Taking Back the Throne I Gave You

My younger sister was tortured to the brink of death by the young heir of a newly minted mafia family.

His older sister stood on her high horse and threw a check at me.

"Take this half a million, grab your half-dead sister, and get the hell out of New York."

I tore the check into shreds and screamed at her, "In your dreams! I want him dead!"

She let out a contemptuous scoff.

"Around here, my family is the law! Half a million is enough for bottom-feeders like you to scrape by for three lifetimes. If it's not enough, consider it money for a nice cemetery plot. How about I throw in another two million?"

As she spoke, she raised her hand, flaunting it. "Otherwise... take a good look at this signet ring. Who exactly do you think you're talking to?"

My eyes locked onto the ring on her finger. The ancient crest engraved on the gold was all too familiar—it was the custom wedding gift I had commissioned for my mafia boss husband ten years ago.

Instantly, my glare turned absolutely lethal.

"I said, I want your brother's life."

......

The attending physician had showed me the medical report: severe multiple fractures, profound vaginal tearing causing massive hemorrhage, and varying degrees of internal organ failure.

My little sister, Lucia. Today was her nineteenth birthday.

Just three hours ago, she was laughing on the phone, promising to bring me the best apple pie in Queens after her party.

Now, her fate was hanging by a thread. Her frail body was woven with a chaotic web of tubes, relying entirely on machines to maintain a fading heartbeat.

"Who did this?" My voice was so ragged it didn't even sound human.

The doctor didn't answer. He simply cast a terrified glance down the hallway.

I followed his gaze. In the VIP lounge area, a young man was sprawled casually across a leather sofa, aggressively mashing the buttons of a handheld gaming console. His clothes were still stained with droplets of Lucia's blood.

Dante. The name was infamous among the rising nouveau riche circles of the underworld.

"Fuck, lost again." Dante slammed the console onto the coffee table in frustration and glanced up, catching my eye.

He harbored zero remorse. Instead, his lips twisted into a nauseating grin. "Oh, the family's here? Hey, don't give me that look. Little bitch just didn't know how to play. I only had a few of the boys run a train on her for three rounds. How was I supposed to know she was fragile enough to jump out a third-story window? You can't put all that on me. Gotta say though, she dressed like trash, but her skin was real soft."

The final thread of my sanity snapped. I charged at him like a rabid animal, desperate to wrap my bare hands around his throat, ready to tear out his windpipe with my teeth if I had to.

But before I could even close the distance, two black-suited bodyguards materialized like a brick wall in front of me. One of them mercilessly raised a massive leg and planted a brutal kick directly into my stomach.

Blinding pain exploded through me. I flew backward, crashing hard against the floor.

The sharp clicking of stiletto heels echoed down the hall as a woman in a custom trench coat approached.

She pulled off her sunglasses, revealing a face that resembled Dante's, though hardened by an unbridled arrogance. Valeria. Dante's older sister.

"Finally you're here, sis. This bitch is rabid," Dante whined lazily.

Valeria walked straight up to where I was curled on the floor.

"So, you're the college girl's older sister? I heard about what happened. The boys just played a little too rough. Consider this an apology on Dante's behalf."

She was breathtakingly arrogant, treating her absolute cruelty as a matter of right.

Gritting my teeth against the agonizing cramps in my abdomen, I dragged myself off the floor and locked eyes with her. "I want him dead."

Valeria looked as though she had just heard a fantastic joke, her lips curling into a deeply contemptuous sneer.

She pulled out a pre-written check. "Let's not waste each other's time. Here is half a million dollars. More than enough to keep bottom-feeders like you comfortable for three lifetimes."

With violently trembling hands, I tore the check into shreds and smashed the confetti into her face.

"I don't need your money. I just want your brother dead!"

"You ungrateful whore!" Valeria's expression instantly darkened. She stepped into my personal space, her red-manicured finger stopping millimeters from my nose. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Do you think this is a courtroom where you get to argue for justice? My brother taking an interest in your sister was an honor! She didn't know her place, and now she pays the toll!"

Down the hall, the nurses and doctors shrank back against the walls, trembling like leaves, too terrified to make a sound.

Even the attending physician was furiously wiping cold sweat from his brow, whispering a plea in my direction, "The lady is right... You can't fight them. They have massive backing. Take the cash, transfer her to another hospital, and don't throw your own life away."

Valeria disgustedly brushed the shredded paper from her face, her eyes dripping with sarcasm.

"Looking at your cheap clothes, I'm guessing your family barely scrapes by."

"Take this money, pack up your half-dead sister, and get the hell out of New York. If she dies, use it to buy a nice burial plot; if she somehow survives, it's enough to keep you both alive. To cover the medical bills, I'll even throw in another two million. How about that?"

"This is my charity, and your sheer dumb luck. What more could you possibly want? Don't be a greedy bitch. Are we clear?"

My gaze seethed with an endless, murderous hatred.

"Your brother kidnapped my sister, had her gang-raped, tortured her, and drove her out of a window! He belongs in purgatory for the rest of his miserable life!"

Valeria feigned a dramatic gasp before letting out a sharp laugh.

She raised her hand, proudly flaunting the gold signet ring.

"Having absolute power silences everything else. Do you know what this is? It's the ultimate symbol of New York's underworld royalty. It represents a reality you couldn't even dream of."

Looking at the familiar, intricate crest engraved on that gold ring, my blood-boiling fury suddenly plummeted into a freezing, dark abyss.

That was the custom wedding gift I had commissioned for my mafia boss husband, Lorenzo!

Ten years ago, the inaugural Godfather of the New York underworld—my father—gripped my hand on his deathbed.

Terrified that my sister and I would meet the same gruesome end as our mother, who was assassinated by rivals, he begged me to find a proxy to rule in my stead.

So, I placed the crown on my husband Lorenzo's head.

I transformed myself into a gentle housewife whose biggest worry was what to cook for dinner.

To ensure Lucia would have a normal life, I moved her to a quiet, middle-class neighborhood and entirely buried our family's terrifying legacy.

I truly believed that by stepping back, my sister and I had bought our peace.

But I was wrong.

I stared intently at Valeria. My eyes were now the dead, hollow voids of an executioner, and my voice was absolute ice.

"I said... I want your brother's life."