I thought I was doing the right thing..."

"Shh." He pulled her into his chest. "I know. Not your fault. You were just doing your job."

Then he turned to me. Every trace of softness gone.

"Elena. You're cut from the same cloth as your mother. She broke into Moretti property. Terrified my Gia. And now you come here throwing a tantrum, turning my mother's birthday into a circus. You should be thanking me for not making your family pay for the damage."

I stared at him.

At the man I'd married.

At a Don defending the woman who'd just let an innocent old woman die.

"Lucio." I said it slowly, one word at a time. "Go look at the body."

He laughed in my face.

"Why? So I can get one last look at your mother's face? So you can make me feel sorry for you?"

"I'm not ruining my appetite over some old, ugly woman's corpse. I'd never eat again."

Behind him, Ivy, his sister, strolled over, unhurried.

"Lucio, why are you even talking to her? Her mother's the one who couldn't keep her hands off things that weren't hers."

"If Father hadn't forced this marriage on his deathbed, you could've had anyone. Someone with actual standing. Instead you're stuck with the daughter of a thief."

"Honestly, putting this thief down for good is a favor to everyone. Saves her the trouble of crawling into someone else's house next and dragging our name through the mud."

Heads nodded all around the courtyard.

"She's right. Mothers-in-law like that are parasites. Bleed you dry and call it family. The Morettis don't need that kind of dead weight."

"God forbid she steals from another house and someone traces it back to us. We'd never live it down."

"Why hasn't Elena just locked her mother up somewhere? Gianna did us all a favor, if you ask me. One and done."

Gianna lifted her head from Lucio's chest, eyes swimming.

"But Elena looks so angry. What if she wants revenge? What if she comes after me?"

"Don't be scared." Lucio tightened his arms around her. "As long as I'm breathing, no one in this city touches you."

He snapped his fingers. The family lawyer stepped forward, papers in hand.

"Mrs. Moretti. Sign this waiver. Once you do, you're free to take the body. Your mother's death was an accident. Your family will never seek damages from the Morettis. She brought this on herself."

"Out of respect for our marriage, I'm willing to overlook the trespassing, the theft. But you sign, and you promise never to come after Gia again," Lucio added.

"You've got five minutes." He tipped his chin at the sheet. "My mother's almost here. I'd rather she didn't walk into this mess."

Chapter 3

I glanced at the waiver. Didn't take it.

"If anyone signs that," I held back my tears, my eyes lingering on where Rosaria lay, "it’s not me."

Lucio's jaw tightened. He thought I was digging in against Gianna out of spite.

"Elena. You're really going to do this the hard way."

"You and your mother had nothing except those few rotting ports of yours." His mouth curled. "You really want to make an enemy of me over a corpse?"

"Leave Gia out of it. Her hands are clean. I don't want them stained with blood."

Ivy nodded along beside him.

"Exactly." She smirked. "Or is this about squeezing money out of the Morettis with your mother's death? Because if so, I've been overestimating you."

Gianna's tears started up again.

"Don, this is my fault. Maybe I should just resign, if that would settle Miss Elena down..."

"You will not resign." Lucio pulled her behind him, his eyes going flat as they swept over me. "Elena, I'm asking one last time. Are you signing, or not?"

I was grateful, at least, that I hadn't let my mother out of the car to hear any of this.

I let them finish. Then I shook my head.

"You've all got it wrong. A waiver over a death like this is worthless unless it's signed by her own blood." I looked at Lucio. Then at Ivy. "Which means the only two people here with any right to sign it are standing right there. The two of you."

The courtyard went dead silent.

Ivy's face went red and blotchy.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, you crazy bitch?" Her voice climbed to a shriek.

"My mother is walking through that door any minute, and you're standing here telling everyone she's the one under that sheet? "

She stabbed a finger into my chest. "Take that back. Every word of it. Or I swear to God, I'll kill you."

Lucio lifted a hand, cutting her off.

"Elena. You're pretty enough that I was going to let you keep some dignity walking out of here."

"But my mother is the most important thing in my life. I don't care that you're my wife. I don't care what my father promised your family on his deathbed. Nobody disrespects her like that. Not to my face."

"Drag the body out." Lucio jerked his chin at the sheet. "Throw it in the incinerator at the dump. Let her be good for something, for once, even as fuel."

"No!" I stared at him, refusing to believe it.

"Lucio, how can you do something like this? She's a Catholic. You can't have her burned."

The goons next to him hesitated.

"Boss. Are you... sure?"

"I said do it."

Lucio's voice dropped, low and dangerous.

"She won't sign the waiver. She cursed my mother to her face. Fine. Let her watch her thieving mother rot in a landfill."

The goons moved toward the sheet.

And something in me broke.

"Don't touch her!" My voice ripped raw out of my throat, nothing left of the calm I'd carried in with. "She's the woman who raised him. She raised him."

The goons hesitated, unsure whether they were allowed to lay hands on their own Donna.

Then Gianna crouched down beside me. Close. Her lips grazed my ear, her voice pitched too low for anyone else to catch.

"There it is," she breathed. "You finally can't take it, can you?"

She didn't wait for me to answer. She straightened and turned on the goons, her voice gone cold. "What are you all just standing there for? Since when does the Don's order mean nothing to you? Or are you tired of breathing?"

They pulled me back. And they carried Rosaria across the lawn to the incinerator, while I screamed after her.

Around me, heads shook. Fingers pointed.

"This is what happens when you push a Don past his limit."

"The old Don died young, you know. Rosaria raised the two of them all on her own, Lucio and Ivy both. Donna Elena thought she could disrespect a woman like her? To his face? She's dug her own grave."

"First the mother sneaks in to steal from us, now the daughter's standing here cursing his mother in front of the whole party. That family's beyond saving, I'm telling you."

I let it all wash past me. Pulled out my phone. Sent my mother a text.

"Lucio." I closed my eyes. "You really want to go through with this? You can still stop."

He turned to face me, his expression carved from stone.

"You're the one who's going to regret this."

"Elena, your mother died because she couldn't keep her hands off things that weren't hers."

"And you won't even let her rest. You had to make a scene. Curse my mother. Turn my mother's birthday into a funeral."

The car door at the gate opened before he'd finished the sentence.

"What's going on? Did I just hear someone say... funeral?"

My mother came through the front gate, cream cashmere coat, a diamond necklace catching the light at her throat.

Color in her cheeks. Very much alive.