The Don's Lost Daughter

After my husband seized the Ferrante territory through a contested succession clause, he took his dead brother's widow and her two children to the city to build a new life.

My daughter and I survived on whatever I could scrounge from corner markets and church pantries, waiting for him in that freezing tenement on the wrong side of the waterfront for five long years.

The only news that ever came was that he'd been ratified by the Commission as head of the Ferrante family.

I carried my daughter across three state lines to find him, and the soldiers at the compound gate beat us with their fists like we were strays wandering onto sacred ground.

"Showing up at the Boss's compound claiming to be family? You must be tired of living. Don't you know how our Lady deals with hussies who come sniffing around?"

I lay in a heap of my own blood. "...Lady?"

When I lifted my head, I could just make out Gianna Greco in the distance, dressed like a Donna, her two children raised as the young prince and princess of the household.

Gianna greeted us with a warm smile and set out a plate of cannoli. They were laced with poison.

My daughter was starving. She wolfed down a piece and dropped dead on the spot.

I choked up a mouthful of black blood. As the world dimmed, I heard Gianna's vicious laugh cutting through the haze.

"Serafina Castellano, you should never have come here to disrupt our household. Dante has treated me as his wife for years. If you showed up alive, how was I supposed to go on being the Lady of this house?!"

My daughter and I died like dogs. They rolled our bodies in old carpet and dumped us in an unmarked lot past the rail yards.

After I was gone, Dante wrapped his arms around a weeping Gianna and murmured comfort against her hair.

"She's dead. Let it go. Even if she'd lived, I would've had the annulment papers drawn up and told her to stay away from our family."

The meal I'd once given a starving stranger, the vows he'd sworn on his mother's grave, all of it erased from his memory as though it had never existed.

I died with hatred lodged so deep it followed me into the dark. When my eyes opened again, it was the very day Dante took control of the Ferrante territory.

I threw the wilted greens from my hands, sold the tenement for every dollar it was worth, and carried my daughter to my father's compound, where I fell to my knees.

"Father. I've decided to annul my marriage."

...

In my previous life, the moment I heard Dante had been made Boss of the Ferrante family, I bundled up my daughter and traveled across three state lines to find him. Gianna killed us both with poisoned cannoli.

My last thought before the darkness took me was regret. Not for dying, but for severing ties with my father, Don Enzo Castellano, all for the sake of marrying Dante Ferrante.

This time, the moment I opened my eyes, I sold the tenement, packed what little money it brought, and set out for the city.

But I was not going to the Ferrante compound.

I told the driver to take the long way around, and the car rolled to a stop before the iron gates of the Castellano estate.

The driver took one look at us, my daughter and me in our threadbare clothes, shuffling toward the Don's gates like a pair of beggars, and let out a snort.

"Takes all kinds. Now even beggars have the nerve to show up at the Don's door claiming to be family."

I ignored him. I took Valentina's small hand in mine, walked to the gate, and knelt.

"Father. Your daughter knows she was wrong."

My father was Don Enzo Castellano, Boss of the oldest and most feared syndicate on the Eastern Seaboard. My mother had been a Montecalvo from the old Sicilian families.

I was born the heir to the Castellano name, raised behind compound walls where men kissed my father's ring before they spoke. Then one autumn, during a drive through the warehouse district near the waterfront, I stumbled upon Dante Ferrante, the castoff second son of the Ferrante family.

His brothers had been tearing each other apart over the family's territory, and he'd nearly been killed in the crossfire. They broke his leg and left him bleeding in a back alley.

I felt sorry for him. So I saved his life.

Then, sharing those long days in a safe house while his bones healed, I fell in love with him.

When I swore I would marry Dante and no one else, my father was furious. His voice went cold as iron.

"If you marry that man, I no longer have a daughter."

Dante swore on his mother's grave he would cherish me for the rest of his life.

I stripped off my silk, left my father's ring on the kitchen table, put on a plain cotton dress, and became his wife.

And over the years, lulled by his sweet words repeated day after day, I withered into a gaunt, hollow-eyed woman in a waterfront tenement, jumping at sirens in the night.

I never imagined that within five or six years, every one of his elder brothers would die in turf wars and Commission purges, and the Ferrante family's contested succession clause would hand Dante the territory on a single condition: claim the dual-bloodline right, and the family was his.

Once the Commission ratified him, he simply slotted Gianna into the role of his wife and raised her children as his own.

By the time I dragged myself to his door, Dante had long since forgotten that my daughter and I existed.

So much so that when we died miserably in my past life, he didn't shed a single tear.

If anything, he was relieved he wouldn't have to write up divorce papers after all.

This time, no matter what it took, I would change my daughter's fate and my own.

Valentina and I knelt at the gates of the Castellano compound. The guards couldn't bear the sight of us and sent word inside five or six times. Two hours later, my father finally came out.

"Reduced to this sorry state, and NOW you remember you have a father?"

He held a walking cane in his hand and raised it as if to strike me. I didn't flinch, didn't move to dodge. Instead, I stepped closer.

"Your daughter knows she was wrong. Beat me, kill me, do whatever you see fit."

"I regret not listening to you back then. I put my trust in the wrong man."

Tears streamed down my father's weathered face. He didn't strike me. He threw the cane to the ground and pulled me to my feet with trembling hands.

"You were so heartless back then. You threw away your own father and your Family for a man. But since you know you were wrong, cut those ties clean and come home where you belong!"

"As long as you sever that cursed bond completely, you are still Serafina Castellano, and this compound is still yours."

He told me to change out of my rags, but I shook my head.

His expression shifted. "Don't tell me you still intend to have dealings with that man?"

I smiled faintly. "He wronged me this deeply. You think I can just turn the page? I need to make him pay first."

That same day, I took Valentina to the Ferrante estate and sent word inside.

"Tell Dante Ferrante his wife has come home."

The soldiers at the gate took one look at my tattered clothes, wrinkled their noses, and moved to shove us back toward the street.

"Where'd you beggars crawl out from? This is the Ferrante house."

"The lady of the house is hosting a banquet for the most powerful families in the city. If you disturb her guests, you and your little brat won't have enough lives to pay for it."

"Go on, get. Get out of here."

I'd expected exactly this. I deliberately stepped back, dropped to my knees, and raised my voice for the whole street to hear.

"Someone help me get justice! Dante Ferrante married me six years ago in a proper ceremony. I bore him a daughter! He promised to bring me back within three years and make me his wife before the Family. But now that he's claimed the Ferrante territory, he left me and my child in a tenement on the waterfront eating scraps! Is that something a human being does?"

The estate sat on a busy street in the old neighborhood, where everyone knew everyone's business. The commotion drew neighbors from every direction, and whispers rippled through the growing crowd.

"They say the new Ferrante Boss is famously devoted to his wife. He's got two children with her and won't even keep a woman on the side. So where did THIS wife come from?"

"Probably a fraud. I mean, look at her. The Ferrante house is connected. She claims to be his wife, but she looks like a beggar off the road. Bet she's just some grifter trying to latch onto a Family name."

I listened without a flicker of emotion, then reached into the bundle I'd brought and pulled out a marriage certificate.

"Take a good look. This is Dante Ferrante's own handwriting. If he refuses to acknowledge me as his wife, I'll take this certificate straight to the Commission and demand justice."

The head steward, lurking in the shadows of the gate, caught a glimpse of the handwriting on the certificate from a distance. His brow furrowed.

He leaned toward the gate soldier. "Stay here and watch her. I'm going in to inform the Boss and the lady of the house."

I saw every bit of it.

Sure enough, before a quarter hour had passed, Dante Ferrante came striding out of the estate, and right behind him, draped in gold and silver, was Gianna Greco.

The steward pointed at me. "Boss, this woman claims to be your wife. If she's a fraud, I'll have her thrown out at once."

Dante looked down at me from the top of the steps. "Lift your head."

I tilted my chin up slowly, the ghost of a smile on my lips.

The moment he saw my face, every drop of color drained from his.

"Serafina, is it really you? What are you doing here?"

He strode over and lowered his voice to a hiss.

"If you wanted to see me, you could have sent word through one of the men. Why make a scene in front of everyone?"

"Besides, I told you in my letters not to come back on your own. When the time was right, I would have sent someone to bring you."

I held my daughter tight and stared at him in cold silence.

Five years apart, and Dante looked even more handsome than before. Younger, somehow.

His suit was cut from fabric that cost more than most men earned in a year, the cufflinks heavy gold, monogrammed with the Ferrante crest he'd stolen.

My daughter and I, by contrast, wore clothes so thin and patched they barely held together. The kind of clothes no one in this compound would use for rags.

"Husband, didn't you promise me yourself? You said within three years, you would send someone to bring me back. It's been five."

Dante's expression darkened, though a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.

"Serafina, I will bring you back. But not now. The house is hosting a sit-down for the Capos and their people. Important guests. Take the child and leave. We'll talk later."

He slipped a thick envelope of cash into my hands, expecting me to take the money, walk away, and pretend we had nothing to do with each other.

I smiled coldly, opened the envelope, and turned it upside down. Bills scattered across the stone steps, caught by the wind, drifting toward the shoes of the soldiers flanking the entrance.

"The head of the Ferrante family has done well for himself. And this is how you dismiss the wife who stood by you when you had nothing? A handful of bills?"

My voice carried just far enough for every soldier and household man within earshot to hear every word. Dante's face went darker still.

He clenched his jaw and leaned in close. "What do you want from me? I said I'd bring you back. Can't you just take the child and wait a little longer? Just until tonight"

I turned away with a cold smile, shifting my daughter in my arms as I walked toward the front doors of the house.

"Our daughter hasn't eaten in three days. I'm afraid she can't wait."

"Tell me, Dante, why are you so desperate to keep your own wife from stepping through the door? Is there something in there you'd rather I not see?"

I knew exactly why Dante didn't want me inside. The private dining room was filled with the most powerful men in the Commission's orbit, and among them sat Rosalia Valenti, wife of the Boss of All Bosses.

Every guest seated comfortably at those tables believed that Gianna Greco, his dead brother's widow, was the rightful lady of the Ferrante household.

A wife appearing out of nowhere was a problem Dante had no idea how to explain.

And that was precisely why I was here. To make sure he couldn't.

Dante stared at me, his face drained of color, scrambling for a way out.

Gianna's eyes darted, and then she stepped forward with a warm smile, reaching for my arm.

"Sister-in-law, what are you saying? You're Dante's wife, which makes you family. You and the child arrived so suddenly that Dante was simply overwhelmed with joy and didn't know what to say. He would never hide anything from you!"

She tried to steer me toward a side room off the main hall.

I pulled my arm free. "You must be the elder sister-in-law."

Gianna's smile froze for a heartbeat before she forced it back into place with a nod. Her fingers drifted to the hollow of her throat, a gesture so practiced it looked like modesty. It wasn't.

In my previous life, I had pitied Gianna for losing her husband so young. I never thought to guard myself against her. So when she led me to that side room and offered me cannoli from a silver tray, I never once suspected her intentions.

I had no idea that the poison in those cannoli was what killed my daughter and me. And the hand that placed it there was Gianna's.

"I think I'll skip the side room. Didn't my husband just mention there's a sit-down going on? My daughter and I are starving. We'll eat there. And while we're at it, my husband can introduce us to everyone."

"Serafina!"

Dante's voice dropped to a sharp growl. "You want to walk into that room dressed like that? You'd humiliate the entire Ferrante name on purpose?"

"At least change your clothes first. Gianna, would you take her to"

Dante froze the moment the words left his mouth. When I said nothing, he rushed to explain.

"Serafina, don't misunderstand. Gianna is the only family I have left in this house. I think of her as my own sister. That's why I call her that."

"There is absolutely nothing between us!"

His frantic explanation only made my stomach turn.

I would never forget what I saw in the moments before I died.

Gianna had wept and lied, claiming that my daughter and I had been greedy and eaten cannoli laced with poison by mistake, and that was how we'd died.

Dante hadn't shed a single tear for us. Instead, his face had softened with tenderness as he pulled Gianna into his arms, slipped the clothes from her shoulders, and held her close.

He kissed the tears from her cheeks, murmuring comfort.

"Dead is dead. Even if she hadn't died, I would've had the union annulled in a few days anyway."

"For years now, the only people in my heart have been you and the two children. There's no room for anyone else, and I won't let anyone disturb our life in this house."

From that moment on, everything I'd ever felt for him was gone.

Gianna brought me back out once I'd changed. Dante was crouching in front of Valentina. "Don't you remember your father?"

Valentina stared at him in terror, shrinking back step by step, then ran to me and clung to my leg. Both small fists gripped the fabric of my skirt, but she didn't make a sound.

"She was only a few months old when you left. You didn't come back for five years. How would she possibly remember you?"

Valentina was only five, but with the grime washed from her face, she looked like a little porcelain doll.

Dante scooped her up and tried to coax her. "Be a good girl, Valentina. Say 'Papa.' I'm your papa."

She only found him strange. Her small lips pressed into a thin line as she studied him with wide, cautious eyes.

He hadn't raised her. After a few more attempts with no response, his patience ran out.

"Serafina, you've come and you've been seen. When are you planning to go back?"

I stared at him, stunned. Then I laughed.

"You mean you want me to take our daughter back to that miserable tenement and keep waiting, day after day, for you to come get us?"

Dante's brow furrowed, a shadow of irritation crossing his face.

"I told you, when the time is right I'll bring you both home. The time isn't right yet."

"I know this place looks grand, but there are a lot of people living here. There really isn't a spare room for you and Valentina. Once the guesthouse wing is finished, I'll send for you..."

I cut him off, my voice flat and cold. "Give it up."

"My daughter and I have stripped nearly every scrap of food from that neighborhood. Then the waterfront flooded, and even the dockworkers can't find a meal. We were on the verge of starving to death. I wouldn't take her back to that place if you made me a servant in this house."

It was laughable, really. The Ferrante compound had rooms enough for a small army, crawling with soldiers and household staff.

And Dante claimed he couldn't spare a single room for his own wife and daughter. Did he truly think I was that stupid?

In my last life, I never told him, not even on my deathbed, that my father was Don Enzo Castellano.

I had believed that standing by love meant something. That my devotion proved my worth.

In the end, I was nothing but a joke to them.

Five years rotting in that tenement on the wrong side of the waterfront, and none of it had mattered at all.

Dante's face went white. "What are you talking about? You were scrounging for food? I had money sent to you every month. Enough to live well."

I stared at him. "When did you ever send money?"

"In five years, all I received were your letters every few days. Not a single coin."

Dante whipped around, his eyes locking on Gianna.

Gianna's eyes reddened on cue. "Dear sister-in-law, you don't actually think I'm the one who withheld your allowance, do you?"

"I'll send someone to look into it right now. Whichever wretched little runner skimmed that money and pocketed it will answer for it."

She hurried off with her maid in tow. Half an hour later, she returned and had a scrawny young girl dragged before me, bound at the wrists and trembling so hard her knees knocked together.

"Sister-in-law, it was this worthless thing all along! She stole every dollar Dante sent you, month after month, to pay for her mother's hospital bills. I'll have the boys deal with her right here. Consider it justice served."

"That won't be necessary."

My voice was ice. Even I wasn't foolish enough to miss it. The girl was skin and bone, a scapegoat shoved forward to take the fall.

I turned to carry my daughter toward the private dining room where the Commission banquet was being held, but behind me, Gianna flicked a glance at her children.

In the next instant, her son and daughter charged at us, stones already in their fists, hurling them straight at my head.

"You evil woman! You're trying to steal our daddy! In your dreams!"

"Beat her dead! Don't you dare bully our mommy or take our daddy away!"

Stone after stone flew at us. I twisted to shield Valentina, but one rock caught her square on the forehead. Blood poured down instantly.

Valentina wailed, her small body shaking with sobs. The two brats grinned at the sight and scooped up more stones, throwing harder.

I turned and fixed them with a stare cold enough to freeze marrow. "Do you want to die?"

Both children flinched. They scrambled behind Dante, clutching his collar and whimpering.

"Daddy, that woman said she's going to kill us!"

Dante dropped to his knees at once, pulling them close, murmuring comfort. When he finally looked up at me, his brows were knotted with fury.

"Serafina, are you done making a scene?"

"Since the moment you set foot in this house, you've turned the whole place upside down. Take your daughter and get out of here!"

Valentina's forehead was split open. Blood ran down past her eye, tracing a thin red line along her cheek. Dante didn't spare her a single glance.

He only had arms for the two children in Gianna's brood.

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, clutched my daughter tight, and charged toward the banquet hall, screaming at the top of my lungs:

"A doctor! Is there a doctor here?!"

Dante's head snapped up. He lunged to stop me.

"Serafina! Who do you think you are, making a scene in front of the Family's physician?! Don't you dare!"

He clamped a hand over my mouth. His men grabbed for Valentina, trying to pry her from my arms and drag her away. She was already gasping between sobs, and now their hands smothered her mouth and nose. Her face went from red to a mottled purple.

I stopped thinking. I sank my teeth into Dante's hand until I tasted blood.

Then I broke free and ran, stumbling into the banquet hall where the Commission's guests sat with their drinks half-raised, locking onto that one familiar figure, and screamed:

"Marco Lombardi! You're the Family's doctor! Save my daughter!"

Marco spun around. His eyes went wide, shock and disbelief tangled together, and then something fierce and bright broke through. Joy. Raw, unguarded joy.

"You're alive?"

He rushed to me. His hands went to his sleeves, rolling them to the forearm with two precise folds, automatic, clinical. On the second fold, his fingers trembled. Then he reached for Valentina, pressing his hands to the wound to stanch the bleeding.

The commotion reached the far end of the room where the head table was set. Rosalia Valenti tilted her head, her gaze drifting down toward the disturbance.

"Who was that woman just now? Her voice sounds so familiar."

Dante stepped forward and bowed low, his answer quick and smooth:

"Donna Valenti, it's nothing. Just a servant from the household. A maid, that's all."

That was when I laughed. A short, cold sound. I pulled the marriage certificate from inside my coat and dropped to my knees.

"Donna Valenti. I am no maid. I am Serafina Castellano, daughter of Don Enzo Castellano. And I am here to beg the Commission's blessing for an annulment of my blood-bound union with Dante Ferrante."