Not A Future Donna

Just because I post one picture with my younger brother, Lucas Gambino, his girlfriend Betty Gotti decides I'm the other woman.

She rolls up to my place with her crew, live‑streaming the whole thing while they tear it apart.

"Look at this puttana trying to steal my man!" Betty shouts to the camera. "She's got the face to flirt, but not the spine to admit it! Give me ideas, chat—I'll teach her some respect."

Those psychos destroyed everything. My jewelry, my designer clothes, my bags… they didn't spare a thing. Not even the ring my parents left me.

Then, with the viewers egging her on, Betty crossed the line. She had her girls strip me bare on stream.

Her chat was going wild, donations pouring in—until my brother saw it.

When Lucas kicked in the door to pull me out, I looked at him through eyes that burned.

"Dump the girlfriend," I told him. "Or you can forget about ever being the Don."

As the Donna of an Iyvalian mafia, I'd barely touched down in Strallard when a livestream flashed across my screen.

A pack of barely-dressed girls were filming, phones in hand, voices shrill with fake outrage.

"We found the bitch—she lives right here!"

"That troia had the nerve to come after my best friend's man! We're dragging her out and giving her a public lesson!"

They panned the camera across the neighborhood.

I paused. Wasn't that my building?

"I heard only rich people live here," one sneered. "A bunch of mob bosses keep their goomahs in these apartments! Hit thirty thousand likes, and we'll bust down that home‑wrecker's door!"

More viewers flooded the stream, hyping up the unseen host.

I scowled. This kind of trashy spectacle wasn't my business. I was about to close the app when the host finally turned the camera on herself.

I went still.

Was that… Betty Gotti? Lucas's girl?

My brother Lucas had picked me up from the airport bursting to show me photos of her. He'd begged me to meet her before I flew back to Iyvaly.

Our parents were taken out in gang crossfire when Lucas was just one. Five years ago, I left for Iyvaly to take over the family business, leaving him here alone.

Hearing he'd found someone had actually made me happy.

He couldn't stop talking about her—how sweet she was, called her an angel. So why the hell would he cheat?

On stream, Betty was sobbing to her audience.

"We were so in love—we were going to get married! But this home‑wrecker texts him every day, trying to lure him away. She even threatened me—said if I didn't leave him, she'd ruin everything!"

"My boyfriend comes from a good family. I kept quiet for his sake. But she won't stop! These side pieces will do anything for money!"

Her voice trembled, tears flowing. Anyone would feel for her.

Even I did. Furious, I killed the stream and called my brother.

"Lucas! When my accountant said you blew over a million on your card, I didn't want to believe it! But you really are funding some mistress!"

Lucas sounded lost. "What? No. Betty has my card. I haven't bought anything for anyone else."

"Still lying? Betty's confronting the other woman right now! Let me tell you—she's a good woman. She protected your name and got threatened over your dirt!"

"The Gambino family doesn't raise cheats. You cut that woman off and treat Betty right, or I'll break your legs myself and ban you from the family for good!"

I hung up before he could answer.

My doorbell rang.

The second I opened it, a rush of girls shoved inside. The force knocked me down, and before I could move, phone cameras were jammed in my face.

"Everyone, look! This is the mistress who went after my best friend's man!"

"A slut living in a place this nice just by sleeping around—how should we teach her a lesson?"

I looked up, stunned.

Weren't these the girls from the stream? Why were they coming for me?

"No—you've got it wrong, I'm not—"

Before I could finish, Betty—leading the pack—cracked me across the face.

"You motherless whore! Who gave you the right to touch my man?!"