Before the day of my husband's succession as the Don, my stepsister personally tattooed the "Inverted Angel's Eye"—the mark of a traitor—onto my back.

My husband didn't just turn a blind eye; when the family vendetta broke out, he withdrew all the elite guards to protect my "pregnant" stepsister, leaving me alone in a defenseless city to face the slaughter. 

"Elena, you are strong enough to protect yourself. But Sophia is fragile, and she is carrying my firstborn. She needs the protection more than you."

Facing a siege of heavy firepower, I survived by the skin of my teeth.

He thought I would swallow the insult for the sake of the family's reputation.

He didn't expect that I would kick open the doors of his coronation ceremony wearing mourning weeds, flanked by the FBI and the Commission, and personally strip him of his title.

"Goodbye, Lorenzo. This time, I choose to be the Don."

Before the day when Lorenzo officially ascends as the Don, as his lawful wife, I must undergo the baptism of family glory at this sacred moment.

Sophia, my stepsister—the "Principessa" adopted by my father—insisted on personally tattooing the "Angel's Eye," the symbol of supreme family authority, onto my back.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped. I looked into the floor-to-ceiling mirror, and my blood instantly froze.

The "Angel's Eye," which should have been looking down upon the masses, was inverted.

In the Code of Omertà, an inverted totem has only one meaning—a police informant, a rat.

Seeing the color drain from my face, Sophia peeled off her rubber gloves and blew the ink off the nozzle with a look of utter innocence.

"It's called deconstructionist art, Elena. Don't tell me you have zero taste?"

I grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table and smashed it at her.

The glass shattered against the wall, shards grazing Sophia's cheek.

In the next second, Lorenzo's powerful hand clamped around my wrist, shielding Sophia behind him.

His brows were furrowed, his eyes filled with warning.

"Sophia is our Principessa. She's just creating art. Have you lost your mind?"

I stared dead into Lorenzo's eyes.

This was the man I had loved for twelve years. Yet in this moment, he chose to be blind to the brand of shame on my back—a mark that warranted the death penalty by family law.

Sophia peeked out from behind him, a smirk of triumph on her lips, but her voice was dripping with feigned vulnerability.

"Lorenzo, you said you liked designs with a rebellious spirit. I just wanted to give her a surprise. Why is she treating me like this?"

My hands were trembling.

Before I could question him, the heavy oak doors of the study were pushed open.

Several Capos in black trench coats walked in, laughing.

"Are the Don-to-be and the Signora preparing for tomorrow's ritual?"

"The unity of the Corleone family is the bedrock of our rule over the European underworld."

"We heard the Signora is receiving the totem of glory. Let us have a look."

Before their voices faded, several sharp gazes landed on my exposed, uncovered back.

The warm compliments came to a screeching halt.

Cigars dropped from their mouths. Their eyes instantly turned dark and cold.

The entire room fell into a deathly silence, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder.

Only Sophia let out a soft laugh, like the whisper of a demon.

Lorenzo's face changed instantly. Subconsciously, he tried to hide Sophia behind him, blocking their scrutinizing stares.

"This is just a small accident."

Sophia pursed her lips, idly playing with the ring in her hand.

"Oops, my hand slipped just a little bit. It's barely inverted."

She glanced at the group of murderous Capos, relying on her status as the adopted daughter to be fearless.

"It's just a minor mistake, why so serious? Only someone with a guilty conscience would be so sensitive about a drawing, right?"

Lorenzo quickly took off his suit jacket and wrapped it tightly around me, covering the hideous "traitor" mark.

He looked at the men, his voice hard and carrying an unquestionable authority.

"Sophia is young and doesn't know the rules. It was an accident."

"You all watched her grow up; don't hold it against a child."

"For the sake of tomorrow's succession ceremony, this matter ends here."

Every word was a calculated chip.

Standing at the center of power, Lorenzo used the guise of maintaining the big picture to drive that knife ruthlessly into my heart.

Hearing this, I let out a cold laugh.

"An accident?"

"I don't accept that."

I slowly tightened the jacket around me, covering the totem that threatened death.

My fingernails dug into my palm, drawing blood, but I felt no pain.

I looked at Lorenzo and enunciated every word clearly.

"Since you, as the Don, cannot adjudicate fairly..."

"Then I will handle this according to my own rules."

I turned and walked out.

As the heavy wooden doors closed, I heard the faint murmurs from inside.

"The Signora's eyes were terrifying just now. She has the old Don's blood in her veins; this isn't over."

Consigliere Domine hesitated before speaking, "If the Signora makes a scene, tomorrow's ceremony..."

Lorenzo's voice carried a trace of exhaustion and certainty.

"She won't. I know Elena. She has a fiery temper, but for me, she can endure anything."

He paused, his tone deepening. "She loves me too much to disobey me."

The men seemed to relax, followed by the sound of clinking glasses.

I never imagined that Lorenzo, who once swore to protect me with his life, would choose to let me bear the suspicion of being a "rat" just to secure his power.

Immediately, someone laughed and flattered him: "True, the Don's charm is irresistible. The Signora will naturally do as she is told."

Standing in the shadows outside the door, looking at the shield crest on the wall that represented family glory, the corner of my mouth hooked into a cruel arc.

Do as I'm told?

Then I wouldn't be worthy of being Mafia.

I got into the bulletproof sedan and took out an encrypted satellite phone.

"Midnight."

"Kidnap Sophia and take her to the safe house in the East District."

"Also, prepare the sharpest skinning knife and a bucket of salt water. I'm going to personally teach her what true art is."

It was just past eleven at night when the special priority alert on my encrypted satellite phone pinged.

Intelligence had intercepted a post just uploaded to the Dark Web.

I opened it. Sophia was smiling innocently at the camera. The background was the highest-level safe house Lorenzo had arranged for her protection.

The video had clearly been recorded just minutes ago.

"Did a little artistic touch-up on a certain high-and-mighty 'Signorina' today."

She waved the tattoo gun at the camera, ink still dripping from the nozzle, her eyes full of provocation.

"Guess what I gave her? An inverted 'Angel's Eye'! In the Corleone family, that is the brand of a rat."

"You guys didn't see it. She's pushing thirty, still acting like some untouchable heiress. I drove that ink deep into her dermis. She’ll have to carry that shame for the rest of her life."

The encrypted comment section was a carnival for her little lackeys: "Long live the Principessa!" "Nice work!"

Sophia grew more excited as she spoke, toying with the luxury goods Lorenzo had given her.

"I’ve seen plenty of women like her. Relying on their so-called bloodline, always acting dignified in front of the Made Men."

She sighed with feigned pity. "Too bad. No matter how much Elena struggles, it’s useless. Lorenzo is wrapped around my finger."

"Next time, I’ll livestream something even better—watch me kick Elena out of New York and become the true Mama of the Corleone family."

The video shook violently for a second, then cut off abruptly, as if something had breached the room.

I let out a cold laugh and turned off the screen.

Sophia.

I was the one who gave her that name.

Five years ago, during the riots in the slums of Naples, I found her in a pile of corpses.

A fifteen-year-old girl curled up in the gutter like a rat, covered in blood, nearly beaten to death over half a loaf of bread.

Her eyes held that desperate, beast-like will to survive.

Back then, she was just a nameless stray, clutching the hem of my muddy dress, begging for help.

In a moment of softness, I didn't just save her; I brought her before my father, the Godfather, and persuaded him to adopt her.

I gave her a new life, turning a beggar into the esteemed "Principessa" of the Corleone family.

Now, she was using the power and affection my father and I had given her to carve the brand of a "traitor" into my back.

To humiliate me in front of the entire family.

She even dared to covet my position in the hierarchy and destroy my marriage.

But what truly chilled my heart was Lorenzo.

He knew a daughter of the Corleone bloodline could not tolerate such humiliation. Yet, to maintain the facade of "sibling harmony" within the family, he chose to sacrifice my dignity.

I knew he might be tiptoeing around the old Don's dying wish to look after Sophia.

But I had no interest in a balancing act that came at my expense.

Just then, my phone vibrated.

It was an encrypted message from the leader of "The Soldatos"—the private paramilitary force my father had left solely to me:

"Elena, target secured. We bypassed Lorenzo's security detail. ETA twenty minutes to your private underground armory."

Twenty minutes later, the heavy blast doors of my underground armory slowly groaned open. Dozens of fully armed Soldatos stood at attention in two rows.

Two masked enforcers dragged Sophia in and threw her onto the cold concrete floor like a dead dog.

She struggled to look up. Her arrogant gaze was now filled with terror, especially when she saw the Corleone crests surrounding her.

"Elena! Are you crazy?"

Something clicked in her mind, and she screamed, her voice shrill but lacking real confidence.

"How dare you kidnap me without authorization! Lorenzo will never forgive you when he finds out!"

"I am a Princess of the Corleone family too! I represent the family's face! If you dare touch a hair on my head, the family won't let you off!"

I looked down at her and chuckled softly.

"When Lorenzo proposed to me, he swore he would never let me suffer the slightest grievance."

Her expression twisted for a moment.

I held a piece of white buckskin cloth, slowly and methodically polishing a silver antique revolver.

"Do you think that adopted title of yours allows you to walk all over me?"

She looked at the dark muzzle of the gun, and her body began to tremble violently.

*Click.*

I snapped the cylinder shut and elegantly chambered a round.

"You've got one thing wrong."

"I am not just Lorenzo's wife."

"I am the only Corleone Mama."

"In the world of Cosa Nostra, no one dares to insult me."

I tossed the antique revolver onto the ammo crate.

For a traitor, a bullet was too merciful.

I took a sharp Sicilian stiletto off the torture rack. The blade reflected a cold gleam in the dim light.

That flash of cold metal caught my eye, and for a split second, I saw eighteen-year-old Lorenzo.

Back then, he was just an Associate not yet recognized by the family, wearing an ill-fitting cheap suit, standing in the rainy street.

As an outcast pushed aside by the family, he didn't even have a decent weapon.

Once, trying to reclaim a smuggled shipment for the family, he got two ribs broken and collapsed in an alley like a stray dog.

That was the first time I disobeyed my father's orders and used the family doctor to save him.

I shoved a stack of cash and a Browning engraved with the family crest into his hand.

But he stubbornly pushed the money back, his wolf-like eyes staring dead at me: "Miss Corleone, please leave me some dignity."

Since then, I just "happened" to provide him with intel and "conveniently" took care of a few hitmen watching him.

On Christmas Eve, he clutched two stone-cold sandwiches.

Amidst the church bells, he handed me a single rose, his hands covered in blood: "Elena, will you wait for me? Wait until I reach the top."

Years later, he stepped over countless corpses to become a high-ranking member of the Corleone family, eventually becoming the Underboss through my maneuvering.

That night, he knelt by my skirt and kissed the back of my hand.

"All those years living on the blade, I was terrified I wasn't worthy of your noble bloodline. I was scared you'd find out I fought in underground boxing rings all night just to buy you that rose."

It wasn't until we signed the marriage contract that he realized what a massive underground empire the name Corleone represented.

Lorenzo later told me that was the moment he understood.

"The finish line I clawed my way to was just your starting line."

To prove himself, Lorenzo became the most vicious "mad dog" in the Mafia world.

He frantically expanded territory and purged dissidents, just to stand tall beside me.

Unfortunately, the poison of power corroded everything.

The only warmth in this cruel world couldn't survive the erosion of profit.

"Are... are you really going to do it?"

Sophia's trembling voice pulled me back to reality.

I looked at the dagger in my hand, which I had only intended to use to scare her, my eyes cold.

"Since you like leaving marks on others, I'll give you one too."

I just wanted to cut her arm to teach her a lesson about the price of offending the family Mama.

However, a flash of madness suddenly appeared in Sophia's eyes.

Before I could react, she lunged at me, grabbed my wrist, and forced the blade into her own lower abdomen!

Blood instantly stained her white lace dress red.

"Ah—!"

A shrill scream echoed through the underground armory.

The next second, the heavy blast door was blown open from the outside.

Smoke cleared, and Lorenzo rushed in, radiating murderous intent.

He saw this scene: Sophia lying on the ground covered in blood, while I held the dripping dagger.

"Elena! What the hell are you doing!"

Lorenzo's roar made my eardrums ache.

Sophia clutched her wound, her face pale, weeping like a pear blossom bathed in rain.

"Lorenzo... help me..."

"She said... she said I stole your attention, and only if I died would you love her again..."

"She wants to kill me... to silence me..."

Lorenzo's pupils constricted sharply. In that instant, I saw real fear in his eyes.

He was afraid I had actually killed Sophia. He didn't trust me.

"Put the knife down, you psycho!"

Lorenzo charged at me like an out-of-control lion.

To stop the "crazy" me, he subconsciously shoved me hard.

He was too strong, possessing the explosive power honed from years of combat.

I lost my balance and fell backward, my forehead smashing heavily against the sharp corner of a redwood crate used for storing munitions.

There was a dull *thud*.

Warm liquid trickled down my forehead, instantly blurring my vision.

The pain nearly made me pass out, but I kept my eyes locked on Lorenzo.

He didn't even look at me.

He fell to his knees in a panic, carefully lifting the blood-soaked Sophia, his hands trembling.

"It's okay, Sophia. I'm here. I've got you."

"Doctor! Get the family doctor down here now!"

He roared, but when he turned to look at me, his eyes held only rage and disappointment.

"Elena, you are unbelievable!"

"Killing out of jealousy? When did you become so vicious?"

"If anything happens to Sophia, how am I supposed to explain this to the rest of the family?"

I leaned against the cold wooden crate, blood dripping onto the floor.

Watching him lose his mind over another woman, I suddenly remembered that rainy night when I was eighteen.

He was like this then, too, but back then, the person he was protecting was me.

To save me from stray bullets, he used his back to block all the shrapnel.

Back then, he said as long as he was alive, he wouldn't let me shed a single drop of blood.

I wiped the blood from my forehead and laughed coldly.

"Jealousy? Vicious?"

"Lorenzo, look closely. She stabbed herse..."

"Shut up!"

Lorenzo rudely cut me off. He had clearly decided I was just making excuses.

Seeing that Lorenzo wouldn't listen to a word, Sophia nestled in his arms, gasping weakly, and suddenly dropped the line she had prepared long ago.

"Lorenzo... save our baby..."

"I'm... I'm carrying your flesh and blood..."

"She knew I was pregnant... that's why she wanted to kill me..."

The air froze instantly.

Lorenzo stiffened. He looked down at the woman in his arms in disbelief, then jerked his head up to look at me, his eyes filled with hatred and suspicion.