Previously, in Don
The Don's informant stuttered as she relayed the message.
"Heirs, you say?" The Don replied, eerily calm.
"Y-Yes." The woman on the other side of the phone was a bold woman; and she was not a traitor. But the Don owned her. Something she loved dearly, was in her possession, and she would do anything for him.
Anything.
She just prayed that they could understand that.
"Kill them."
"W-What?" She stuttered disbelievingly.
"You heard me. Kill the children. Or have yours killed."
"Yes, boss."
The Don hung up the phone with a deranged grin.
Picking up her daughter, who resembled her father so much, she smiled.
"I'm sorry about your siblings, dear, but we can't have any competition, you know that, right? "
"Yes, mommy." The child said quietly. She was young, but she knew this was wrong.
"Good girl. Now, very soon, you will be Queen of the South; for that you must be prepared."
"Yes, mommy," the little girl droned, knowing where this would go.
Her mommy had been telling her this since she was born.
"Good," her mother smiled in approval. "Now, come dear. We will go to the torture chambers where you can practice,"
The child turned off her feelings, preparing for the bloodshed, preparing for the tortured screams that plagued her dreams.
"After all, you must be very good to kill your father."
"Yes, mommy."
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