A Crown of Ash and Roses

On the eve of the takeover of Leo's territory, I held a funeral for my daughter.

But the whispers in the underworld had already turned against me.

Overnight, all proof of my daughter's murder was erased.

A cold-blooded murder was twisted into a tragic accident, spun as a result of my own mental instability and neglect.

"I always knew Elena was ruthless, but to be so careless with her own daughter..."

"She can't even watch her own kid, and now she's trying to frame poor Sofia? The woman's insane."

"I heard Don Moretti dropped it, but she won't let it go. What, is she looking for a payout?"

"Like mother, like daughter. If you ask me, the kid had it coming."

The accusations followed me everywhere.

A mob appeared out of nowhere, trashing the memorial hall. They spray-painted the most vile, insulting words imaginable on my daughter's tombstone.

I clung to her urn for dear life, but I was no match for them.

The gunshot wound in my abdomen ripped open, fresh blood soaking through the gauze.

The urn was torn from my grasp and smashed against the ground. Her ashes spilled across the dirt, immediately trampled into a slurry of mud and footprints.

Throughout it all, the Moretti family bodyguards stood and watched. They had their orders from Vincent. They watched with cold indifference as I fought and failed alone.

A gust of wind scattered what was left.

The last trace of my daughter in this world was gone.

I collapsed, every ounce of strength drained from my body.

The day of the accident, she had gone to buy my favorite cake.

"Mamma," she'd said, "I'm going to buy you a little cake. You'll feel all better after you eat it."

Her small face was so serious. "And if Mamma is happy, Papa will come home to us more. He won't go see that bad auntie anymore."

Her voice echoed in the ruins of my mind.

God, how I hated them.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

Vincent approached, his custom Italian leather shoes leaving fresh prints in the soil that held my daughter's ashes.

"Tomorrow, I'm hosting a reception for Sofia. I'm officially recognizing her as my sworn sister."

"You, as the Donna of the Moretti family, will attend and offer a formal apology to Sofia and your future 'brother-in-law.' You will promise to never speak of this again."

My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood.

"And if I refuse?"

Vincent smiled, a calm, condescending look as he gazed down at me.

"Elena, we came out of Sicily together. You know what I'm capable of. If I recall, our old godfather, Marco, is still in that nursing home out in the suburbs, isn't he?"