Emily POV
Gwen’s dark look at the rusted metal shifted into a frantic, calculating gleam. She realized the weapon she now held in me.
"We are holding the Family Coffee," she declared, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and newfound resolve. "If the estate finds out Jacob spent his wedding night at his underground base instead of your bed, the West Wing will be a laughingstock. We need to show them a united front."
Minutes later, Gwen dragged Al and me through the sprawling corridors to The Elder's Suite. Fronnie, Exa’s stone-faced Enforcer Maid, blocked the heavy oak doors before reluctantly letting us in.
Exa was just finishing her morning prayers. She didn't bother to rise, her sharp, cloudy eyes cutting straight to Gwen. "A Don who flees to his soldiers on his wedding night speaks volumes," Exa sneered, her voice like dry leaves. "But to maintain the Collins' facade before the Commission, I will host this ritual. Just remember, Gwen—never complain to me about my favoritism toward the Main Branch again."
Gwen swallowed her rage, nodding stiffly.
By the time we relocated to The Grand Parlor, the air was suffocating with expensive perfume and silent judgment. The core women of the family were gathered, waiting for blood.
When Kiana approached me, the room held its breath. Jacob’s infamous mistress stood tall, her striking features radiating arrogance. I maintained a perfect, aristocratic smile and offered her a custom silk scarf. Instead of the explosive tantrum everyone expected, Kiana accepted it obediently, handing me a small brooch in return. We didn't exchange a single word. She didn't need to insult me—in her mind, Jacob’s absence last night proved I was nothing but a neglected collateral. She thought she had already won.
I excused myself to the Estate Kitchens to prepare the final offering.
When I returned half an hour later, the parlor was thick with tension. I later learned that Julianne, my ambitious widowed sister-in-law, had tried to mock my "illness" and the delayed ritual. But Gwen, fueled by our new alliance, had viciously invoked Diana Rodriguez’s name. *The Commission ordained this Mafia Queen,* Gwen had snapped, using the ultimate authority of the Capo dei Capi's wife to choke Julianne into pale-faced submission.
I approached Exa’s velvet high-back chair, carrying a silver platter.
"A traditional Sicilian Cassata, Elder," I murmured. As I leaned in to serve her, my fingers brushed the hidden underside of her heavy wooden table for just a fraction of a second.
Exa took a delicate bite. She froze.
For three agonizing seconds, the cloudy film over Exa’s eyes vanished, replaced by a raw, naked bloodlust. She stared at me as if deciding how to dispose of my corpse. I held her gaze, my smile serene and entirely unyielding. The faint, unmistakable scent of bitter almond extract lingered between us—the exact, untraceable poison Exa had used to assassinate a rival Capo decades ago. My grandfather’s intelligence network was flawless.
Exa swallowed. The murderous glint vanished behind a mask of grandmotherly warmth.
"Exquisite," she announced, her voice echoing through the silent parlor. "Emily is the undisputed Mafia Queen of this family. Her authority over the estate's internal affairs is absolute."
Julianne turned ashen. Kiana’s smug smile shattered into pure panic. Al Collins narrowed his eyes, sensing the invisible blade I held to his mother’s throat.
After the ritual concluded, I walked back with my in-laws through the dim West Wing Corridor.
"You did well," Gwen whispered nervously, glancing around to ensure we were alone. "Now, give me back the emerald bracelet. It’s registered in the Main Estate’s ledger. If Exa finds out I gifted it without her permission, I’ll face severe Family Law."
I paused, my fingers lightly tracing the cold, heavy stones on my wrist. I looked at Gwen, letting her own words hang in the air. She had just handed me the loaded gun.
"Return it?" I asked softly, my voice dripping with innocent confusion. "But Gwen, the Elder was so fond of me today. I plan to visit The Elder's Suite quite often to pay my respects. I’m sure she will admire this beautiful heirloom on my wrist."
Gwen’s breath hitched. The color drained from her face as the realization hit her.
Al let out a low, defeated sigh beside her. "She has a direct line to the Elder now, Gwen," he murmured, his eyes fixed on me with a new, wary respect. "And she’s wearing the physical evidence of your treason."
I offered them a flawless curtsy and turned away, the emeralds heavy and secure on my wrist, as I made my way up to the Master Suite.
