The Trinacrian wind didn’t clear Lorenzo’s head. If anything, it taught him how to play the victim.

That fool who only knew how to squander money somehow reinvented himself as a penitent monk in a rural monastery.

A month later, Don Moretti’s desk was buried under letters from Trinacria.

None was written by Lorenzo himself, but by a highly respected local priest.

The letters said Lorenzo rose at four every morning to scrub the church floors, prayed devoutly for redemption, and kneeled until his knees bled.

“Elena,” Don Moretti said as he set the letters down and removed his reading glasses. A trace of pity surfaced in his clouded eyes.

“A lost lamb has returned to the flock. He is, after all, blood of the Moretti family and your husband.”

I sat across from him, peeling an apple. The skin came off in one long, unbroken strip.

“Don Moretti, when a crocodile sheds tears, it’s usually because it’s hungry,” I said calmly, handing him the sliced apple. “If he’s truly devoted to God, then let him be a little purer.”

That afternoon, I cut off all of Lorenzo’s allowances in Trinacria and froze seven hidden accounts under his name.

If he wanted to play the ascetic, there shouldn’t be the smell of money on him.

The financial choke worked immediately, but the result was nothing as I expected.

Three days later, a photo made its way back to the estate.

In it, Lorenzo wore rough linen robes, handing a watch to a pawnshop owner.

It was the watch Don Moretti had given him when he was promoted to underboss.

The message followed quickly.

Lorenzo had sold his symbol of status just to buy a batch of prayer candles for the church, to pray for the family.

The elders couldn’t sit still anymore.

“This is outrageous!” The consigliere slammed his hand on the table during the meeting.

“Elena, you’re pushing him to the brink! That watch represents the family’s face, and now it’s hanging in a pawnshop. That’s like throwing the Moretti family’s honor on the ground and stepping on it!”

I looked coldly at these old men blinded by performance.

However, I knew Lorenzo was not so noble.

While Lorenzo was short on money, it was not for candles.

In Trinacria, he’d made contact with Black Snake—the radical faction within the Moretti family.

He wanted money for mercenaries and make a comeback.

So I deliberately leaked a fake estate defense map.

It marked supposed weaknesses in our security. In reality, though, every one of those points was a dead end.

As long as Lorenzo sold that map to any rival family in exchange for cash, his betrayal would be undeniable. Not even God could save him then.

The bait was cast, and I waited for the fish to bite.

However, I underestimated what hatred can turn a man into.

Late that night, there was a violent storm.

The gates of the estate were hammered on.

Soaked to the bone, Lorenzo burst in, clutching the fake map. He stumbled straight into Don Moretti’s bedroom before dropping to his knees at the bedside.

“Don Moretti! Someone’s trying to destroy the family!”

He held up the document I had leaked on purpose, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I intercepted this intelligence! Someone sold our estate’s defense map to outsiders! I rushed back overnight. I was afraid something would happen!”

Don Moretti took the map, his face darkening.

Then he looked at me, standing at the doorway.

For the first time, doubt entered his eyes.

“Elena, this falls under your authority.”

His voice was ice-cold. “How did a top-secret defense map circulate outside? If Lorenzo hadn’t intercepted it and brought it back, would we all have died in our sleep tonight?”

I looked at Lorenzo, kneeling on the floor.

His head was lowered. His shoulders shook violently, as if he were crying.

I knew better, though.

He was laughing.

This round, I lost. He’d turned a burning potato into a shield, cleansed himself completely, and even bit back at me for negligence.

“It was my oversight.” I lowered my head.

Don Moretti let out a long sigh and reached out to stroke Lorenzo’s wet hair.

“Come back, my boy. The family needs you.”

Lorenzo lifted his head, tears streaming down his face, and looked straight at me.

“Elena, I’m back.”

To celebrate the lost lamb’s return to the flock, Don Moretti hosted a special family dinner.

The long table was draped in white linen, and the silverware gleamed under the lights. Aside from Don Moretti, Lorenzo, and me, every core member of the family was present.

Lorenzo looked nothing like his old self. Even the beard he’d kept for years had been shaved clean, leaving him looking humble and obedient.

“Elena.”

He stood up, holding a thick stack of documents, and walked toward me.

“I was an asshole before and so immature. These past months, I’ve thought things through. These are deals I secured through my own connections. Please consider them my apology.”

There were several international trade contracts. The projected profits were staggering, enough to make the elders at the table visibly restless.

“All my effort, all the credit, belongs to my beloved—you, Elena. These deals are my vow, my resolve.

“As long as you sign, all profits are yours to control.” He handed me the pen, posture lowered. “I only want to do something for the family.”

The elders nodded, murmuring among themselves, praising Lorenzo’s “growth”.

Even Don Moretti smiled in relief.

“Elena, sign it. The Moretti family has an old saying. Husband and wife may fight in bed, but when morning comes, they still share the same sky.”

I took the documents and flipped through them quickly.

As expected.

On the surface, it showed massive profits. Underneath, however, it was nothing but landmines.

Lithium mining rights in a war zone, shipping routes running straight through pirate waters, and most amusing of all, the guarantor was a shell company.

These deals were guaranteed to explode.

If I signed, I’d become the sinner of the Moretti family.

It was a classic honey trap. He wanted to blow me apart with sugar-coated bullets.

“What? You won’t forgive me?” Lorenzo asked shakily, eyes reddening.

“Lorenzo.” I closed the folder. The snap was crisp and loud.

“You really have grown, learning to fool people with this kind of garbage.”

The room fell dead silent.

I flung the documents straight at his face, leaving pages scattered everywhere.

“Page three, clause four—mining rights valid for only three months. Page eight, clause two—liquidated damages at ten times the principal.”

I stood up and looked at him. “You brought this to me to sign? Do you think I’m blind or that everyone here is blind? Trash is still trash. A trip to Trinacria just turned you into trash with mud on it.”

Lorenzo stood there as the paper sliced across his cheek.

He didn’t get angry. Instead, he grew strangely calm.

“Elena, you really are smart.”

His voice trembled slightly. “So smart it makes it hard for people… to live.”

“Lorenzo!” Don Moretti frowned. “What is going on? Explain yourself!”

Lorenzo didn’t look at Don Moretti. He slowly bent down as if to pick up the scattered papers.

At that moment, a female server approached with a tray of red wine. Her head was lowered, but her figure looked oddly familiar.

When she reached my side, her wrist suddenly jerked.

The full glass of wine spilled across my chest.

Dark red liquid streamed down my white dress, resembling dried blood.

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, Madam!” The server screamed in panic.

I looked at her coldly and raised my hand.

“Smack!”

The slap was heavy, knocking off her server’s cap. Blonde hair spilled down, revealing a worn yet still garishly familiar face.

It was Sophia.

“Looks like Trinacria’s soil really suits people. Even you managed to crawl back,” I said, pulling out a napkin and wiping my hand, my tone sharp with mockery.

Sophia covered her cheek.

She didn’t cry, but grimaced at me. “Yes. I’m back. Elena, did that slap feel good?”

“I’ve had enough!”

The roar snapped through the room, cutting off my thoughts.

Lorenzo straightened violently, a wineglass clenched in his hand. He hurled it to the floor.

“Crash!”

Glass exploded across the marble.

That sound was a signal.

The family guards stationed by the doors drew their guns not toward any outside threat, but toward the elders seated along the table.

“Lorenzo! What are you doing?!” the consigliere screamed in terror.

“Rat-tat-tat—”

The burst from a submachine gun swallowed his voice whole. Blood erupted from the consigliere’s chest as he toppled backward, chair and body crashing to the floor.

Screams, gunfire, and shattering porcelain filled the room. In an instant, the banquet hall turned into a slaughterhouse.

“Stop it! Lorenzo! Have you lost your mind?!” Don Moretti rose unsteadily, pointing at him, his hand shaking violently.

Lorenzo stepped over the bodies and stopped in front of Don Moretti.

All traces of humility were gone. What remained was the feral gleam of a beast.

“Don Moretti, you’re the one getting old,” Lorenzo said, pulling out a silver handgun.

“Since you can’t bring yourself to deal with Elena, too afraid to break free from the Bernardi family’s grip, I’ll do it for you. From now on, this family belongs to me, Lorenzo.”

“Bang!”

There was no hesitation.

The bullet punched straight through Don Moretti’s forehead. His eyes widened in disbelief as he fell backward, stiff and lifeless.

The man known as the Old Lion died just like that, shot by his own underboss.

I reached for the gun strapped to my thigh, only for two cold gun barrels to slam against the back of my head.

Two guards pinned my shoulders down, forcing me back into my chair.

Lorenzo blew lightly on the smoking muzzle, stepped on Don Moretti’s corpse, and walked toward me.

“Look, Elena.” He lifted my chin with the barrel of his gun, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Now tell me, who’s the trash?”

Sophia scrambled up from the floor.

At some point, a boning knife had appeared in her hand, and she swayed her hips as she came to my side.

“Ms. Bernardi,” Sophia said, tapping my cheek with the flat of the blade, her eyes shining with vicious delight.

“Didn’t you say you trusted me to make the right choice? Well, this is my choice!”

The cold edge slid along my skin, sending a shiver through me.

“Do you want your face carved up before you die, or do you want to die clean?” She mimicked my old tone, “I believe you’ll make the right choice. Right?”

I looked at Lorenzo’s pitch-black muzzle and then at the gleaming knife in Sophia’s hand.

The air reeked of blood, with the elders lying dead or dying.

It was a dead end.

“Go to hell, Ms. Bernardi.” Lorenzo grinned savagely, finger tightening on the trigger.

Sophia raised the knife high.

“Bang!”

The gunshot ripped through the air.

Something warm splattered across my face.

However, it wasn’t my blood.

“Ah!”

A shrill scream tore through the silent hall.

Sophia’s right wrist exploded midair. Shattered bone and flesh sprayed outward as the knife clattered to the floor.

Almost simultaneously, a second shot rang out.

Her right thigh was blown through. She collapsed to her knees like a puppet with its strings cut.

The two shots were so close they sounded like one.

Only a top-tier sniper unit could pull off a kill like that.

The savage grin froze on Lorenzo’s face.

He realized that every “family guard” who’d raised a gun earlier now had a red dot trembling on their forehead.

Unmistakably, the same crimson laser rested squarely between his brows.

“Don’t move unless you want your brain to blow out.”