The Don's Biggest Mistake: Sending Me to Jail

My best friend breaks down and accuses me of skimming family shipments, which cost us billions.

Without hesitation, my fiance, Don Scarpa Falcone, points a gun at me. The bullet grazes my ear.

He sends me to prison himself, then gets engaged to my best friend instead.

Before I'm taken away, the family butler begs him, "You raised her yourself. She's your fiancee. You can't just ruin her life like this!"

"Break the rules, and pay in blood," he says, polishing his gun. "As for her future, I'll decide that later."

Five years later, I walk out of prison.

The entire Falcone family is waiting at the gate with him, as if my freedom were a handout.

"Looks like you've learned your lesson. It's time to return and get back to work. Don't do anything stupid again," he says.

I ignore him and walk straight to the stretch Lincoln behind him.

The door opens. Chris Corleone, the king of the Aurelian underworld, raises his glass to me. "Welcome back, partner."

"You're late," Chris Corleone said.

He smiled at me from inside the car. "Congratulations on getting out of jail, partner."

Behind me was my former fiance, Scarpa Falcone. His face darkened. He stared at me in disbelief, then at the glaring stretch Lincoln.

"Viviana, you'd better explain yourself."

His voice carried his usual arrogance. He sounded like he was throwing a tantrum. "Who the hell is he?"

I didn't turn around, opting only to curve my lips at Chris. "There was some traffic. It cost me a few minutes."

Chris didn't mind. He stepped out of the car and opened the door for me. His movements were gentlemanly, but detached.

"I've waited for five years," he said lightly. "A few minutes won't kill me."

The familiarity and intimacy in his voice hit Scarpa's heart like a needle.

Scarpa lunged forward and grabbed my wrist with a crushing grip. "Viviana! I'm talking to you! Where did you meet this shady person? Get back to the estate. Don't forget who you are."

I finally turned to look at him. My gaze was flat like still water.

Then, in a voice just loud enough for all of his Soldatos to hear, I slowly asked, "Mr. Falcone, do we know each other?"

His pupils shrank. The hand on my wrist loosened. "Why…"

I easily slipped free from his grip and smoothed the wrinkles from my sleeve. It was the same motion he had used to clean his gun five years ago.

"Oh, I remember now," I scoffed. "You're the legendary Don who sent his adopted daughter and fiancee to federal prison just to marry her best friend."

Silence.

The air drained out of the street. His men held their breath.

Scarpa had never imagined that the woman who once obeyed his every word and loved him to the bone would speak to him like this.

"You'll regret this, Viviana," he warned through clenched teeth. "Without a famiglia, you're nothing."

I laughed as I settled