My Daughter’s Regret After I Gave Her Exactly What She Asked ForChapter 2

When she was little, every time we went to a Family dinner she'd gush about how pretty the Donna was, how pretty the underboss's wife was, how pretty the consigliere's wife was.

I'd tease her on purpose. "And Mommy isn't pretty?"

Nina would answer in a bright little voice. "Mommy's hideous. You're the ugliest one out of all the ladies."

I'd be stunned, and seeing that innocent little face, I couldn't help saying, "Nina, when you say things like that, it really hurts Mommy."

But she'd plant her hands on her hips and lecture me like a tiny grown-up. "Daddy says good kids don't lie. This is the honest truth."

I was too astonished to answer.

Other children love everything about their mothers without question, looks and all.

Nina was the exception.

Later, when a traitor inside the Family turned, the FBI took me in for three days of questioning.

The day I came home, Nina was bent over the table, drawing, and she didn't even glance up.

I pressed my lips together, then couldn't help myself. "Nina, Mommy was gone three whole days. Did you miss me?"

She kept drawing without looking up, but her voice was full of glee. "Nope! Nobody bossed me around for three whole days. You have no idea how great it was! Why didn't the cops keep you longer?"

Watching that happy, careless little face, I stood there frozen.

After a long moment she finally looked up, held my eyes for a while, and added, "Don't be mad, Mommy. It's just the honest truth."

"You're too dumb. Getting taken away by the cops like that, you totally deserved it."

Last month she spiked a fever that wouldn't break, and I stayed up all night nursing her.

By the time it finally came down, I'd worn myself sick.

Seeing how haggard I looked, Vincent ached for me and asked Nina, "Mommy takes such good care of you. When she's old, will you take care of her?"

My daughter frowned at me in disgust. "No way. She'll be useless when she's old. This family doesn't feed freeloaders."

Vincent froze, then raised his hand to slap her, and I caught his arm.

And Nina, seeing my eyes go red, practically danced with delight. "Mommy, is the honest truth making you sad again?"

"Daddy's the one who said it. This family doesn't feed freeloaders. Did I get it wrong?"

That night I lay awake until morning, my head throbbing.

Vincent couldn't sleep either. He got up to smoke a cigar, the ember glowing red in the dark.

"That girl..." he started, the words coming hard. "She's just joking around. Right?"

He knew how to break any enemy he'd ever faced. This time his opponent was a seven-year-old girl.

A girl we'd raised with our own hands.

The more her words wounded me, the brighter Nina smiled.

Bit by bit she fell in love with the cruel little game, using her "honest truth" to hurt me again and again.

It was getting harder and harder to keep myself together.

Not wanting to linger in the awkwardness, Marlow had his promise and turned to leave. But Nina called after him. "Sir! Don't go yet!"

His step halted.

"Sir, could you leave me your phone number? If I really am the kid Mommy stole, I want to call you so you can come rescue me."

Marlow studied her. "If you report her, the Family puts a bullet in your mother. Then you won't have a mommy at all. Wouldn't that make you sad?"

Nina shook her head. "Honest truth? A mommy who's mean to me deserves to die!"

For a heartbeat, her coldness raised the hair on the back of my neck.

But the calm came quickly after.

Bad blood ran strong, it seemed.

This was a daughter I couldn't keep.

Something like pity flickered in Marlow's eyes. He said quietly, "Give her my number. Don't let her stir up anything worse."

And he left without looking back.