Left for a Stuffed Animal

They all decided my usual good temper had been an act.

That I was fake, violent, and good for nothing.

Gigi turned to Sal, eyes watery. "I'm sorry, Consigliere. It's all my fault."

"I shouldn't have spoken up. I provoked your wife. Please don't blame her."

She lowered her head, looking utterly guilty.

"Not your fault."

"I'm the one who dragged you into this."

He comforted her, then turned to me with that pathetic, begging voice. "Cara, don't take our problems out on innocent people."

"Today is our son's baptism. Stop the theatrics, okay? I'm begging you."

As he spoke, he forced out a sob—tears streaming down his face like a broken faucet. Too loud, too theatrical, all for the gallery, not for me.

His compromise.

My violence.

The contrast couldn't be clearer.

Every made man in the room sided with him.

The old guards drew a deep breath, trying one last time. "Daughter-in-law, you've worked hard all these years. Loyal to the Family, filial to us."

"There's no need for this."

"Show me solid proof you've been wronged, and I'll judge in your favor."

He gave me an out.

I didn't take it. I stayed cold, hard as steel. "I'm ending this marriage. Period."

The old guard's face turned slate-gray, choked with fury.

Sal looked at me through his fake tears. "Cara, is there someone else?"

"Think what you want. If you believe it, then it's true."

I said it flatly.

"Enough!"

The old guards exploded, slamming his ring hand on the oak table. "Cara Lucchese, don't think we're pushovers. I'm giving you three days."

"Either fix this marriage."

"Or we go before the Don—you'll walk away with nothing."

"Don't forget. Everything you have, Barzini Family gave you."

Heavy words.

Everyone expected me to crumble.

I turned and walked out.

...

Outside, Marco—my junior from law school—was waiting in the black sedan.

"I've already sent men to Europe," he said, voice low. "The answers you need will come soon."

"Thanks."

"Three days from now, I'm taking Sal before the Don. I need you there as my lawyer."

I collapsed into the back seat, utterly drained, and pulled out my phone. I scrolled to the surveillance clip.

There it was: that filthy teddy bear standing upright on two legs, waddling out of the guest suite. Then it turned, faced the camera directly, and did a little jig—like a drunk soldier mocking me.

Three days.

Enough time to prepare the evidence. To end this nightmare for good.