Chapter 1The Unseen Donna

The Romano family had one ironclad rule for Christmas dinner.

Only those with a high enough contribution score earned a seat at the main table.

I'd been married to Don Lorenzo for three years, and for all three of them, his Underboss, Sheila, and I had fought over the seat beside him.

The first year, Sheila made Lorenzo's mother, Elvira, her favorite latte.

Lorenzo gave her a 98.

I'd spent two weeks preparing for that dinner.

He gave me a 60.

The second year, Sheila wrote a hymn, and Elvira praised her for knowing exactly what to say.

Lorenzo gave her a perfect score.

Meanwhile, I'd spent six months sorting through the family's books and collecting years' worth of outstanding debts.

All I got from Lorenzo was, "Good work."

And another 60.

This year, I'd prepared eighteen dishes, making sure every single person's preferences were covered.

But by the time I arrived, Sheila was already sitting in the place I'd failed to earn for three years.

Lorenzo was cutting her steak for her.

"You're late. The rules don't wait for anyone."

The clock on the wall read 7:30.

Sheila looked surprised.

"Chloe, didn't you know dinner started at seven this year?"

I'd been the Donna for three years, yet I wasn't even allowed at the main table.

No one had bothered to tell me dinner had been moved up.

Maybe there was no point fighting for a place that had never belonged to me.

...

More than half the food on the long table was already gone.

I'd spent two weeks preparing for this dinner, only to find I didn't even qualify for a seat.

Lorenzo noticed I was still standing there.

"What are you waiting for? Don't you know where your seat is?"

Of course I did.

The folding chair beside the servants' table near the door.

The same place I'd sat for the past two years.

"Can't you add one more seat?"

Lorenzo set his dinner knife beside his porcelain plate.

"Chloe, the Romano family doesn't make exceptions for anyone."

I said nothing.

The Romano rules said seats at the table were determined by contribution scores.

Yet the scores hadn't even been announced, and Sheila was already sitting beside Lorenzo.

She proudly showed off the silver-handled knife in her hand.

A small "S" was engraved into it.

The Romano family's silverware was custom-made. Only people whose contribution scores met the standard were allowed to use it.

I turned toward the servants' table and waved over the butler.

"Pete, was any silverware prepared for me this year?"

Pete hesitated, then shook his head.

So even if I'd arrived on time, there had never been a place for me at that table.

Lorenzo frowned. He picked up a plate of obvious leftovers and walked over.

"We saved you some food. All the Capos are here tonight. Don't make a scene over the rules."

The rules again.

To follow the Romano family's rules, I had to wake before dawn to cook.

On the first Sunday of every month, I attended services at the family chapel.

I knew every Romano name, branch, and business relationship by heart.

All for those precious contribution points.

Sheila had done nothing, yet she got to sit in my place while Lorenzo cut her steak.

I didn't take the plate.

"If there's no place for me, then I'm not eating."

Lorenzo set the plate aside and rubbed his brow in frustration.

"Chloe, do you really have to start this now?"

I looked at him.

"None of you have ever treated me like the Donna of the Romano family."

Lorenzo didn't argue.

He simply dumped the food into the trash.

"Suit yourself. If you don't want to eat, then don't."

He returned to the main table and continued picking onions off Sheila's plate.

The room quickly filled with laughter again.

No one cared about me.

Just like no one cared about the plate of leftovers Lorenzo had thrown away.