MAFIA'S RELUCTANT EMPRESS

SOPHIA.

I finished my Advanced Economic Theory class feeling satisfied. My students were finally getting the complicated interplay between game theory and real-world market behaviors, which I had spent years researching for my dissertation.

"Professor Ricci?" Jason, one of my most promising students, approached my desk as the others exited. "That connection you made between game theory and cartel pricing strategies was fascinating."

"Thank you, Jason." I smiled as I packed my laptop. "Remember, understanding power dynamics in markets helps predict outcomes, whether we're talking about corporations or countries."

The irony was not lost on me. I'd spent my whole adult life shunning my family's particular expertise in "power dynamics," but here I was, teaching the theoretical framework that my father used in considerably fewer academic settings.

When I looked at my phone, my stomach constricted. Three missed calls from my father. No messages. That was not like him.

At twenty-seven, I'd carefully drawn boundaries between Dr. Sophia Ricci, a distinguished economics professor, and Sophia Ricci, the daughter of Antonio Ricci, the most powerful man in Chicago's underworld. Those barriers had served me well, preserving my professional reputation free of my family name's more notorious associations.

I called him back as I walked across campus, fall leaves crunching beneath my feet.

"Sophia." His voice had that unmistakable blend of warmth and steel that I'd grown up with-the sound that could console a child while still commanding a room full of dangerous warriors. "I need you in the house tonight. "It is seven o'clock."

"Dad, I have a faculty dinner-"

"Cancel it." The demand was followed by something rarer: a softening. Please, Piccola. It's important." Concern grew when I stopped walking. My father never spoke in that tone unless something big had occurred. The last time was when my mother died.

"Is everything okay?"

"We'll speak to it tonight. "Come alone and don't tell anyone."

The call stopped before I could react. I stood motionless beneath a maple tree, its leaves glowing scarlet against the gloomy Chicago sky.

My phone rang with a text message from my cousin Bianca: Did Uncle Antonio contact you too? What's happening?

Before I could react, I received another message from an unknown number: the professor should remain in her classroom. The actual world is becoming increasingly perilous for everyone named Ricci.

I deleted it right away, scrutinizing the quadrant around me. Nothing seemed out of place amid the kids rushing to their next lessons, but then I felt exposed. I felt vulnerable in ways I hadn't felt since deciding to prioritize academics over familial commitments.

I'd spent years creating this life-this persona distinct from my father's world. Whatever was going on, I wasn't going to let it break the barriers I had painstakingly built. But as I moved quickly toward the faculty parking lot, I couldn't resist the feeling that those barriers were already collapsing.

ANTONIO.

I signed the final document in slow strokes, mindful of my attorney's nervous movements beside me. The Ricci family business's succession plans, both legitimate and otherwise,

-have now been officially revised.

"Are you certain about this, Antonio?" Lorenzo looked anxiously at the door and lowered his voice.

"Vincent has been expecting-"

"My brother has expectations. "I have plans." I sealed the envelope that contained my will. "This family requires an intellect, not just muscles Sophia has both."

"She's intentionally kept herself separate from the family business."

I grinned, remembering how Sophia, even as a child, questioned everything and refused to accept easy explanations. "My daughter believes that knowledge of economic theory and a PhD protects her from who we are. She's about to realize that blood is the most powerful heritage.

I handed the envelope to Lorenzo and checked my watch. The family would convene soon to hear an announcement concerning the future. They would be astonished, and many would be outraged. Vincent certainly would.

My private line rang-a number that only three individuals had. "She's not ready," the voice said without greeting.

From my study window, I looked out and saw the Chicago skyline. The metropolis that had been Ricci territory for three generations stretched before me, dazzling and oblivious to the power movements taking place behind closed doors.

"None of us were prepared. But she will adjust, just as we all did."

"You're making a mistake that could destroy "everything"

Or save it," I replied. "The old ways are coming to an end." "We need new ideas."

"New thinking kills old families. There is already movement from the Salvatores. Their territorial expansions are not coincidental. "

My fingers curled around the phone. Dominick Salvatore had been unusually quiet lately, which was often a sign of anxiety from my longest competitor.

"How reliable is this information?"

"Enough that you should postpone tonight's announcement. Someone inside your organization is speaking with them.

" I ended the call by pressing a button on my desk. Marco, who had been my most trusted bodyguard for fifteen years, appeared instantly.

"Come get me, Sophia.

Now."After he went, I opened my safe and took out a leather ledger-the real record of the Ricci empire, not the sanitized version my commanders saw. The names, accounts, and ties that made up Chicago's genuine power structure. Information that had the potential to murder individuals had already done so.

My daughter would need this information to go through what was coming.

I had one night to prepare Sophia for a conflict she had no idea was coming, against opponents she was unaware she had. Perhaps,

Someone she trusted.

When Sophia called back to confirm her attendance at dinner. I placed the ledger in my desk drawer and locked it.

"Good," I told her. "There's something you need to know about your inheritance."