The Daughter He Left Out

My father, a Mafia don, divided everything equally between my brother and sister. I was his daughter too, but I got their dirty clothes, their dangerous errands, and the blame whenever they fought. He called it fairness. Now he'd frozen my accounts, and all I had left to pay for my escape was an old necklace.

My phone lost its signal as I walked back to my room. I was still trying to get it to connect when the butler came in.

He looked at me and sighed.

"Miss Claire, the Don asked me to tell you that this month's accounts are still being sorted out. You're not allowed to withdraw any money."

I lowered the phone.

"The profits are to be divided equally between your brother and sister," he continued. "If you take anything, it will upset the balance."

My hands began to shake. The same question came to me before I could stop it.

What about me?

Marco, Bianca, and I were all his children. Yet whenever Father divided the family's money, there were only two shares.

"All right," I told the butler. "Thank you for letting me know."

I'd asked that question too many times already. No one had ever given me an answer that made room for me.

After he left, I checked the cards in my name. Father had frozen every one of them.

I searched my room for something I could sell. At the back of a drawer, I found a necklace I hadn't worn in years. I slipped it into my pocket. Tomorrow, I would pawn it for travel money.

Then I lay down on the bed. I hadn't meant to cry, but once I started, I couldn't stop.

I finally fell asleep, only to be jolted awake by tires screeching outside.

Voices carried up from the driveway. Father and my older siblings were coming back to the estate, arguing as they walked.

My door flew open. Bianca marched to the bed and threw a bundle of muddy jackets in my face.

"Get these to the laundry room."

Mud stuck in my hair. I pushed the clothes off me and struggled to sit up.

"It's the middle of the night. Can't I wash them in the morning?"

"If you don't want to do it, say so. Don't make excuses."

Marco came in behind her and kicked two boxes of beat-up gear over to the bed.

"Do mine when you're finished with hers. We got ambushed while we were checking the territory. That's what was left after the shooting. Get rid of it."

Before I could answer, Father appeared in the doorway with a cigar between his teeth. He glanced at the clothes on my lap.

"The Valenti family treats everyone fairly," he said. "Your brother and sister put their lives on the line for us. Why should you sit at home doing nothing?"

"I only asked—"

"You can't even clean up after them without complaining. How is that fair?"

I looked from him to the boxes on the floor. Money and territory were always split between Marco and Bianca. When there was work neither of them wanted, I counted as family again.

There was no point arguing. I gathered the jackets and took them downstairs.

After I finished the laundry, I loaded the boxes into one of the cars. Marco wanted the damaged gear destroyed off our turf, so I drove out alone.

As I pulled away, a message from Maya finally came through on my phone.

"Claire, I'll pick you up on Maple Avenue in three days. Keep your phone on."

I tried to reply, but the screen froze. I tapped it again, then set the phone aside before I could lose my temper with it.

By the time I reached the outskirts, the road was deserted. I slowed down and looked for a place to pull over.

A black sedan appeared in my rearview mirror.

I recognized the car. It belonged to the family that had ambushed Marco and Bianca. They were still in the area.

The first shot struck the door.

I ducked as more bullets hit the car. Glass burst inward, and something tore past my face.

The bullet grazed my cheek and buried itself in the back seat.