Cast Out as Old-Fashioned, I Watched the Mafia Fall Apart

Last night I received notice that the Family was cutting me loose. The explanation was flimsy: my thinking was outdated, I refused to modernize, and I was seriously obstructing the Family's expansion. That morning, my fiance stopped me in the corridor, his expression icy. "Kelly was right. Someone as stubborn and inflexible as you only holds the Family back. "And don't blame me for cutting you. You offended someone you shouldn't have." Kelly leaned against the railing, surrounded by her men, and watched me with a smug smile. She was the Don's own niece. Two weeks earlier, she had been parachuted in to take over the Family's core operations, using reform as an excuse to purge every elder. At the Family meeting yesterday, I rejected her reckless expansion plan in front of everyone. Kelly shot me a cold glance from the crowd, contempt sharpening her voice. "Certain old relics who can't move with the times outlived their usefulness long ago. Clinging to power only drags the whole Family down. "If you know what's good for you, get out." My expression remained unreadable. Without a word, I signed the papers withdrawing from the Family. What she didn't know was that I had never needed to stay in this Family. Someone had begged me to stay and hold it together. Then I posted on Instagram. "I have left the Family. I look forward to seeing what comes next." The moment the post went live, the entire underworld erupted.