The Sister Who Shot Me Got Everything I Had

At seventeen, I was the Falcone heiress—one sit-down away from being presented to the Five Families. Then my little sister played with Papa's loaded pistol and put a bullet in my spine.

They shipped her off to Sicily, told me my seat at the table would be waiting. For seven years, I believed them.

Then Gia came home—wearing my ring, holding my fiancé's arm, sitting in my father's right-hand chair.

The surgery that could've saved my legs? They spent it on her.

They didn't punish her for seven years. They hid her and built her a throne on top of my spine.

Now I'm done waiting for people who don't love me to turn around.