Viola knelt on the floor, her face drained of color.
She stared at me, her voice shaking. “Impossible.”
“Why would those godfathers listen to you?”
I didn’t answer her.
I looked at old Godfather Vito.
He stood at the front of the crowd, head lowered, like a subordinate waiting for orders.
“Vito. Tell her,” I said.
Vito lifted his head and gave Viola a complicated look.
“Miss Romanov came to me three months ago.”
“She had every ledger from my arms-smuggling operation, along with proof that my son was laundering money overseas.”
“She told me I could either work with her, or my entire family could go to prison.”
Viola’s eyes widened. “When did that happen?”
“You were clearly at home every day learning etiquette!”
I smiled.
“Sister, did you really think I was going to class every
