GRACE POV
I didn't sleep after reading the contract message.
Sleeping meant vulnerability. Meant someone could walk into my room and finish what my brothers started. In the mafia world, the moment you inherited power was the moment everyone you trusted became a potential killer.
I spent the morning moving through Father's journals like they were battle plans. Because that's exactly what they were. Twelve years of strategy condensed into three leather books. Names of allies who could be bought. Enemies who could be manipulated. Board members who valued profit over loyalty.
Every page revealed something new about the empire I'd inherited. We didn't just run traditional operations. We owned judges. Controlled police precincts. Had politicians in our pocket across three states. The Morgan family wasn't just a crime organization. We were a shadow government that operated while everyone else pretended we didn't exist.
Father had written detailed assessments of each board member.
Carlo Rossini: Controls drug trafficking. Motivated by money above all else. Can be bought if the price is right. Weakness: gambling addiction his wife doesn't know about.
James Sullivan: Manages the protection rackets. Ex-military. Respects strength and strategy. Can be convinced if you prove tactical superiority. Weakness: daughter with medical bills he can't afford.
Anthony DeLuca: Runs the gambling operations. Traditional. Believes women belong at home, not running empires. Will oppose you on principle. Weakness: affair with his accountant that could destroy his marriage.
Seven board members. Seven men who controlled billions in illegal operations. Seven potential enemies or allies depending on how smart I played this.
The last entry in Father's journal was dated three days before his death.
"Grace, if you're reading this, then the heart medication I've been taking was tampered with. I've known for weeks that someone was trying to kill me. I didn't stop them because my death is the only way to transfer power to you without a war. The board won't accept you while I'm alive. But once I'm dead, the will is law."
My hands shook. Father had known someone was poisoning him. He'd let it happen. He'd sacrificed himself to give me this empire.
"Don't trust your brothers. Vincent Jr. is working with Carlo Rossini to take power. Michael is too unstable to plan long-term, but he'll follow whoever promises him violence. Don't trust the board until you've proven your worth. And don't trust anyone who tells you they're on your side without demanding something in return."
"The only person you can trust completely is Tommy Vega. He owes me a blood debt I never collected. He'll protect you because protecting you protects my legacy. Use him wisely."
"You have two weeks to prove yourself. After that, they'll move against you. I've left you everything you need to survive. The question is whether you're brave enough to use it."
I closed the journal and stood. My reflection stared back from the window. Twenty-six years old. Dark hair pulled back. Eyes that looked older than they should. I looked exactly like my mother, which is probably why Father could barely stand to look at me after she died.
She'd been the moral center of our family. The woman who taught me that understanding people was more powerful than hurting them. She died when I was fourteen, murdered by a rival family targeting Father's weakness.
After that, Father tried to erase everything soft about me. Assigned guards. Isolated me from normal life. Told me the underworld would eat compassion for breakfast.
I'd learned to hide instead of breaking. Became the quiet daughter who smiled when told to smile. Attended charity galas in expensive dresses. Played the role of mob princess so perfectly that everyone dismissed me as decoration.
But privately, I'd been studying. Reading Father's business reports. Memorizing the structure of his organization. Understanding psychology and strategy and the art of reading people.
I'd become two people. The silent doll the mafia expected and the brilliant strategist Father had been preparing.
Now I had thirteen days to prove which version was real.
A knock interrupted my thoughts. Tommy Vega stood in the doorway.
"The first board meeting is in an hour," he said. "They're not wasting time."
"I thought I had two weeks."
"You do. But they're testing you immediately. Seeing if you'll show up. Seeing if you'll fold under pressure." Tommy moved closer. "Carlo Rossini is pushing for an emergency vote to overturn the will. Half the board agrees with him. The other half is waiting to see what you do."
"And you?"
"I'm following your father's orders." His expression was unreadable. "He told me to protect you. So that's what I'm doing. But Grace, protection only goes so far. You need to show them strength today or they'll tear you apart."
"What would Father do?"
"Vincent would walk in there and remind them why they feared him. He'd make threats. Show violence. Prove he was the most dangerous man in the room." Tommy paused. "But you're not Vincent. And trying to be him will get you killed."
"Then what should I do?"
"Be yourself. Be the woman Vincent saw when he wrote that will. Show them why intelligence is more dangerous than violence."
Tommy left before I could respond.
One hour until the board meeting. One hour to prepare for a room full of men who wanted me dead or powerless. One hour to decide who I was going to be.
I opened Father's journals one last time. Found the section marked "Grace's Weapons."
"Your brothers think they're smarter than you. Use that. Let them underestimate you until it's too late. The board thinks you're weak because you're a woman. Prove that morality isn't weakness but the strongest power. Your enemies will expect violence. Give them strategy instead. The mafia respects strength, but they fear intelligence."
I dressed carefully. Not the designer dresses I usually wore to please Father. Simple black suit. Hair pulled back. No jewelry except my mother's wedding ring. I looked like a businesswoman walking into a corporate meeting, not a mob princess inheriting a crime empire.
Perfect.
The board meeting was held in Father's conference room. Seven men sat around a table designed for intimidation. Large enough to create distance. Expensive enough to remind everyone what was at stake.
I walked in alone. No guards. No advisors. Just me and seven men who'd already decided I wasn't worth their respect.
Carlo Rossini stood immediately. "This meeting is to address the obvious problem with Vincent's will. A woman cannot run this organization. It's impractical, dangerous, and bad for business."
"Sit down, Carlo," I said calmly. "We're not voting on anything today."
"We'll vote when we want to vote."
"No, you'll vote when I say you can vote. Because like it or not, Father left me in charge. Which means this meeting runs on my schedule, not yours."
The room went silent. Several board members looked shocked that I'd spoken at all.
I sat at the head of the table. Father's chair. The seat of power. "You think I'm weak because I'm twenty-six and female. You think I'll fail because I haven't made strategic decisions. You think Father made a mistake."
"He did," Anthony DeLuca said. His voice dripped with contempt. "Women don't belong in this business."
"You're right. I don't belong in this business." I met his eyes without flinching. "I belong running it. Which is exactly what I'm going to do. You have two choices. Support the transition and profit from the stability I bring. Or oppose me and watch your operations collapse when the feds come knocking."
James Sullivan leaned forward. "Are you threatening us?"
"I'm promising you. Father kept detailed records of every illegal operation this board oversees. Every politician you've bribed. Every judge you own. Every murder you've ordered. Those records are currently in my possession. If something happens to me, they go straight to law enforcement."
The threat landed like a bomb. Several board members went pale. Carlo's jaw clenched.
"That's blackmail," he said.
"No, that's insurance. Father taught me that power isn't just about violence. It's about having leverage no one can take away." I stood. "You have thirteen days to decide if you're working with me or against me. Choose wisely."
I walked out before anyone could respond.
Behind me I heard Carlo's voice rising in anger. Heard chairs scraping as board members stood. Heard the sounds of an empire fracturing further.
Tommy waited in the hallway. "That was risky."
"That was necessary." My hands were shaking but I kept my voice steady. "They need to know I'm not Father. But they also need to know I'm just as dangerous."
"They'll move against you now. Faster than before."
"Let them try."
My phone buzzed. Another message from the unknown number.
Contract updated. Timeline accelerated. You have one week.
The hit on my life had just been moved up. Someone wanted me dead before I could consolidate power.
I looked at Tommy. "Who would contract a killer to eliminate me?"
"Your brothers. The board. Rival families. Take your pick." Tommy's expression darkened. "But there's only one organization skilled enough to breach your security without triggering alarms. Only one group that takes contracts from the underworld and never fails."
"Who?"
"They call themselves The Collective. And if they've accepted the contract, Grace, you're already dead."