The Mafia's Forgotten Daughter is Back

e my sister committed. Today, my betrothed-the man who

like a debt, watching with cold eyes as I was shoved

y sister. Without a word, he left me st

oned.

wn mother's voice. She was arranging to have me sent

otect their perfect, adopted daughter

urner phone buzzed in my pocket. A

We can get you out.

pte

a P

e my sister committed. Today, my betrothed-the man who

ght onto the damp stone floor. I flinched, shielding my eyes. The sil

of the Volkov Family

ve me. He came to co

s had fused together wrong, a permanent, throbbing reminder of a beating I'd rec

le, stripped of all warmth. He still used my

ing over my tattered prison clothes and gaunt frame with the

onary tale whispered to other mafia children. My parents grieved, then they did what the powerful do: they rep

on. I came home to a disruption. My parents looked at me, their true-born daughter, and saw a stranger thre

d crocodile tears, framing me as unstable, ungrateful, wild. I w

drunk and reckless in her sports car, hit the youngest

y father, the Consigliere, laid it out like a business deal. Serafina was fra

t me when she agreed. "It's

last hope. I begged him with my eyes. He just stared back,

to appease our enemies and protec

from the memory. His words were flat, transactional. "

siness. Not lo

my wake like a shroud. The soldiers lining the walls, the staff scurrying out of our way-their

father after his "retirement"-met us in the fo

ov, she will be housed in the old out

public branding. I was

creen, and the cold mask of the Don crack

He brought the phone to

y direction, he turned and strode out of the hou

he edge of the estate. Alone in the dust and shadows, I h

with a concern so false it was sharp. "A remote one. I

ey weren't just hiding me. They w

t of the worn coat a guard had thrown at me. I pulled out a sm

We can get you out

at all. It was a breath of ai