Dante rushed over like a hurricane.

He quickly shielded Elena, who was on the ground, in his arms. Those deep, brooding blue eyes locked onto me, looking as if he wanted to tear me apart right there.

"Sophia Moretti! You've only been back from Europe for a few days, and you're already throwing your weight around as the heir?"

He growled through gritted teeth, his voice trembling with rage.

"Do you think everything in this world can be bought with money? Apart from being born lucky, what do you have?"

He looked down at Elena, who was crying her heart out in his arms, his movements as gentle as if he were protecting a rare treasure.

"Elena is a woman with a soul, a noble woman. She's different from a Mafia viper like you, who reeks of old money!"

Mafia viper?

Hearing that term, I actually wanted to laugh.

In my past life, to help him gain legitimacy, to turn him from a killer in the shadows into a legal business elite, how much blood did I get on my hands? How many bullets did I take for him?

But in his heart, I was always just a "stinking rich" burden.

"If you kneel down and apologize to Elena right now, I might consider saving you some face at the engagement party," Dante added coldly, his tone sounding like charity to a beggar.

"Apologize?"

I chuckled, the sound echoing bleakly in the empty hallway.

"Dante, did you forget who gave you that handmade custom suit you're wearing? Or who gave you the dock businesses you control?"

I took a step forward, forcing him to look me in the eye.

"You are just a dog raised by the Moretti family. A dog actually wants its owner to apologize to a stray cat by the roadside?"

Dante's face instantly turned iron-gray, the scar on his forehead twisting with rage.

That scar was from when he was fourteen, protecting me from a rival gang's knife.

I used to think it was proof of his love. Now, it looks like nothing more than a bodyguard's badge of honor.

"Sophia, you have a death wish!" He took a sharp step forward, his large hand gripping my wrist tightly, the force almost breaking my bone.

"Don't blame Sophia! It's my fault for being here!"

Elena suddenly screamed and lunged forward, trying to pull us apart.

She shouted about stopping the fight, but her high heel stomped precisely on the pendant I had dropped during the shove.

Snap.

It was a very faint cracking sound.

My blood froze instantly.

That pendant, inlaid with an emerald, was the only thing my mother left me before she died.

She died in a car bomb attack meant for my father. When she died, she was still holding me tight.

I pushed Dante away and squatted down, trembling.

The gold chain was broken. The expensive gem had shattered into several pieces under Elena's heel, scattered miserably on the carpet.

"Oh! My God! I'm sorry, Sophia! I didn't mean to. I was just too panicked..."

Elena covered her mouth, backing away in fear, but the fleeting look of pleasure in her eyes didn't escape me.

Dante glanced at the fragments on the floor, then at my pale face. A flash of something strange crossed his eyes.

But he quickly reverted to that look of disgust, turning his head away stiffly:

"It's just a piece of jewelry, isn't it? The Moretti family isn't short on jewelry. Don't act like a victim here; it makes me sick."

I picked up the cold fragments. My fingertips were cut, oozing red blood.

I didn't cry, and I didn't make a scene.

I just looked up and stared at Dante like I was looking at a dead man.

"You're right, Dante."

I stood up, clutching the fragments in my palm, blood dripping through my fingers.

"This trash really doesn't deserve to stay in the Moretti Manor anymore."

"From now on, you are free."

I turned around, my back resolute.

"Take your angel and get the hell out of my sight."

I slowly lifted my head, my gaze looking past the blood between my fingers, and stared at his face, which was written all over with impatience and disgust. The last shred of the warm illusion of being "childhood sweethearts" in my heart was thoroughly shattered by his own hands.

In Dante's eyes, everything about the Moretti family, including my feelings, was nothing but cheap goods piled up with blood-stained cash.

I didn't cry. I didn't even frown.

Under everyone's gaze, I simply used my slightly trembling hands to pick up the dusty emerald fragments, piece by piece.

Then, I walked around them and stepped into the shadows without looking back.

From that moment on, I knew I was completely free.

Over the next few days, I began to methodically sever all my ties with this underworld empire.

The three custom Ferraris my father gave me, the sets of Van Cleef & Arpels jewelry in the safe, and those limited-edition handbags that symbolized the status of "Miss Moretti"—I sent them all to the underground auction house to be cashed out.

After tens of millions of dollars hit my account, I used an anonymous account to transfer all of it into the Moretti Group's secret medical charity fund.

However, Dante somehow caught wind of it.

He thought I was playing some hard-to-get game again and stormed onto my private terrace in a rage.

"Sophia! What the hell are you trying to do?"

He blocked me against the railing, breathing heavily, fire burning in his eyes.

"Selling off all your assets and then donating money anonymously... Do you think playing this 'saint act' will move me? Do you think it proves you're nobler than Elena?"

"Let me tell you, even if you donated the entire Moretti family vault, a killer's blood still runs in your veins! You don't even compare to a single strand of Elena's hair!"

I didn't stop organizing the documents in my hands. I didn't even look at him.

But he suddenly grabbed my arm and slammed me against the cold stone pillar, his grip strong enough to almost crush my bones.

"Doesn't your Moretti family just want to use me to whitewash your reputation so those old-money tycoons will accept you?"

He leaned close to my ear, his tone low and filled with humiliation.

"Too bad, Sophia. The smell of blood doesn't wash off. You make me sick."

In my past life, he used words like these to torture my heart countless times.

But right now, I just raised my eyes, looked calmly at this man I once loved more than life itself, and gave him a professional smile.

"Mr. Dante."

I gently, without any lingering attachment, broke free from his grip and smoothed the wrinkles on my silk shirt.

"You're right."

"I really shouldn't use the family's 'blood money' to taint those truly pure souls."

Watching his expression stiffen instantly at my cold address, I continued unhurriedly:

"So I decided to go see hell for myself. To do something actually meaningful."

Before he could react, I walked straight past him.

Dante obviously didn't catch my drift.

In his logic filled with prejudice, I was doing all this just to get attention, to make him, the "family successor," change his mind.

To counter my "show," he started spoiling Elena even more aggressively.

The next day, Elena appeared in front of me wearing an exquisite cross necklace.

It was the only keepsake Dante's mother had left before she died.

She had the look of a victor on her face, her fingertips gently caressing the necklace.

"Dante gave this to me. He said only a girl with clean hands and a pure soul like me deserves to be his bride."

I didn't even lift my eyelids. I turned a page of the medical report, my voice cold and flat.

"Congrats. It suits your skin tone."

Not long after, Dante had his entourage send me a jewelry box, supposedly as "compensation" for breaking the pendant.

It was a common plastic packaging box, so cheap it was almost laughable.

Elena sat on the velvet sofa nearby, covering her mouth and giggling.

"Sophia, Dante has been dealing with the gang war at the docks recently. He must be too busy, so he just bought whatever. How about... after we get married, I'll go with you to a proper mall to pick out a good one?"

I picked up the cheap box and walked to the edge of the terrace.

Under Elena's shocked gaze, I didn't even look at it and threw it straight down.

Nothing could replace my mother.

In that dark past life filled with smoke and betrayal, that pendant was my only emotional anchor. Since it was broken, let it be broken completely.

"Sophia! How dare you..."

Elena was so angry her face turned pale.

I ignored her screaming.

I was busy counting the contraband antibiotics for the illegal clinic at the Mexican border.

A few days later, the Moretti family held a grand charity fundraising gala. Everyone who was anyone in the city—whether suited politicians or Mafia thugs—was there.

Father insisted I attend. He said this was the ceremony for the Moretti heir to officially take over the family foundation.

Dante and Elena were, of course, on the guest list.

At the climax of the gala, the big screen began to play the Moretti family's "charity history."

It was a PR stunt meant to whitewash the peace.

When a yellowed photo appeared on the screen, my breath suddenly stopped—it was my mother, taken during a free clinic in the slums a month before she died.

The host spoke in a sentimental tone: "The establishment of the Moretti Foundation stems from the dying wish of the late Mrs. Moretti. She dedicated her life to eliminating the trauma caused by violence..."

Just then, I heard mean whispers coming from the booth behind me.

"Dante, look. The Mafia are such good actors."

It was Elena's voice, carrying that self-righteous mockery.

"Dragging out a dead wife to build an image. It's truly disgusting."

Dante snorted coldly, his voice full of disdain.

"It's called gang culture. The nouveau riche always want to put a gold rim on their blood-stained gloves. Maybe that woman's death was a sympathy trap they staged themselves, just to escape legal punishment."

"Possibly," Elena added viciously.

"To clean up their image, they even exploit their own mother. That depressed look Sophia always has is probably an act for the old man too."

My fingernails dug hard into my palm, blood dripping down my fist onto my expensive evening gown.

But I heard something even more heartbreaking.

Dante's voice was very low but filled with cold disgust.

"Moretti women are synonymous with hypocrisy, cruelty, and selfishness to the bone. They have no hearts, only a thirst for power and money. Do you think Sophia really loves me? She's just using me to secure her position."

I couldn't listen anymore.

I stood up abruptly, pushed through the crowd, and stood in front of them.

Seeing my pale face, Dante showed not a shred of guilt but raised an eyebrow provocatively.

"What? The princess can't handle the truth? Are you going to use the family ban to suppress me again?"

"Dante."

I tried hard to suppress the urge to pull the self-defense dagger from my boot.

"You can hate me, you can look down on the Moretti family, but please show some basic respect for my dead mother."

"Respect?"

He sneered, standing up to look down at me.

"Respect a Mafia wife? Don't make me laugh. People like you—hell is the only place you belong."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

When I opened them again, the last spark in my eyes had completely gone out.

I didn't say a word. I just turned around and walked out of the brilliantly lit banquet hall.

Heading straight for the private airfield, I boarded the helicopter to the lawless zone ahead of schedule.

This dirty circle, full of lies and filth—I didn't want to stay a second longer.

Goodbye, Dante.

Never to see you again.

...

Three days later, New York, St. Patrick's Cathedral.

The engagement ceremony between the Moretti family and the heir was held as scheduled.

Dante wore an ink-black suit, his expression cold and solemn.

He thought I would force him to submit like usual, forcing him into the grave of marriage.

The MC announced on stage with an impassioned tone:

"Now, let us welcome the star of the night, the Moretti family's Enforcer, Mr. Dante, and his fiancée—"

The MC paused, and under the gaze of all the powerful figures, read out the name Dante would never forget:

"The honorary medical student sponsored by the Moretti family, Miss Elena Ward!"

Dante suddenly looked up, watching Elena, dressed in a white wedding gown and looking triumphant, slowly walking toward him.

He looked like he had been struck by lightning, even unconsciously taking a step back.

"...Are you kidding me? My fiancée isn't her!"