ella

ed my eyes, and suddenly, I wasn't standing in the lavish Riggs mansion anymore. I was

de her door, the shrill, triumphant laughter of my father's *comare*(mistress), Carie, had echoed through the halls. Carie had b

mily had once survived on Cantrell charity. I remembered the metallic scent of blood filling the room as the knife sliced their palms. A Blood Vow. My

at on a dying woman's sacrifice. The realization didn't b

urried in, clutching the heavy mahogany box bearing the Cantrel

er-bound ledgers. Together, we began to trace

ressie whispered, her finger tre

aged thousands into a botched bootlegging operation on the South Side, using my dowry to co

estro Bellini or

asting like ash in my mouth. "With my money

mother's legacy to fund their own pathetic climb up the social ladder. The sheer, unadultera

er with a sharp,

my voice eerily calm. "Along with the keys t

you leave them, you're giving them exactly what

ilk of my skirt. "I am not surrende

deeper into the dowry lists. The commercial properties in downtown Chicago-the storefronts, the warehouses-they are stil

r of fierce hope replaci

till own the roots. My younger brother and sister need a shield, and I am

e them with the bankrupt ruins of their own making. Before I could t