The mirror still bore the red paint from last night.

Your Father was only the beginning.

I stared at it that morning, my reflection split by the lipstick smear. I wanted to smash the glass with a hammer, but I forced myself to breathe. Whoever wrote it wanted me broken. They wanted to scare me.

But I would give them neither.

My father's crucifix necklace hung heavy on my chest as I dressed. I held it tight and whispered under my breath–not a prayer, exactly but a promise.

“I will rule after my father.”

When I left the room, Lucky was outside as usual. He noticed my expression.

“You saw it again?” he asked.

My silence was enough of an answer.

Lucky nodded and beckoned towards the hall.”Raphael is downstairs, he wants a meeting.”

My brows arched. Of course he did.

The aroma of baked bread and espresso filled the kitchen when I entered. Raphael sat at the long counter, his sleeves rolled up, a smile plastered across his face. To anyone else, he looked calm, nice, and in control. But to me, he looked like a snake digesting its last meal.

“Abby,” he greeted warmly. “Sit. Eat with me.”

“I've lost my appetite,” I replied, pouring myself a hit of coffee instead.

Raphael inhaled softly. “A woman who doesn't eat won't think straight.”

I gave him a sharp look. “A man who talks too much is a senseless man.”

“His face darkened slowly but he maintained his calm and leaned back in his chair. “Straight to the point as usual. You'll make more enemies that way.”

“I have a lot of them already,” I said rudely.

His eyes rolled.”Then let's talk like family Abby, and not like enemies. I know you think I'm your enemy but I'm not. You're not just the right person to bear the burden of becoming the new head of the table.”

“You want my father's seat.” I corrected.

He chuckled lightly. “Do you really think that if you sit as the head of the table with these men, you could last a week? They'll tear you apart before then.”

My fingers tightened on the coffee mug. Part of me hated that his words struck my deepest fear. What if he was right? Was I not fit for the position as the head?

But I raised my chin. “I prefer to be torn apart than you becoming the head.”

His smile switched into a frown instantly. His voice was filled with rage. “Careful, Abigail. You're walking into the fire that will burn you. And I'd hate to see you burn.”

I leaned forward, facing him.” If I burn Raphael, you'll burn with me.”

For a long moment, there was silence, we stared at each other, then suddenly Raphael pushed back his chair, his smile returning to his face.

“Have it your way, Abby. But remember–I warned you.”

He left without saying another word.

Lucky appeared moments later. “He's tense,” he muttered.

“Good, “ I said slowly. “Fear makes men clumsy.”

But even as I said it I was not sure. Raphael wasn't the only one I feared. Deep down I feared for myself– how far would I go, how much sacrifice was I willing to make?

******

That afternoon, I made my first move. I contacted Sophia Deluca, my childhood friend and now a lawyer for some of the family's businesses. Sophia arrived with her heels clicking against the marble floor. His brown hair was made into a ponytail, glasses stood on her nose like figures. She was wearing red lipstick.

“You're either desperate or in need.” Sophia said as soon as she entered, staring at me.”Maybe both.”

“Both keep me alive,” I replied.

Sophia sat beside me, facing me and folding her hands neatly. “So what's your plan?”

I was hesitant for a while then I spoke. “The men will never respect me. Not yet. Because they underestimate women. The wives, the sisters, the ladies. They're nothing in this world. I want to build my own network– from their ignorance.”

Sophia raised her brows. “You want to bend the rules by making women the spies of the empire.”

“Not spies,” I corrected. “Queens.”

Sophia studied me for a while, then sighed. It's mad. Risky and a smart move.”

“Will you be of help?” I asked.

Her lips formed a faint curve. “You know I will. But be careful. If Raphael learns of this_”

“He won't,” I cut in. “Not until it's too late.”

******

That night I hosted a quiet gathering of women.

They came reluctantly at first, slipping into the estate one by one: Lucia, Don Vincenzo’’s long-suffering wife; Camille, Raphael's wife who always wore sunglasses to hide her bruises: Maria, a maid who had worked in the house since I was a child.

They all sat in the living room, tense and uncertain. I poured them wine, trying to ease their tension.

“You're all wondering why you're here,” I began.

Lucia grunted. “Because you're mad ragazza. What could women like us do in a world run by men with power and guns?”

“Everything,” I said with firmness in my voice. “Men do what they want, say what they want to say, thinking we're deaf. They hide nothing from us. We know their secrets more than they do.”

Camille shifted uncomfortably. “And what happens when they find out about this?”

My gaze swept the room, staring around at everyone. “Then we make sure they don't. I won't ask you to take a gun. I'll ask you to be attentive. To observe. To tell me what the men think you can't see. Together, we'll be stronger than them.”

The room was silent. Then Maria, the maid, spoke slowly. “Carlo once told me, " Every king falls because he forgets the queen.” Maybe you're right Abigail, maybe it's time the queens act.”

One by one the women nodded. Even Lucia's eyes softened.

I felt a surge of something toxic and enticing–power. For the first time, I wasn't just surviving, I was building.

Later, after the women had left, I returned to my father's office. Lucky was there waiting.

“You think this is a good idea?” He asked.

“It's the best idea I've ever imagined,’’ I said. “Raphael played with the capos. Vincenzo played with the councilmen. I'll play with the queens.”

Lucky stared at me carefully. “And what do you want, Abigail? Really?”

The question caught me off guard. What did I want? Power, yes. Revenge, certainly. But under it was something more dangerous.

“I want a world where I'm not controlled,” I said finally. “Where my father's name doesn't define me. Where I don't wake up every day in fear of who will betray me next.”

Lucky’s eyes softened. “And what are you scared of?”

My throat tightened. “That's when I get there….I won't be myself anymore.”

Silence hung in the room for a moment. Lucky's fingers moved slightly, as if he wanted to reach for mine, but he didn't.

Then a knock shattered the moment.

Sophia barged in, looking tense and holding her breath. “Abigail—we have a problem.”

She tossed a folder onto the desk. Inside were photographs–surveillance shots of the Romano estate. Men lurking outside. Cars are parked in alleys.

“This isn't the cops,” Sophia said, her voice shaking. “This is something else. Someone's watching your moves from time to time.”

I picked up one of the photos, my stomach sinking.

The last photo showed me standing at my bedroom window, staring out into the night.

And in the reflection of the glass, barely visible behind me—

A man's silhouette.

Inside my room.