The Don's Biggest Mistake: Sending Me to Jail

My first meeting with Chris felt like a dark joke.

It was my third year in jail. I was on the prison factory floor.

I was staring at the newspaper, lost in Falcone's midyear financials, when a voice sounded above my head.

"Leverage is too high. If I were you, I'd dump the two strip clubs and cash out immediately."

I looked up to see a man in a tailored suit.

He didn't look like an inmate. In fact, he looked like he'd walked in from a boardroom.

I learned later on that he was indeed here for a "meeting".

He was the heir to the Corleone famiglia, and he was there to "talk business" with the warden.

It was absurd.

From that day on, he became a regular.

We talked about finance, trade, and even human nature.

He was like an arms dealer, polishing my rusted claws piece by piece.

Before I got out of jail, he handed me a contract. He wanted me to be the Corleone famiglia's chief Consigliere.

"I don't do charity," he said. "I'm investing in your future. I want you to take back everything that was taken from you and help me erase the Falcones from Nelcaro."

…

A knock on the door snapped me back to the present.

My secretary's voice was tight when she told me Scarpa had arrived, unannounced. He was waving a gun.

I lifted my chin. "Send him up."

Five minutes later, Scarpa kicked the door open. His eyes were bloodshot.

He slammed a stack of bloodstained ledgers onto my desk.

"What did you do, Viviana?" he snapped. "Three of my smuggling routes were wiped out last night. It was you, wasn't it?"

I calmly leaned back in my chair. "Business is business, Don Falcone. The Corleones wanted your ports. That's just how it is."

"Drop the act! Do you think I'm an idiot? You're Chris's woman now, aren't you?" he said after letting out a sharp laugh.

He stepped closer. A familiar mix of control and rage burned in his eyes. "Is all this just to get back at me? By sleeping with another man? You disappoint me."

"You're disappointed?" I stood up and closed the distance. "Scarpa, when you sent me to prison five years ago, did it ever occur to you that I might be disappointed in you, too?"

He faltered, then snapped back in rage. "You broke the rules! You skimmed product and cost us billions! You never repented, and now you're blaming me?"

He seized my shoulders and shook me. "Come back with me. I'll pretend none of this happened. You'll still have a place in the Famiglia—"

"A place?" I cut him off cold. "In your garden, like one of your obedient Dobermans? I didn't survive five years in prison just to come back as your dog.

"As for whose woman I am now—"

I leaned in. My voice was razor-clear against his ear. "I'm the Corleone famiglia's Consigliere. I'm also your future undertaker."

Scarpa's fury boiled over. He raised his hand to hit me.

But this time, someone caught his wrist.

Chris had appeared at the doorway at some point. He had a cigar clamped between his fingers.

"Trying to lay a hand on my famiglia in my territory?" he began, slowly exhaling a puff of smoke. "Mr. Falcone, you must have a death wish."

Scarpa's eyes widened. He knew exactly who Chris was. "Chris, this is a private matter."

"A private matter?"

Chris shoved his hand away and shielded me. "She bears the Corleone name now. What does your famiglia have to do with her?"

Scarpa's face went white. "You'd go to war with the Falcones over this woman?'

Chris laughed. He was looking at a lamb ready for slaughter.

"You flatter yourself. This isn't a war. I'm going to kill you."

After Scarpa stormed off, it didn't take long for Elisa's call to come through.

She wanted to meet up at the old Igniterrian bar we used to frequent.

I agreed.

Some debts needed settling.

When I arrived, Elisa was in the far booth. She was in the latest Chanel suit. A diamond the size of a pigeon's egg glittered on her finger.

She elegantly swirled her cocktail. Her smugness was barely concealed in her eyes.

"Viviana, it's been five years. You look… worn down."

Her gaze lingered on my hands. "Those hands used to play the piano. I suppose they're more suited to scrubbing floors now."

I said nothing and let her performance play out.

"Honestly, I'm here to apologize," she said, setting her glass down with feigned guilt. "What happened back then was my fault. I shouldn't have fallen for Scarpa. But we can't control our feelings. Don't worry, Scarpa said he'll make it up to you. The two streets in Nelcaro are yours. It's enough to live out your days."

She looked at me expectantly. She was waiting for gratitude.

I laughed. "Elisa, do you know what you look like right now?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You look like a hunting dog that stole its master's steak, then came wagging its tail with a bone like nothing happened."

Her face hardened. "Do you really think Chris wants you? You're just a whore he's using to fight Scarpa! You're just a snitch turned ex-convict. Do you really think you can compete with me?"

She shot to her feet, heaving.

I lifted my glass of iced water and took a sip. "A whore, huh? You'll learn who the real whore is soon, Elisa. Enjoy that ring. Soon, it'll be nothing but stone."

I set down the glass and walked out.

Behind me, Elisa screamed, "Come back! Say that again!"

I didn't look back.

Did you hear the sound of a bullet chambering, Elisa?

The game had begun.

…

Elisa's taunt lit the fuse. That night, Scarpa cornered me in the parking lot.

"What did you say to Elisa?" he demanded. "She came home crying and said you threatened her."

Leaning against my car, I laughed. "Don Falcone, are you here to judge me, or just to defend your wife?"

His face twisted. "You've changed, Viviana."

"The girl who obeyed your every word?" I sneered. "She died in federal prison five years ago."

"What do you want? Is it money? Territory? The estate? Anything for you to leave Chris and come back to me!"

"Back to you?"

I laughed like I had heard the world's funniest joke. "And what? Count your blood-stained cash while you and Elisa dance in the garden? Scarpa, do you really think everyone's as stupid as you are?"

He grabbed my wrist and screamed, "Chris is using you! Once you're drained dry, he'll throw you back onto the streets! Are you really going to debase yourself as another man's plaything just to spite me?"

A loud slap echoed in the parking lot.

I broke free from his grasp and slapped him across his face.

Scarpa clutched his cheek. He was stunned, as if he couldn't believe I had struck him.

"You want to know what I really want? Fine. I'll tell you."

I stepped closer, my voice brushing his ear.

"I was the one who moved the shipment that vanished at the docks five years ago."

He froze.

"Then, I left a trail so the Feds would chase shadows."

The blood drained from his face, leaving him corpse-white. "W-What do you mean?"

"That shipment was a trap, Scarpa. Chris and the Feds staged it. If it had landed and we'd taken it, the whole famiglia would've been wiped out."

I straightened up, savoring his breakdown. "I saw it coming, but I couldn't stop you. So, I traded five years of freedom for the Falcone famiglia's survival.

"And you?" I jabbed a finger at him. "You doubted me, shot me, and sent me to prison. Then, you married my best friend."

My voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me, Scarpa. Who's the real traitor?"