To show his so-called sincerity, Luca began leaving early and coming home late, throwing himself into family business like a man possessed. Every single night, without fail, he would bring me a cup of hot milk.

“Victoria, I had a doctor adjust your prescription,” he’d say gently. “It’ll help with conception. Drink it while it’s warm.”

Once upon a time, I used to cradle that cup like it was a treasure. I believed it tasted like love. Now, all I could smell was poison.

I took the glass from him and pointed toward the window.

“Luca, what’s that outside?”

The moment he turned his head, I poured the milk into the thick rosebush by the window.

“What? There’s nothing there,” he said, turning back.

By then, I had wiped the trace of milk from the corner of my lips and handed him the empty glass.

“Maybe I imagined it,” I said. “I’ve been dizzy lately.”

Luca took the cup. A flicker of satisfaction flashed across his eyes. It happened so fast that most people would have missed it.

“It’s okay. Once you keep taking the medicine, you’ll feel better soon. And when you’re pregnant with our child, the Godfather will be ecstatic.”

He was still putting on an act. What he didn’t know was that I had replaced every surveillance system in the house with a private line. Every call he made to Sophia from his study was now backed up to my cloud server, word for word.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured one night. “That old man doesn’t have much time left. Victoria’s health is also getting worse. The doctor says she has premature ovarian failure. There’s no way she can get pregnant. Once I secure control of the port, I’ll bring you and Antonio over. The Empire State Building? I could buy it for our son as a toy.”

I sat on the other end of the surveillance feed, listening calmly. The sweet words that once made my heart race now felt like blades sliding under my skin.

Did he really think the intelligence network my father built from nothing was just decoration? Did he really believe the Corleone family couldn’t see what he was doing? Well, if he was so eager to bring that mother and son into my home, how could I not lend a helping hand?

The very next day, under the name of the Corleone family’s Principessa, I sent formal notices to several luxury boutiques on the island. The message was simple: freeze all of Sophia’s credit cards. After all, they were issued under my supplementary account. I’d like to see how long “true love” could last without money.

Sure enough, in less than three days, Luca grew restless. He paced back and forth in his study, his voice lowered but furious.

“How could it be frozen? That’s Victoria’s card… D*mn it! She probably just forgot to make a payment. Don’t cry! If Antonio wants caviar, just get it! I’ll figure out a way to transfer the money to you!”

Figure out a way? Every single dollar in the Corleone family flowed through systems I controlled. If he wanted to touch public funds, he’d need my authorization.

That night, Luca tested the waters.

“Victoria, have there been any changes to the family accounts on the island recently?”

I was trimming a black, thorny roses I replied, “Yes, Uncle Rocco reviewed the books. There were some questionable expenditures, so he froze all supplementary cards for now. Why? Do you need something urgently?”

Luca’s face stiffened, and he waved his hands quickly. “No, no. I was just asking.”

I snipped the rose cleanly at the head, allowing the bloom to fall onto the table with a dull thud.

“Good,” I replied. “Those cards are for family members only. If outsiders use them, they lose their hands.”

Luca instinctively pulled his hands into his sleeves.

Sophia was even more impatient than I had imagined. Once her money was cut off, she actually smuggled herself and the child into New York.

Luca hid them in an old apartment in Brooklyn. It was a rundown place he had bought years ago, back before he married into the Corleone family and when he was still nobody.

“Victoria, I’ve got an important business dinner tonight. I won’t be home.” He adjusted his tie in front of the mirror as he lied, not daring to meet my eyes.

In the past, I would’ve reminded him to drink less and to come home early. Now, I just found it laughable.

I stepped forward and straightened his collar for him, my fingers brushing over his carotid artery. Beneath my fingertips, his pulse beat steady and strong. However, I knew that his heart no longer belonged to me.

“Go ahead,” I said evenly. “Don’t drink too much.”

The moment he walked out the door, I changed into a long black trench coat. The dark fabric wrapped around me, sealing in every trace of emotion. Uncle Rocco was already waiting. The black sedan sat quietly in the courtyard.

Rocco had been my father’s most loyal underboss since they were young. He’d followed him through gunfire and bloodshed for half his life. He only recognized the Corleone name, answered to my father, and protected only me.

As for Luca? In Rocco’s eyes, he was nothing more than an outsider who climbed up through marriage. Luca was not worthy of his attention.

“Principessa, are you sure you want to go in person?” Rocco asked, polishing the revolver that had accompanied him for decades. His voice carried the firm protectiveness of a man guarding his own blood. “That kind of place will dirty your shoes.”

“Some shows are only worth watching if you see them live,” I replied calmly, my eyes devoid of warmth.

The Brooklyn apartment had terrible soundproofing. The thin door couldn’t block the chaos inside. I stood outside and heard every word clearly.

“This is the luxury home you promised? Luca, there are rats here! Antonio was scared to tears!”

Sophia’s voice was sharp and shrill. There was no trace of the fragile, traumatized woman everyone talked about, but only greed and bitterness.

“Just endure it! Endure it!” Luca snapped, exhaustion and irritation bleeding into his voice. “Victoria’s watching everything closely right now. Do you know how ruthless her father is? If she finds out, we’re finished!”

“I don’t care! I want a big house! I want to shop on Fifth Avenue! I hid on that damn island for seven years. I’m done living like I’m poor!”

“Papa, I want McDonald’s. It smells bad here… I’m scared…”

The boy’s crying blended into the shouting, a chaotic mess of noise. I imagined Luca caught in the middle—stressed, overwhelmed, and pulled in every direction. A strange satisfaction rose in my chest. Yet, beneath it all was sorrow.

Was this his first love, the woman he could never forget? Was this the one he chose over me and our six-year marriage, risking betrayal of the Corleone family just to protect her?

Strip away the filter of money, and what remained was nothing but ugliness.

I lifted my hand and knocked on the door. The noise inside stopped instantly.

“Who is it?” Luca called out, his voice tense.

“The landlord,” I answered, my tone cold as ice.

The door opened. The moment Luca saw me, it was as if he had seen death itself. His face drained of color. His body froze in place.

“V-Victoria?”