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?"

Silence enveloped the room once more.

At that moment, something inside me snapped. It was like a cord stretched tight for years finally giving way and could never be fixed.

I stared at Giovanni. This was the man who had once sat at my family's dining table, smiling as he praised my mother's tiramisu. He was the same man whose eyes were red with grief at her funeral, vowing to avenge her.

But now, he defended another woman before me. He acted self-righteously and even went so far as to insult my mother.

Trembling with fury, I stormed into the study and grabbed him by the collar. "Why are you protecting her? Why are you covering for her? She was the one who killed my mother! How can you do this?"

Giovanni's gaze darkened slightly. His movements remained steady as he held Valentina behind him with one hand.

"What are you so worked up about? Who do you think you are to question me?" he snapped. "Don't forget. You cheated on me with Franco and even conspired with him to hurt Valentina!"

I froze, as if a hammer had struck my chest. In an instant, my anger flared. "What are you talking about? I have nothing to do with Franco! He was just my neighbor when I was a kid. We haven't had any contact since they moved away!"

Giovanni waved me off, stopping me from speaking. "You don't need to explain."

I let out a quiet sigh of relief. He might not have cared for me, but at least he still trusted me.

However, what he said next sent me plunging into an icy void.

"You're my wife, so I'll allow you to make mistakes. Since Valentina wasn't hurt this time, I won't hold it against you."

Giovanni looked at me. His voice was calm, but it carried a chill that cut to the bone. "Next time, you'd better be careful."

…

I didn't have time to drown in my sorrow.

Giovanni had truly fallen in love with Valentina. My position as Donna could be taken at any moment. So, instead of waiting to be sidelined, I'd seize what I was meant to take.

I pulled out the contract he had signed to save Valentina. At the time, he had forced himself to hand over 10% of the Santoro family's shares.

Now, those shares had become a weapon I could wield.

I traced my fingers lightly over the paper and sneered. It was time for me to take control of the game.

…

Without hesitation, I went straight to Franco.

He sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The night pressed in on him, and the city lights sprawled behind him like a game waiting for his move.

Hearing me enter, Franco looked up, calm and unsurprised.

I walked up to him, then placed the documents on the table. "This is a 10% stake in the Santoro family's business. It's legally mine."

Franco glanced down but didn't touch the papers. Instead, he asked, "What do you want?"

So, I got straight to the point. "I want Giovanni and Valentina ruined and left with nothing."

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

Out of nowhere, Franco chuckled softly, but there was a danger in it that made my skin crawl.

"You don't need to trade this," he said calmly, as if stating a fact. "Because this is exactly what I planned to do."

I frowned slightly and held his gaze without flinching. "Then, we'll trade something else. I want 10% of the Messina family's shares."

The subordinate beside Franco widened his eyes despite himself. After all, no one would dare covet this seat of power.

Seconds ticked by before Franco let out a low laugh. "Va bene."

I narrowed my eyes. How would Giovanni react if he found out I had sold 10% of the Santoros' shares to the rival he hated most?

For the first time, the pleasure was real.

"Deal."

Franco replied, "From this moment on, you're more than just a business associate. You're a part of the Messina family."