On the fifth year after marrying Giovanni Santoro, the Don of the Santoro family, he decides to make a public appearance with his mistress, Valentina Conti.

He no longer denies the truth behind the romantic scandals. Videos of them that have been taken in secret, as well as salacious gossip featuring the two, are spread like wildfire in New Albion. It's an act of declaring ownership over Giovanni that he himself has silently permitted.

There are even busybodies who don't know their place and decide to prod me for answers with smiles on their faces.

"Does this mean someone else is going to replace you as the Donna of the family?"

That night, the underworld of New Albion secretly goes through a thorough purge. I file for a divorce with Giovanni immediately before marrying his biggest enemy, Franco Messina.

After that, the Santoro family goes into bankruptcy. Their power and authority easily crumble into dust.

Giovanni kneels before me. With tears running down his face, he begs me for forgiveness.

I just smile while waving the divorce agreement in my hand.

"Sorry, but we're already divorced."

Giovanni Santoro, Don of the Santoro family, had reserved the entire banquet hall at Skyline Convention Center for a university student named Valentina Conti.

Every major figure in the city had gathered—all to celebrate the 19th birthday of Giovanni's new mistress.

Everyone said he had genuinely fallen in love with Valentina. Yet, as Donna Santoro, I was the last to know.

That morning, the news was on television.

The reporter, clearly with ill intent, asked, "Ms. Conti, with an event this grand, aren't you worried Donna Santoro will hear about it?"

Valentina smiled, innocent yet bold. She pulled Giovanni close and planted her red lips on his cheek. Then, she winked at the camera. "Who will be Donna Santoro in the future? That's anyone's guess."

Silence fell over the room as the camera shifted to Giovanni.

He showed no anger and made no move to stop her. Instead, he let out a low chuckle, raised his hand, and slowly rubbed the lipstick mark on his cheek. It looked as though he were savoring it or indulging her.

I calmly took a sip of my coffee and commented, "No wonder Giovanni didn't come home last night."

Beside me, my best friend, Angela De Luca, was visibly more furious than I was. "She's humiliating you in front of everyone, and you're just sitting here?"

I shrugged, unconcerned.

"Our marriage was an alliance. There was never any real love," I replied. "As long as the Santoro family's power, money, and influence end up in my hands, I could find more mistresses for him and deliver them to his arms."

Angela looked at me, a flicker of compassion crossing her eyes.

We had been friends for over a decade. So, she knew better than anyone just how much I loved Giovanni back in my teens.

He was the only one I wanted to marry. I had thrown everything away for him, leaving myself with no way out.

…

That afternoon, Giovanni almost barreled through the door. His wool coat was wrinkled, and his collar was crooked. The perfect composure he always carried had vanished.

He was on the phone, his voice low and strained as he said, "Valentina has been abducted. Find out who did this. Use every contact we have, and I want names before tonight."

Once the call ended, Giovanni turned, and his gaze finally fell on me.

But in the next second, his hand was around my throat, merciless and unrelenting. "You'd better not let me find out it was you, or I won't forgive you."

The air was instantly sucked from my lungs. My throat tightened, and my chest gave way before I even realized I was suffocating.

I used to get jealous whenever Giovanni had mistresses. I'd even make a scene in front of them. Yet, all I got in return was being locked in a room to think about my behavior.

Over time, I learned not to make a fool of myself.

Just as my breath grew ragged and my vision began to blur, Giovanni's phone rang.

"Don Santoro, we've confirmed it. The Messina family took Valentina as a hostage. They're demanding a ceasefire."

Hearing that, Giovanni slowly loosened his grip on my neck.

The Messina family was the Santoros' sworn enemy. For years, the two sides had been at each other's throats, locked in a bloody feud with debts that could never be repaid.

Giovanni had spent eight years planning this final operation. Countless lives, resources, and favors hung in the balance tonight.

On the other end of the line, his underboss said urgently, "Don Santoro, we've spent eight years preparing this. Everyone's sacrifices must not be in vain."

After a brief silence, Giovanni finally spoke.

"Call it off. Valentina's safety comes first," he said without hesitation.

I looked at him, but my thoughts involuntarily drifted back to many years ago.

When I first started dating Giovanni, I had been taken by a rival family as well. They called him, threatening, "Hand over the arms business, or we'll kill her."

Back then, he simply said, "I won't hand it over even if you kill her. This was built on my men's blood and sweat."

Later, they realized I held no leverage over them and lowered their guard, giving me the chance to finally escape.

When I returned, I cried and told Giovanni how terrified I had been.

But he sighed impatiently. "Being with me is inherently dangerous. I'm Don of the Santoro family. Are you sure you still want to be with me?"

Back then, I loved him too much. So, I agreed without a second thought.

I never imagined that principles could be broken so easily, yet it wasn't for me.

With no feelings left, all that mattered was profit. After all these years of marriage, it was time to end it.

Giovanni returned shortly after leaving. He looked far more haggard and disheveled than he had earlier in the day.

His wool coat was creased, and his eyes were bloodshot. Even his usually immaculate hair was in disarray.

He stood rooted to the spot, as if weighing his options. After a long moment, he finally spoke, "Even after we agreed to the Messina family's ceasefire, Don Messina still refused to release Valentina. They said they'd let her go only if they could have you in return."

At that, I looked up at him.

Giovanni met my gaze. His voice was devoid of warmth as he continued, "Chiara, you've been kidnapped before, so you know what it's like. But Valentina is just a college student. I'm afraid she won't be able to handle it."

For a moment, it felt like something kept piercing my heart, the pain stealing my breath.

Giovanni seemed to have completely forgotten that I, too, had once lived a happy life. Growing up, my biggest worry had been dodging ants on the sidewalk.

It was because of him that I had been kidnapped. Even then, he hadn't uttered a single word of concern.

I took a deep breath, suppressing the pain.

"Fine. But I have one condition. I want 10% of the Santoro family's shares," I replied, my voice calm and cold.

The Santoros were one of the top two mafia families in New Albion. Even owning just 10% of their shares was enough to shake the city.

Giovanni clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily. As if afraid I might change my mind, he answered without hesitation, "Va bene. I agree."

…

Soon, the share transfer agreement was printed.

I watched Giovanni sign at the bottom. Once I was sure everything was in order, I rose with a smile and followed him to rescue Valentina.

As the convoy assembled, hushed murmurs from his men drifted to my ears.

"Poor Donna Santoro," one of them began. "I can't believe she traded her life for Don Santoro's mistress."

Another chimed in, "What choice did she have? If she hadn't agreed, he'd have divorced her for sure."

I almost laughed out loud.

What a joke. Since this was my own decision, I could handle a little risk.

After all, I was walking away with 10% of the Santoros' shares. Love meant nothing compared with power.

…

Once the exchange was completed, my hands were bound behind me, and they pinned me to a chair.

Giovanni, on the other hand, rushed to Valentina, hastily undoing the ropes around her wrists. He held her hands and murmured reassurances.

All the while, his eyes scanned her from head to toe, afraid he might miss even the smallest injury.

I sat there, watching the scene unfold. Yet, I felt strangely calm.

Franco Messina, Don of the Messina family, glanced at me before returning his attention to Giovanni and Valentina.

A faint, inscrutable smile tugged at his lips. Then, he looked at me again.

"So, this is the marriage you dreamed of? And that's the man you fell in love with?" he asked, his tone both amused and mocking.

I looked away and said, "We meet again."

After my kidnapping, the investigation revealed that Franco had once been the boy who lived next door to me.

Back then, his skin was tanned, and he had a way of capturing attention effortlessly.

Having won the football game, Franco removed his gear and glanced up at the stands. It was as if he were searching for someone.

Later, I realized he had been looking at me.

After that, he pressed the medal into my hand. His tone was carefree but firm, leaving no room for refusal.

However, at the time, I only had eyes for Giovanni. It wasn't until he had betrayed me again and again that I finally gave up on him.

Now, Franco and I crossed paths again. But this time, it was in the most awkward and ridiculous of situations.

In the distance, Giovanni finally lifted his head, having ensured Valentina was unharmed. His expression darkened instantly.

He drew a gun, swinging it in the air before fixing it on Franco and me.

"Anyone who harms Valentina will pay the price," Giovanni stated, his calm voice laced with deadly intent.

Franco let out a cold chuckle before drawing his gun without hurry. As soon as he released the safety, figures emerged from the shadows.

Dark barrels rose in unison, all aimed at Giovanni.

"Chiara is still here," said Franco.

I wasn't sure if I was imagining it, but I thought I detected a flicker of unease in his voice.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. He was the Don of the Messina family, after all. What could possibly make him nervous?

Giovanni chuckled softly, yet his eyes remained cold. "You made me bring my wife here, and now, you're telling me no one is to hurt her?"

In an instant, he aimed his gun at me, saying, "Chiara Ricci, I knew this had something to do with you. Did you stage the last abduction, too?"

As he spoke, he pulled a photo from his pocket. It was a picture of Franco and me as children.

Giovanni went on, "I had my men look into it. Apparently, Don Messina's childhood home was right next door to the Ricci family's."

In the blink of an eye, a gunshot tore through the air.

The bullet ripped through my chest, the force hurling me backward. The jeweled necklace on my chest shattered, and the gemstones scattered across the cold floor.

My eyes widened in shock. The heartache I felt far outweighed the tearing agony coursing through my body.

That necklace was the only thing my mother had left me.

Ten years ago, my mother died in a gunfight. Amid the hail of gunfire, she threw herself over a nine-year-old girl who had no blood relation to us at all.

My mother, however, never woke up again.

…

After Franco finished tending to my gunshot wound, I spoke up, "Let me go back to the Santoro residence."

Without warning, he leaned in so close there was nowhere for me to retreat.

"You belong to me now. If you want to leave, you'll have to leave something behind as collateral," he said.

…

Back at the Santoro residence, I pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

An unfamiliar scent hung thick in the air, and Valentina's presence was everywhere—the bedside table, the wardrobe, and even the vanity.

Her perfume and her pajamas were all there, while her lingerie lay draped carelessly over the back of a chair.

Every detail silently declared that the room's owner had changed.

I turned and went upstairs instead.

The door to Giovanni's study was slightly ajar. Through the gap, I saw Valentina seated at the computer, with Giovanni standing behind her.

His arm rested naturally around her shoulders as he leaned close to her ear. They stared at the screen together, their posture intimate and perfectly in sync.

Ever since the abduction, Giovanni hadn't been able to stop worrying about Valentina. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a college student who needed protection.

So, he planned to hand over part of the Santoro family's power to her, granting her the authority to command anyone she wished—all to ensure her safety.

I stared at Valentina's face for several seconds. But the longer I looked, the more familiar it felt.

Her features and the way her profile looked when she lowered her head all faintly overlapped with an image buried deep in my memory.

Suddenly, I remembered the little girl from ten years ago. The child my mother had shielded with her own body in the middle of a gunfight.

I ran the numbers in my head. Ten years had passed, and she would be 19 years old by now.

The thought had barely surfaced before I forced it down. There was no way such a coincidence could exist.

I was about to step inside when Alfredo Rossi, the butler, reached out and stopped me.

"Donna Santoro, Don Santoro has given orders. Without his permission, only he and Ms. Conti are allowed in the study," Alfredo whispered, his expression strained.

The door hung slightly open, and every word from inside reached me.

Valentina's voice choked with sobs, as if she were still shaken.

"Gio… I have to be honest about something," she began cautiously.

Her voice dropped even lower, laced with guilt and unease as she went on, "Chiara's mother died trying to save me when I ran back for my doll. Is that why Chiara has been targeting me? Does she already know?"

Behind the desk, Giovanni slowly twirled the pen in his fingers. The cap tapped lightly against the desktop.

He didn't deny it right away. Instead, he calmly asked, "Anything else?"

Those words pricked my heart like a needle.

"That's all. Should I… apologize to Chiara?" Valentina asked.

"I thought it was something serious."

Then, Giovanni reassured her, "This isn't your fault. It has nothing to do with you. You were a victim of the shootout, too. Besides, that doll mattered to you. Any normal person would understand that.

"Fate has its way with everyone. Chiara's mother brought it on herself. She chose to die, so what could you have done to stop it?"