The 99th Betrayal: The Unloved Mafia Daughter

Ninety-nine. That's how many times my family chose my sister over my life. The final time was three hours ago, on the exact day I was supposed to step out of the shadows and be inducted as the syndicate's first female Consigliere.

I was locked in our underground vault, choking on my own blood, while they hosted a lavish graduation party for Camilla upstairs. Out of everyone, only Julian—my fiancé—answered my Code Red distress call.

"Val, stop making a scene," he sighed, the sound of popping champagne echoing in the background. "Cami's party is a big deal to the Don. Don't be so unreasonable and ruin her night."

So, I didn't. I died quietly in the dark. Right now, they assume I'm hiding in a safehouse, playing some manipulative game for attention. They have no idea they are partying right on top of my corpse.

Valeria

Midnight. My ghost slipped free from the freezing vault.

The heavy oak door to my office kicked open. Dante, my brother and the family's top Capo, stormed in. Finding the room dark and empty, he rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Still playing hide-and-seek, Val? Grow up."

Normally, I'd bite back. Tonight, I just stood beside him, a voiceless shadow.

Dante dialed my number. Straight to voicemail. Jaw clenching, he flipped open the black ledger on my desk. There were no financial records inside. Just a single number scrawled on the first page: 99.

The exact tally of their betrayals.

Missing the point entirely, Dante threw the book on the floor and barked a voicemail. "Drop this psycho act. Cami wants those espresso martinis you make. Get upstairs in one hour, or I'll let the Don handle you."

He pocketed his phone and walked back to the grand foyer.

"Not answering," Dante reported to our parents. "Total radio silence. It's her classic playbook. She wants us to panic."

"We gave her too much leash," Victor, our father, grunted, blowing out a cloud of thick cigar smoke. "Nobody calls her. Let her sit in the dark to learn a lesson. She'll get back in line by tomorrow."

Camilla glided over, hooking her arm through Victor's. "Papa, don't say that." She widened her eyes, faking a look of pure, innocent panic. "What if something actually happened? Let me text her. You know how close we are."

She stared at the floor, playing the helpless victim to a tee.

I hovered over her shoulder, watching her thumbs fly across the screen.

[Hope those cartel junkies sliced you up good. Who're you screwing tonight? Btw, the party is flawless. Thanks for not showing up. Be a dear and just drop dead.]

She paused. Then, she deleted the venom, character by character. Slipping her saintly mask right back on, she typed:

[Val, are you okay? We're so worried. If you're mad at us, take it out on me. Please, just come home.]

She showed her phone screen to the room. The perfect, loving sister.

My mother pulled Camilla into a tight hug. "You have such a good heart, Cami. This isn't your fault. Your sister just doesn't know her place."

My place?

I let out a bitter, silent laugh. To them, Camilla was the sun. Did anyone even remember today was my Commission ceremony? An honor they only handed out once a decade. Knowing they wanted to celebrate Camilla, I had quietly told them to skip my induction. I never tried to compete for their love.

But right as I was about to leave the house to claim my seat, the basement door was breached. Three cartel hitmen dragged me into the money vault.

"How did you bypass the biometric lock?" I gasped, terrified.

The lead hitman smirked, twirling an electronic key fob on his finger. Camilla's fob.

"Save your breath, accountant," he sneered. "You ain't leaving this basement today."

"I won't tell anyone," I begged, my voice cracking. "Please, I have money... just... please don't kill me. I'm begging you."

They ignored me. They pinned me to the freezing concrete, tearing at my clothes and beating me mercilessly. As I sobbed, they flashed their cameras at my bleeding face, spitting trash at me. Proof of my destruction for my sweet little sister.

I fought back blindly. In the chaos, they slammed my skull violently against the sharp edge of the steel desk.

Blood erupted. Spooked by the fatal mistake, the thugs bolted, slamming the heavy vault door and leaving me to bleed out.

My arms were broken, useless. Running on pure adrenaline and despair, I dragged my shattered body across the floor. I used my bloody nose to tap the screen of the emergency phone.

Every made man in the family should feel a Code Red in their gut. But my family thought I was just throwing a fit.

They actually locked me out of the system. An automated text flashed: [Stop faking. The Don and I don't have time for this bullshit. Clearance cut.]

Only Julian, my fiancé, picked up his line.

"Help me... Jules," I wheezed, blood filling my lungs. "I'm dying."

His voice cut like a razor. "Val, don't make a big deal out of nothing! There's a limit to this attention-seeking routine. Today is Cami's big day. I told you I'll buy you a nice gift to make up for missing your little ceremony!"

But... Jules. I really am dying.

A grim smile touched my lips. Too bad. You'll never get the chance to buy that gift now.

Within twenty-four hours, the time-lock on that vault would pop. The sweet smell of Camilla's perfume in this mansion would be replaced by the stench of rotting flesh.

She always told her friends she wished I was dead so nobody would compete for their love.

Well, congratulations, little sister. Your wish just came true.