GRACE POV
The funeral lasted four hours too long.
I stood in the back of the cathedral watching hundreds of criminals pay respects to a man they'd feared for thirty-two years. Vincent Morgan. Mob boss. My father. Dead at sixty-three from what the doctors called a heart attack and what I suspected was something far worse.
Men in expensive suits approached the casket with rehearsed sorrow. Women dabbed their eyes with handkerchiefs they didn't need. Everyone performed grief like it was just another transaction in a world built on lies.
I felt nothing.
Maybe that made me a bad daughter. Maybe twelve years of watching my father build an empire on blood and violence had burned away the soft parts of me. Or maybe I'd learned early that showing emotion in the mafia world was the same as showing weakness.
And weak women didn't survive in my father's empire.
My brothers stood near the casket accepting condolences. Vincent Jr., the eldest at thirty-one, looked appropriately devastated. He'd always been good at performing. Michael, twenty-eight, stood silent and cold. He'd inherited our father's talent for violence without the strategic mind to control it.
Neither of them looked at me. They never did unless Father forced them to acknowledge my existence.
The reading of the will was scheduled for immediately after the funeral. Family tradition. Strike while the grief is fresh and the power vacuum is still forming. My father had always been efficient about these things.
We gathered in his private study at the family estate. The lawyer, Gerald Morrison, sat behind Father's massive oak desk looking uncomfortable. My brothers sat in leather chairs looking confident. The board members lined the walls like vultures waiting to feast.
Seven men controlled the criminal operations of Manhattan. They answered to Vincent Morgan because he was smart enough and brutal enough to keep them in line. Now they'd be looking for his replacement.
Everyone expected Vinny Jr. Everyone knew Michael was too unstable. Everyone assumed I'd be married off to strengthen alliances like every other mob princess.
Gerald cleared his throat. "The last will and testament of Vincent Morgan."
The room went silent.
Gerald read through the standard provisions. Money to various charities that were actually money laundering fronts. Property distributed to key soldiers. Enough cash to keep everyone loyal during the transition.
Then he reached the final page.
"Regarding control of the Morgan family operations and all associated business interests..." Gerald paused and looked directly at me. "Vincent Morgan leaves everything to his daughter, Grace Morgan."
The room exploded.
Vinny Jr. shot to his feet. "That's impossible! Father promised me—"
"He promised you nothing," Gerald interrupted calmly. "The will is clear and legally binding. Grace Morgan inherits full control."
Michael slammed his fist on the table. "She's a woman! She can't run this empire!"
"The will says otherwise."
I sat perfectly still while chaos erupted around me. Board members shouted objections. My brothers screamed betrayal. Guards looked confused about who they were supposed to protect now.
Only Tommy Vega remained calm. He was Father's oldest friend, a general who'd served for twenty years. He stood against the wall with his arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"This is insane," Vinny Jr. snarled. He turned to the board members. "She's twenty-six years old. She's never made a strategic decision in her life. Father must have been senile when he wrote this."
"Vincent Morgan was examined by three doctors two weeks before his death," Gerald said. "All confirmed he was of sound mind. The will is valid."
"Then we challenge it," Michael said. "Family vote. The board can override—"
"No," Tommy Vega said quietly. Every head turned toward him. "Vincent knew exactly what he was doing. We honor his wishes."
"You can't be serious," Vinny Jr. said. "You're supporting this?"
"I'm supporting Vincent's decision." Tommy's gaze moved to me. "He saw something in Grace that the rest of you missed. I suggest you figure out what that was before you make a mistake you can't take back."
The threat was clear. Tommy commanded loyalty from half the soldiers in the organization. If he backed me, the transition would be bloody but possible. If he opposed me, I'd be dead within a week.
"The board will meet in two weeks," one of the members said. His name was Carlo Rossini, and he controlled the drug trafficking operations. "Grace will present her plan for maintaining operations. If we're satisfied, we'll support the transition. If not..." He left the threat unfinished.
Two weeks. They were giving me two weeks to prove I deserved the crown or they'd take it by force.
I stood slowly. Every eye in the room fixed on me. I'd been silent through the entire funeral. Silent through the chaos. Now I needed to show them something other than the quiet girl they'd dismissed for twenty-six years.
"Two weeks," I said. My voice came out steady and cold. "I'll be ready."
I walked out before anyone could respond.
Behind me I heard Vinny Jr.'s voice rising in anger. Heard board members arguing strategy. Heard the sounds of an empire beginning to fracture.
I kept walking.
Tommy caught up with me in the hallway. "That was a mistake."
"Which part?"
"All of it. You should have fought back. Shown strength. They think you're weak now."
"Let them think that." I met his eyes. "Underestimating me is the first mistake they'll make. It won't be the last."
Tommy studied me for a long moment. Then something like respect crossed his face. "Your father said you were smarter than both your brothers combined. I'm starting to see why."
"Did he really leave me everything? Or is this some kind of test?"
"Both." Tommy glanced back at the study. "Vincent knew his sons would tear the empire apart with ego and violence. He needed someone with a strategic mind. Someone who understood that real power comes from intelligence, not just brutality."
"I'm twenty-six years old," I said. "I've never made a strategic decision because Father never let me. How am I supposed to run an empire I don't understand?"
"You understand more than you think." Tommy handed me a key. "Your father's private office. Top floor. Everything you need is there. Study fast. You have thirteen days before the board meeting."
He walked away before I could ask what he meant.
I stood alone in that hallway holding a key to my father's secrets. Around me the house buzzed with whispered conversations and shifting alliances. My brothers were already planning my removal. The board was already calculating my weaknesses.
Two weeks to prove I deserved power I never asked for.
Two weeks before they tried to kill me.
I walked to the top floor and unlocked Father's private office. The space was exactly as I remembered. Massive desk. Floor to ceiling windows. Shelves lined with books about strategy and war.
On the desk sat three leather journals. My father's handwriting covered every page.
I opened the first one and started reading.
"If you're reading this, Grace, then I'm dead and you're terrified. Good. Fear will keep you sharp. Your brothers think power comes from violence. The board thinks it comes from money. They're all wrong. Real power comes from understanding people better than they understand themselves."
My hands shook as I turned the page.
"I've been preparing you for this moment since you were fourteen. Every lesson. Every restriction. Every time I isolated you from the business. I was teaching you to see what others miss. To think three moves ahead. To be patient when everyone else acts on impulse."
The next line made my chest tight.
"Grace, you're the only one smart enough to hold this empire together. Your brothers will try to take the crown. The board will test you. Enemies will circle like sharks. But you have something they don't. You have morality in a world built on immorality. And that terrifies them more than any weapon."
I read through the night. Three journals filled with my father's strategies, his contacts, his understanding of every weakness in the organization. He'd been grooming me for years without me realizing it.
Every time he'd sent me away from violent meetings, he'd been teaching me restraint. Every time he'd isolated me from the business, he'd been forcing me to study it from the outside. Every time he'd treated me like decoration, he'd been letting me observe without being watched.
By dawn I understood. Father hadn't left me an empire. He'd left me a war. And he'd spent twelve years making sure I had the weapons to win it.
My phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
The board has decided. You have two weeks. After that, consider your inheritance forfeit.
Then another message. This one from Vinny Jr.
You're not keeping what Father left you. I'll make sure of that. One way or another.
I set down the journals and walked to the window. The sun was rising over the city. Somewhere down there, my brothers were planning my death. The board was calculating how to remove me. Enemies were preparing their attacks.
Two weeks suddenly felt like no time at all.
My phone buzzed again. Another unknown number.
Contract accepted. Target: Grace Morgan. Elimination: two weeks.
My blood ran cold.
Someone had just put a hit on me. And they wanted me to know about it.