"I came to see Luca, too." She was carrying expensive offerings, her face wearing a mask of perfectly measured grief.

I looked at the simple white flowers in my hand and smiled self-deprecatingly.

Enzo's money all went to her; of course she could afford the best.

After paying respects, Enzo went to get the car.

Bianca's face changed instantly. She sneered, "Why do you think Enzo comes with you every year? Guilt. Because Luca died for him, and he was forced to marry you—his baggage."

"Three years as Mrs. Moretti and you still haven't warmed his heart? Pathetic."

I gripped the flowers tight and turned to leave, but she suddenly reached out to grab my wrist.

I dodged sideways.

Because she had used too much force and missed, she stumbled and knocked over a funeral urn that was being interred nearby.

The sound of shattering porcelain was piercing.

"What the hell are you doing!" A middle-aged man in a black suit rushed over, followed by several fierce-looking associates. He stared at the ashes scattered on the ground, his eyes instantly turning red.

"My father..." He pointed a trembling finger at Bianca. "You knocked over my father's ashes!"

Bianca collapsed onto the ground, tears flowing on command. "It wasn't me... Elena pushed me!"

I stood frozen, watching this ridiculous drama unfold.

From the distance, the sound of Enzo's hurried footsteps approached.

"What's going on?" Enzo walked up quickly, his gaze darting between the mess on the ground and me.

The man—the Underboss of the Marino family—pointed at Bianca and roared, "Enzo, your woman knocked over my father's ashes! According to the rules, you can't just walk away from this!"

Bianca grabbed Enzo's pant leg, weeping like a pear blossom bathed in rain. "Enzo, it really wasn't me... It was Elena. She's jealous that you treat me well, so she pushed me..."

"She's lying." My voice was so calm it surprised even me.

Enzo looked at me, his brow furrowed.

His gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds, then shifted to the trembling, crying Bianca.

I knew he was weighing it—on one side, his childhood sweetheart of twenty years who always needed protecting; on the other, his wife of three years.

"Bianca wouldn't lie. Elena, you have to pay for your mistakes." He finally spoke, his voice cold and hard.

In that moment, I heard something inside me shatter completely.

"Handle it according to the rules," Enzo said to the Marino family, not even glancing at me again.

As I was dragged away by two large men, the last thing I saw was Bianca leaning into Enzo's chest, the corner of her mouth quirked up in a victorious smirk.

The punishment took place in the basement.

Enzo didn't come down—Mafia rules. Punishment within the family is usually carried out by subordinates; having the Boss present would only make the enforcer hold back.

The whip was dipped in salt water. It made a dull thud every time it struck my back.

I bit through my lip on the first lash, the taste of rust spreading in my mouth.

By the tenth lash, my consciousness began to blur.

I stared fixably at a water stain on the opposite wall, counting silently in my head.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...

When the twenty lashes were done, I collapsed to the floor, the wounds on my back burning like fire.

Enzo's men dragged me back to the villa and dumped me casually on the floor, their tone filled with contempt.

"Enzo gave orders. You're to reflect on what you did. Without his permission, don't even think about contacting him."

I didn't speak. The pain on my back made every breath feel like torture.

At 2:00 AM, my phone rang. It was Smith.

"The plan has been moved up," his voice came through the encrypted line. "We move tonight. We'll stage a gas leak. Someone will meet you at Pier 3."

"Okay."

I fought through the agonizing pain to stand up. Every movement pulled at the wounds on my back.

My simple luggage was already packed—a few changes of clothes, Luca's photo, and some cash.

When I walked into the kitchen, I paused.

The gas valve was right there. One simple twist, and everything would end.

The life of Elena Rossi, the title of Mrs. Moretti, the joke of these last three years.

I opened all the valves, then struck a match.

Boom—

Flames instantly swallowed the kitchen.

I left through the secret tunnel behind the back door. It was an escape route Luca had told me about before he died—he said if Enzo ever treated me badly, I should leave through here.

I never thought I would use it under these circumstances.

When I stepped out of the tunnel, the entire villa was already engulfed in a sea of fire.

The flames painted the night sky of Little Italy red, like a grand funeral.

Enzo, I'm returning you to Bianca, fully and completely.

And as for me... from this moment on, I am officially offline from your world.