The Mafia King's Regret: She Moved On

For the next three days, I made myself invisible. I took the back stairs. I ate in the storage room, surrounded by sacks of flour. I studied until the text swam before my eyes and my head throbbed. I was effectively a ghost. Until the ghost was summoned. "The Capo wants to see you." I looked up from the dough I was kneading in the bakery kitchen. Dante was standing in the doorway. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes that no amount of money could hide, bruise-like shadows against his olive skin. "Why?" I asked, wiping flour onto my apron. "Just come," he said. I didn't argue. You don't argue with the Vitiellos. I followed him across the courtyard. In the past, I used to walk a step behind him, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the lethal grace of his stride. Now, I just stared at the back of his head and wondered how I could have been so blind. We entered the main office. The air smelled heavy with stale cigar smoke and expensive leather. Lucio Moretti, the Capo and Bianca's father, sat behind a massive mahogany desk. Bianca was perched on the edge of it, examining her manicure. She looked up when we entered, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. "There she is," Bianca said. "The little baker." "What is this?" I asked, looking at Dante. He didn't look at me. He moved to stand near Bianca, crossing his arms over his chest. A united front. "We have a discrepancy in the supply ledgers," Lucio rumbled, his voice a deep baritone that vibrated through the room. "Funds missing from the kitchen budget. Information leaked about delivery schedules." My stomach dropped. "I don't know anything about that." "Don't you?" Bianca hopped off the desk. She circled me, her heels clicking rhythmically against the hardwood. "You're always around, aren't you? Listening. Watching. Maybe selling little secrets to pay for that fancy law school you think you're going to?" "I earned my scholarship," I snapped, indignation rising in my throat. "I use my brain, Bianca. I don't need to steal." Bianca gasped, mocking shock. She looked at Dante. "Are you going to let the help speak to me like that?" I looked at Dante too. This was the moment. The moment he could say, She's honest. She's loyal. She's been feeding me for months. Dante looked at Bianca. I saw the calculation in his eyes, cold and unyielding. Bianca was the daughter of his most powerful general. I was nobody. "Watch your tone, Elena," Dante said coldly. "You're here to answer questions, not throw insults." The betrayal didn't sting. It burned. It cauterized the wound instantly. It clarified everything. "I didn't take your money," I said, looking Lucio dead in the eye. "Check the cameras. Check my bank accounts. I have nothing to hide." "We will," Lucio said. "Get out. And stay out of the main house until we decide what to do with you." I turned on my heel and walked out. I didn't run this time. I walked with the spine of a woman who realized that in their world, innocence was just a weakness waiting to be exploited.