Chapter 1

The cold of the Hudson River was the last thing I remembered. Water filling my lungs, the city lights blurring above. Betrayal. That was the taste in my mouth, sharper than the river's chill. Marco, my brother, his face a mask of false concern. Alexander, my fiancé, his eyes cold as he slipped my family's tiara onto *her* head. Rick, my protector, his hand steady as he offered *her* the patriarch's ring. Katherine. The maid.

They'd said I was a target. That the party, my 25th birthday where I'd be named heir to the Corleone family, was too dangerous for me to be seen. So Katherine, little Kitty Perez, would stand in. For my safety.

I'd believed them.

Then I saw her, dripping in my legacy, one arm linked with Alexander, the other hand caressing Marco, then Rick. My questions were met with her poisonous smile. And then Antonio Perez, my mother's most trusted man, his voice flat, ordered my legs and arms broken. Dragged to the old wine cellar. Starved. Then the river.

I gasped, the phantom water receding. My penthouse suite. Sunlight streamed through the window, glinting off the crystal glass in my hand. Today. It was all happening again. My birthday. The party.

The door opened. Marco.

"Ava, you ready? Alexander is here. And, well, we need to talk about security."

His voice, so earnest. Liar.

I followed him out. In the grand salon, Alexander stood, impeccable in his suit. And beside him, Katherine. A seamstress was adjusting a tiara on Katherine's head. My tiara. The Corleone Eye diamond, winking like a malevolent star. Rick stood nearby, holding the patriarch's ring on a velvet cushion.

My breath caught. It was starting.

No. Not this time.

Rick moved to place the ring on Katherine's finger.

I moved faster.

A side kick, clean and hard, caught Rick in the ribs. He flew back, slamming into a gilded console table, a grunt of pain tearing from him. The ring skittered across the marble floor.

Katherine shrieked. Alexander spun, his face contorted in shock. Marco froze.

I ignored them. I walked to the center of the room, dragged a heavy velvet armchair from against the wall, and sat.

I crossed my legs, smoothing my dress.

Then I looked at them, one by one.

"Do you all still recognize me?" I asked, my voice calm, too calm.

"Ava Corleone?"

A beat of silence.

"Then surely you haven't forgotten. I am Ava Corleone. Victoria Corleone's only daughter."

"The sole heir to the Corleone family."

"And the true fucking star of this party."

The seamstress gasped, backing away. Katherine, bless her black heart, immediately began to sob, clutching Alexander's arm.

"Alex, she's... she's lost her mind!"

Alexander stepped forward, his face flushed with anger. "Ava! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Marco finally found his voice, his tone hardening. "This isn't a game, Ava. You're going to ruin everything. You're putting yourself in danger."

Danger. I almost laughed.

Last time, they'd convinced me. My mother, Victoria, had been "attacked" a week prior – a convenient coma that left me vulnerable. They said our enemies were closing in, that I needed to lay low. Let Katherine, renamed "Angelina Corleone" for the occasion, be the decoy. I agreed. Only to walk in on the three of them with her, tangled together in my own damn suite, hours before the party. When I confronted them, their solution was the wine cellar. And the river.