The Godfather's Favor — The Red Handprint

My dad runs a boxing gym. He laid down one rule for me early on. Stand on solid ground, and you'll never come out on the losing end.

At 18, my birth parents showed up, claiming I was the long-lost eldest daughter of the Bennett family. The Bennetts are a name I'd vaguely heard of,

one of the most powerful families in the city. I didn't want to go, but Gabriel said I needed to know where I came from. Tracing your roots is part of growing up,

whether you like it or not. So I packed my old suitcase and headed to the Bennett estate. When I walked in, only my mother, Vivian, and my brother, Alexander, and the adopted daughter were in the living The adopted daughter, Iris, rose from the couch smiling sweetly.

Claire, you must be exhausted from the trip. She reached out and touched the hand I had wrapped around the suitcase handle, as if offering to carry it for me. I brushed her hand away with my other one. No need.

The butler led me to a north-facing room near the staircase, dim and cold. The curtains were thin, the wardrobe empty. Not even a sheet on the bare mattress. A water stain ran down one wall from ceiling to baseboard.

While I was unpacking, sobbing suddenly drifted up from downstairs, right after Alexander's furious voice cut through. Claire, get down here! I went down.

Iris was leaning against Vivian's shoulder, crying, a red handprint blooming on her cheek. She flinched back the moment she saw me. Claire, why did you hit me?

Every eye in the room turned to me, dripping with hostility.