The Ninety-Ninth Time the Don Chose My Sister, I Walked Away

I took a drugged drink for Moretti, the Don I had loved for seven years.

He helped Bella, my frightened sister, to her feet first.

"Bella is fragile. I'll get her to the car."

"Iris, wait here. I'll come back for you soon."

My stomach burned like fire, but my fingers were turning cold.

I stood there frozen for a long moment before a bitter laugh slipped out.

It was the ninety-ninth time he had chosen Bella.

In college, I once waited for him in the library with a fever, expecting him to take me home.

Then Bella called and said her panic attack was back, so he told me to wait.

Years later, I entered the Valtieri family and became his underboss.

I balanced his books, negotiated his deals, took bullets for him.

He still believed I would always wait.

I bit my tongue and forced myself to stay clear-headed while I handled another round of probing from the rival family.

At one in the morning, Moretti still had not come back.

Bella's post appeared first.

In the photo, Moretti was making her a late-night meal.

That was when I understood.

This time, too, he would not come back for me.

And I no longer wanted to wait.

I opened my phone and bought a ticket to Sicily three days later.

Moretti, goodbye.

The wine in the banquet hall had gone cold.

The rival family men were still seated at the far end of the long table, watching me with thin smiles.

"Still no Moretti?"

"Looks like he really did forget his underboss here."

The burn in my stomach had not faded, but my mind was painfully clear.

I ignored the mockery in their voices and set my empty glass down.

"A man can fail to show up."

"Business still has to be finished."

"Gentlemen, let's talk."

For the next few hours, I forced myself through the drug haze and deflected every trap they had buried in the conversation.

Only after I saw off the last car did I brace one hand against the doorframe and let myself breathe.

By the time I returned to the manor, dawn had already begun to pale the sky.

I took off my coat, still heavy with the smell of alcohol, and sat alone at my desk.

The port ledger I had not finished was open in front of me.

One page was circled in red.

It marked the shipping window the rival family had been trying to confirm all night.

If I had collapsed at that table, the cargo would have been intercepted before sunrise.

Moretti would never know what I had stopped for him during the hours he promised to come back.

The security system in my room was still broken.

I had told him about it a month ago.

He said he would send someone after the port accounts were settled.

Bella's fireplace broke once.

He went there himself and had it replaced that same night.

I looked at the