The whir of the helicopter rotors faded completely into the night sky.

The vast Corleone estate was now as silent as a tomb.

To ensure Sophia's absolute safety during the transport, Lorenzo hadn't just taken the "Shadow Guard"; he had even pulled every single Soldato from the estate.

All he left me were a few elderly servants and a mansion so empty it was unnerving.

Clutching the hastily bandaged gauze on my forehead, I sat in the old leather chair my father had left behind, staring at the pitch-black night outside. The instinct of prey being stalked sent a chill down my spine.

News traveled too fast.

The Don had left New York, taking his elite forces with him, leaving a wounded Mama to guard an empty fortress.

For the rival families who had been lying in wait, this was an invitation to a feeding frenzy.

*Boom!*

A deafening blast shattered the bulletproof glass of the French windows. A heatwave carrying shards of glass rushed into the living room.

It was the smell of C4.

The estate's wrought-iron gates were blown open, and ear-piercing alarms cut through the long night.

I sprang from the chair, grabbed the gun off the table, and rushed to the surveillance room.

On the screen, a dozen black SUVs stormed into the estate like greedy hyenas. The doors flew open, revealing masked hitmen armed with submachine guns.

On their chests, they wore red scorpion badges—the symbol of the Moretti family, the Corleones' sworn enemy for a century.

"Signora! They've breached the perimeter!" Old Rossi, the butler, stumbled in, clutching an old hunting rifle. "We don't have enough men. We can't hold them back!"

Bullets rained down on the outer walls of the main building.

Gritting my teeth, I dialed the only number I could.

It was Lorenzo's private satellite phone, my only lifeline.

The phone rang for a long time before it picked up.

What came from the other end wasn't a hail of gunfire, but the sound of the Sicilian sea breeze and the crisp clink of wine glasses.

"Elena?" Lorenzo's voice sounded weary. In the background, I could hear Sophia's soft, flirtatious laughter. "I just landed in Sicily. If you're calling to argue about what happened earlier, I don't have the energy..."

"Lorenzo! The Morettis are attacking!"

I screamed into the phone, ducking to avoid stray bullets flying through the window.

"The perimeter is breached! They have heavy weapons! I have no men here. You need to order the nearest branch to send backup immediately!"

There was silence on the other end for two seconds.

Then came Sophia's terrified, tearful voice.

"Lorenzo... is Elena trying to trick you into coming back again?"

"The Morettis haven't clashed with us in ages... Is she trying to lure us back to New York?"

"After all, she won't accept our baby..."

Such a clumsy lie, yet Lorenzo actually believed it.

His breathing instantly grew heavier.

"Elena, that's enough."

His voice was as cold as the Sicilian sea in winter, filled with deep disappointment and disgust.

"You'd make up a lie like this just to get me back? You'd joke about the family's safety?"

"I've suppressed the Morettis so hard they don't dare show their faces. How could they possibly attack the estate now?"

A bullet struck the doorframe of the surveillance room, sending splinters flying into my face.

I gripped the phone in disbelief, my knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"Listen to the gunfire! Lorenzo! I am your wife! Would I lie to you about this?"

I held the phone toward the window; the rapid gunfire was clearly audible.

But from the other end came Sophia's scream: "Ah! My stomach... it hurts... Lorenzo, is the baby okay..."

"Sophia! Doctor! Get a doctor, now!"

Lorenzo's voice turned frantic instantly, all his attention stolen by that woman once again.

When he returned to the phone, his tone held zero patience, only unquestionable rage.

"Elena, I forbid you from playing these games! Sophia nearly miscarried just now because of your threats!"

"The estate has plenty of defenses. Even if there is an attack, you can handle it!"

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing. You're playing the victim to force me to give up Sophia and the child. Let me tell you, it's not happening."

"Don't call me again until you learn to be as magnanimous as a proper Mama should be."

*Click—beep—beep—*

The line went dead.

The dial tone in the receiver interlaced with the approaching sounds of slaughter outside. It was incredibly ironic.

I slowly lowered the phone.

In that moment, I heard my own heart break. It was louder than the explosions outside.

He believed her.

Even when I was cornered, even when a gun was pointed at my head, he still thought I was just being a jealous woman.

In his heart, that "fragile" Sophia was ten thousand times more important than my life, than the Corleone ancestral home, than the glory of this place.

"Signora..." Old Rossi looked at me, his cloudy eyes full of despair. "Is the Don not sending anyone?"

The gunfire downstairs was closing in on the stairwell.

I took a deep breath and wiped away the single tear that hadn't yet fallen.

When I opened my eyes again, I might not have been Lorenzo's wife anymore, but I was still the daughter of the old Godfather.

"Uncle Rossi, open Sector B of the underground armory."

I ripped off the cumbersome hem of my gown and drew the Beretta that had been with me for years from the holster on my thigh.

"Since the Don has abandoned this place, I will defend it."

I turned to look at the few trembling servants who hadn't fled and the loyal old bodyguards behind me.

"Tell everyone not to wait for backup."

"We've been discarded."

"But this is the root of the Corleone family. This is the empire my father built."

I racked the slide. The sound of the bullet chambering was exceptionally crisp in the smoke-filled room.

"Even if I bleed my last drop, I will never hand this place over."

I took one last look at the photo of Lorenzo and me on the table.

In the picture, he was on one knee, swearing to protect me with his life.

I raised my hand and shot the frame.

Glass shards flew everywhere, just like our past that could never be restored.

"Goodbye, Lorenzo."

"I will protect my family myself."

I kicked the door open, faced the hitmen rushing up the hallway, and pulled the trigger.

The sunlight in Sicily was blindingly bright.

Lorenzo stood in his bespoke black suit in front of the high-backed red velvet chair that symbolized supreme power.

He must have been glancing at the entrance from time to time.

He was waiting for me.

After all, in our countless arguments before, I was always the one to bow my head first.

He was certain that, for the sake of the family's face and our so-called "marital bond," I would swallow all my grievances and attend his coronation.

However, seconds turned into minutes, and the heavy doors remained shut.

The anxiety in Lorenzo's eyes grew intense. Subconsciously, he twisted the ruby pinky ring that represented the power of the Don.

"Stop looking, Lorenzo."

Sophia, dressed in a white lace gown even more lavish than a Mama’s ceremonial dress, intimately linked her arm through his, practically pressing her entire body against him.

She stroked her flat stomach and whispered in his ear like a snake hissing venom.

"Elena isn't coming. She was just putting on a show last night to trick you. Since you didn't go back, she's definitely throwing a tantrum."

"Today is a big day for the family. All the Elders are watching. For the sake of stability, you can't let us become a laughingstock. I will stand by your side as your companion to witness the moment you become the Don of the Corleone family."

Lorenzo looked at the woman beside him, then at the empty entrance. The flicker of expectation in his eyes finally hardened into disappointment and cold resolve.

He took a deep breath, straightened his spine, and finally nodded to everyone present.

"Proceed with the ceremony."

The pipe organ began to play a solemn hymn.

Dozens of Capos, who controlled the European underground black money empire, formed two lines. One by one, they stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and kissed the ring on Lorenzo's hand.

"*Bacio le mani, Don Corleone.*" (I kiss the hands, Don Corleone.)

The uniform sound of oaths echoed through the hall.

Sophia stood by his side, basking in the reverent gazes that were meant for me, her face unable to hide her triumph and greed.

Just as the last Elder bent down.

*Boom—!*

The heavy oak doors, which at this moment symbolized absolute authority, were violently shoved open from the outside.

The massive noise cut off the organ music. Everyone turned around in shock.

Backlit by the sun, I stood in the doorway.

But I wasn't wearing the festive, glorious gown befitting a Mama.

I was wearing high-couture black mourning weeds.

A black veil covered most of my face, a black skirt trailed on the ground, and a white camellia was pinned to my chest.

It was the traditional Sicilian funeral attire for a widow mourning her late husband.

I was mourning my dead love.

The hall instantly exploded into chaos, whispers buzzing like a swarm of bees.

The moment Lorenzo saw me, a look of surprise and joy burst into his eyes.

He instinctively pushed Sophia away and took a step forward. "Elena! You're alright? I knew you would come..."

His words choked in his throat as he saw the formation behind me.

Behind me, there were no family bodyguards.

Following me in were seven white-haired old men—the entire Commission, the supreme arbitration body of the Mafia.

And four stone-faced senior FBI agents in dark blue windbreakers.

Lorenzo's face turned ashen instantly.

Bringing the FBI to a Mafia succession ceremony was a flagrant provocation of Omertà.

"Elena! Have you lost your mind? What are the Feds doing here?!" Lorenzo roared in a hushed voice, his eyes filled with disbelief and hurt. "Do you want to destroy the family?"

I ignored his rage.

Walking in my four-inch heels, I stepped onto the red carpet, my black hem billowing behind me like ink.

I walked straight to the foot of the dais. Separated by three steps, I looked down coldly at the man I had loved for twelve years.

"Lorenzo, do you think going through the ritual makes you the master of the Corleone family?"

I removed the black veil, revealing the gauze still oozing blood on my forehead.

In that instant, Lorenzo's pupils constricted sharply. He reached out, wanting to touch my wound. "Elena... you..."

I coldly dodged his hand.

An FBI agent behind me stepped forward, took a sealed manila envelope from his briefcase, and spread it open in front of everyone.

"This is the 'Ultimate Trust Deed' established by the late Godfather."

I turned around to face the Mafia bosses below, my voice cold and steady.

"My father predicted this day would come. To prevent the family from falling into the hands of outsiders or traitors, he segregated the family's assets."

"All legal businesses—including casino licenses across Europe and America, shipping lines, real estate, and the exclusive franchises for the arms conglomerate—have been placed into an independent trust."

I pulled a fountain pen from my chest pocket and uncapped it.

"The only key to activate this trust is the handwritten signature of a daughter with pure Corleone blood—me, Elena Corleone."

Deathly silence fell over the hall.

Everyone understood what this meant.

Without the support of these laundered legal assets and arms transport lines, the so-called Godfather was nothing more than a glorified street thug managing a bunch of hooligans, without even the money to make payroll.

Sophia's face turned pale instantly. She shrieked, "That's impossible! Dad wouldn't leave Lorenzo out of the will! This must be a forgery!"

"Forgery?"

The Chief Elder of the Commission leaned on his cane and stepped forward, shooting a cold glare at Sophia.

"This deed was witnessed by the Commission and archived by the FBI as a third-party notary. Who dares to question it?"

Lorenzo froze in place. His hands were trembling; the Don's ring that had been glittering moments ago now felt like a branding iron burning his skin.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with shattered pain. "Elena, do we really have to go this far? I am your husband..."

"You *were*."

I cut him off coldly.

In front of everyone, I took the unsigned document and slammed it hard into his face.

The papers flew into the air, scattering like paper money for the dead.

"Since you chose that counterfeit Princess and the bastard in her belly..."

"Then you can keep your hollow title of Godfather and play house."

I looked around the room, my gaze sharp as a knife.

"I, Elena Corleone, hereby declare—"

"I do not recognize Lorenzo as the Don."