I was just about to fall asleep when I heard an engine downstairs.

More than one.

Usually, when Reginald left for Felicia, he was gone all night.

I frowned and went to the window. His armored Cadillac was in the driveway, and right behind it was a pink Maserati.

Felicia’s car.

My breath hitched. He brought her here?

I heard the front door open, then footsteps and low voices.

Silently, I went to my door and cracked it open.

"Reginald, are you sure this is a good idea?" It was Felicia's voice, soft and weak like always. "Now that my sister is back, shouldn't Leo be with her?"

"No." Reginald's voice was ice. "Rosabella was always spoiled. Three years in prison... it broke something in her. I won't let her near the heir."

Every word was a knife in my chest.

"But what if she..." Felicia trailed off. "What if she asks for a divorce?"

Reginald let out a short, confident laugh that made me sick.

"She won't, Felicia. She can't live without me."

I closed my eyes, and the memories flooded in.

Exile. Sent to Sicily at eight years old because my father's business was weak.

"Your parents abandoned you!" The taunts of the other children.

Five years later, I came home. But it wasn't my home anymore. Felicia had my room. My photos were gone, replaced by hers. Her sweet smile, her eyes full of poison.

Then Michael, my first love at fifteen. The roses he gave me. The next day, Felicia's tears. "She pushed me down the stairs, Papa!"

Locked in the freezing cellar all night. A fever of 104.

Waking up to hear Felicia bragging to her friends. "Michael's my boyfriend now."

After that, I gave up on trying to earn my parents' love. I rebelled. I rode motorcycles, went to underground casinos, drank all night. Anything to forget the pain.

Until Reginald. The heir to the Falcone family. Handsome, cold, powerful. He looked at me differently.

"You like photography?" he asked, nodding at the camera in my hands.

"Yeah," I said, guarded. Felicia had just "accidentally" broken my last one. This was a new one I'd bought with my own money.

"Then do it," Reginald said. "A mafia princess can be a photographer, too."

It was the first time anyone had ever supported my dream.

Then Reginald again. The car bomb at my birthday party. The explosion. He ran into the fire, pulling me from the wreckage without a second thought.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," he'd choked out, holding my bloody body, his own voice shaking.

In that moment, I thought I had found the light of my life.

But all of that was gone.

Three years in prison taught me one thing: anger and tears are a luxury. Only a cool head keeps you alive. In that place, where you only got a meal if you knelt and let someone stomp your head into the dirt, nothing mattered anymore.

No one is so important that you can't live without them. I could live just fine without Reginald.

I walked silently back into my room and pulled open the bottom drawer of my wardrobe.

Then, I picked up the divorce papers and walked, one step at a time, to face Reginald.

I walked down the stairs, papers in hand.

In the living room, Reginald and Felicia were on the couch. Leo was curled up in Felicia's lap.

They looked like a perfect family.

And I was the intruder.

"Rosabella?" Reginald froze when he saw me. "Why aren't you asleep?"

Felicia immediately clutched Leo tighter, as if I were some kind of monster.

"Sister... I'm sorry, I just needed Reginald to take me home, I didn't mean to wake you..." Her voice trembled, her eyes red-rimmed.

Still such a good actress.

"Are you angry with me?" Reginald stood, frowning at me. "Because I brought Felicia back?"

"No."

I held the papers out to him.

"What's this?" Reginald took them, confused, not opening them.

"Just some documents. They need your signature."

Reginald glanced at the cover, assuming it was a deed for the estate or some asset agreement.

His expression instantly softened.

He stepped closer, his voice dripping with condescending pity. "The villa on Lake Como. You always liked it there." He stroked my cheek, like I was a pet. "And the Swiss account. Is ten million enough to start?"

He thought I just wanted some financial security.

"And that Greek island, the one you said you wanted to photograph at sunset," Reginald went on, his tone growing softer. "It can all be yours."

In his eyes, I was just a wife feeling insecure because of Felicia's presence. A problem to be solved with money.

"Just sign," I said.

Reginald didn't even read the document. He just picked up a pen.

"Of course. It was all yours to begin with."

He was about to sign his name—

"Don't!"

A small body suddenly launched itself at me.

Leo, with all the force his three-year-old body could muster, slammed into me, knocking me to the ground.

"Bad woman!" he shrieked, standing over me, his little face contorted with rage. "Family traitor! You can't have our money!"

I fell backward, my knee hitting the sharp corner of the coffee table.

Blood seeped out.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the feeling of my heart being ripped in two.

This was my son. The child I carried for nine months and fought to bring into this world. And he was calling me a traitor.

It was just like at his school. The memory flashed, sharp and painful. I’d gone to see him, just days after getting out. I found him bullying a smaller kid.

"My dad is the Don! You mess with me?"

"You're an orphan!" Leo had laughed, a cruel, vicious sound. "Orphans are meant to be stepped on!"

When I pulled him away, he pointed at me and screamed, "Liar! You're the bitch trying to ruin our family!"

The other teachers and parents all stared at me, their eyes filled with judgment. In that moment, I understood. Felicia had completely poisoned my son.

Blood dripped from my knee, staining the carpet.

Even though I knew my son wasn't the boy I dreamed he'd be, my heart still ached.

"Rosabella!" Reginald rushed over to help me up.

"Is this your idea of a good upbringing?" I looked at Reginald, my voice ice cold. "Is this what Felicia taught him?"

Reginald's face darkened. As if to appease me, he quickly signed the papers, then looked down at Leo.

"Leo, apologize to her! Now!"

"No!" Leo hid behind Felicia. "She's the bad woman! Mama, don't let her take our home!"

Mama.

He called Felicia Mama.

"I'm so sorry, sister..." Felicia held Leo, tears in her eyes. "It's my fault, I didn't raise him right..."

"Don't say sorry to her!" Leo yelled. "Mama, you can't bow to bad people!"

That one stung.

It was just like when we were kids. Father always accusing me of bullying Felicia, forbidding her from apologizing to her "vicious sister."

"Leo!" Reginald's voice grew sterner. "She is my wife! The Donna of this family! You will show her respect!"

Leo froze, clearly scared by Reginald's anger.

But I was done with this whole charade.

I stood up, dragging my injured leg, and started for the stairs.

Behind me, I heard Reginald's voice.

"Leo, you listen to me! Rosabella is the Donna of this family. Everything we have is hers! You will respect her!"

I stopped and glanced back.

Leo was looking at the floor, muttering, "I know," but his face was full of hate.

Reginald didn't come home.

But I slept soundly.

For the first time in three years.

As morning light filled the room, I started packing.

Jewelry, gowns, skincare—all the expensive things that once defined Rosabella Rossi.

I picked up a diamond necklace. Reginald's gift for my twenty-first birthday.

I used to treasure it. Now it just felt heavy.

The room was exactly as I'd left it three years ago.

Reginald hadn't even moved my things.

Was it sentimentality? Or guilt?

"Ma'am, the Boss wants you downstairs," Marco, the butler, said through the door. "Mr. Rossi is here."

My father was here?

I changed into a simple black dress and walked downstairs.

In the living room, Magnus sat in the main armchair, his face a thundercloud.

My mother, Maria, stood behind him. Her eyes flickered with something complicated when she saw me.

Reginald sat across from them, looking exhausted.

And Leo was curled in a corner of the sofa, his eyes red and swollen.

It was the first time I'd seen my parents in three years. A lump formed in my throat.

The little girl who just wanted her parents' love seemed to resurface. "Papa, Mama..." I started, my voice strained.

"Rosabella." Magnus's voice was ice. "What did you do last night?"

"What do you mean?"

"Leo told us," Magnus’s voice was dangerously low. "He said you locked him in the ice cellar for three hours. For revenge."

The accusation hung in the air, so absurd I couldn't even breathe.

"I did not."

"Leo doesn't lie," Reginald said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He wouldn't even look at me. "He cried all night. Said he was cold and terrified."

I looked at Leo. The three-year-old boy was staring at me with pure terror in his eyes.

Such good acting. He really was Felicia's student.

"I was in my room all night," I said calmly. "Reginald was not."

"Reginald didn't come to your room last night," my mother said suddenly, her voice soft. "He was in his study all night."

The air froze.

Reginald looked away.

"A child doesn't lie for no reason," Magnus said, standing up. "Rosabella, I know you're angry, but Leo is, after all..."

He stopped.

"After all, what?" I laughed, a bitter, mocking sound. "Say it, Father. After all, what?"

Reginald shifted uncomfortably.

"The family heir?" I pushed. "You can't even say the words 'Leo is my son' anymore, can you?"

"Enough!" Magnus roared. "Will you ever learn?"

He gave a hand signal.

Two of his men stepped forward.

"Administer the family punishment."

"What?" Reginald shot to his feet. "Don Magnus, this is not—"

"She needs to learn a lesson," Magnus said coldly. "Take her to the discipline room."

"No." Reginald stood in front of me. "Rosabella, just apologize. And this will be over."

Apologize?

For something I didn't do?

I looked at Reginald, the man who once promised to protect me for the rest of his life.

"I didn't do it." I pushed past him. "If you've got the guts, just kill me."

Reginald stared at me, shocked.

"Rosabella—"

But the two men had already grabbed me, dragging me toward the basement.

In the discipline room, I was forced onto the bench.

Cold leather straps were fastened around my wrists.

"Twenty lashes," Magnus's voice came from the doorway. "Teach her a lesson."

The whip cracked through the stale air.

A line of fire seared across my back.

I bit down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood. I would not give them the satisfaction of a scream.

The second lash.

The third.

Blood soaked through my dress.

But I would not beg.

Three years in prison taught me that tears and pleading only bring more humiliation.

By the tenth lash, my vision started to blur.

By the fifteenth, I was drifting.

No, I will not give in...

Just then, a small, tearful voice cried out.

"Stop hitting her!"

Leo ran in, his eyes full of tears.

"Papa! Don't hit her anymore!"

Reginald immediately rushed over.

"Stop!"

The man with the whip froze.

"Leo, how did you—"

"It... It was Mama who told me to say it!" Leo sobbed, out of breath. "She told me to go into the ice cellar by myself!"

Dead silence.

I used my last ounce of strength to lift my head. Reginald's face was sheet-white.

Magnus was frozen in place.

"I wasn't locked in!" Leo kept crying. "I lied! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The world started to spin.

The last thing I saw before I passed out was Reginald rushing toward me, his arms trembling as he caught me.