"The Rossi family doesn't need a Don. We just need a Donna."

As the only heiress of the Rossi family, this was the law that I had set when I received the Browning pistol—a pistol that resembles the ultimate authority in the Rossi family—from my Papa when he was on his deathbed.

But three years ago, the police relentlessly investigated the money laundering business that my fiance, Lorenzo Moretti, was in charge of.

If that business were to get exposed, the Rossi family's hundred-year-old legacy would be ruined.

In order to protect my family's legacy and to allow Lorenzo to continue legalizing my family's businesses, I decided to become the scapegoat for all the crimes.

On the rainy night of my arrest, I personally handed the pistol over to Lorenzo.

"Protect my family for me before my return."

This gave Lorenzo legitimate authority to run my family.

He used the pistol to purge my subordinates and take over the family business. He even broke my law by announcing to the public that he'd become the next Don soon.

An invitation with golden borders is soon leaked from the family's inner circle. Lorenzo's and another woman's names are printed on the cover.

During a visit, my private lawyer says mockingly, "If you don't get out of prison now, the Rossi family might take on another man's last name for real."

I just sneer in response. After that, I get bailed out of jail in advance and return home to celebrate Lorenzo's "funeral".

But no matter how many times I scan my iris at the biometric scanner in the estate, the result always comes out wrong.

A young woman, who's toying with the pistol, opens the door at that moment. The contempt and disdain in her eyes are plain to see.

"Where the hell did a crazy woman like you come from? You came to the wrong place. This is my private turf, you know."

I stood before the Cicelyan-style wrought-iron gates, the cold wind cutting straight through my thin gray prison uniform.

The Browning M1911 had been mine since I was 18 years old. On the day of my coming-of-age, my Papa engraved the family crest into the grip with his own hands and placed it in mine.

Now, it was spinning between the fingers of a woman who looked barely 20. The muzzle drifted carelessly past my brow, like she was eager for some fun.

I could even smell Rosa da Sparo—Gunpowder Rose—on her. It was my perfume, the only bottle in the world, custom-made to celebrate my ascension as the Donna.

"Crazy woman?"

I digested the word, my gaze sliding down to the legs wrapped in expensive stockings. "If I remember right, everything within 1,640 feet of this estate is a controlled zone. Even a fly needs my permission to get in."

Her name was Sofia Ricchi. I had seen it on the family roster before I went to prison. Back then, she was nothing more than a casino dealer, an Associate at most.

Sofia leaned against the doorframe, idly toying with the cocked gun. Her eyes were full of contempt, with a hint of naive cruelty.

"That was before, hag," she said, lips curling. "This territory belongs to Lorenzo now. Oh, right—I should've said 'your ex' instead. He told me you cried your eyes out writing him letters while you were inside."

She chuckled. "He said just seeing your letters pissed him off. 50 dollars a month—that's what he wired you, just enough to keep you from starving in there. He didn't want you coming out, looking like a skeleton, and embarrassing him."

50 dollars… I took the fall for Lorenzo Moretti, and in return, I slept with bedbugs and psychos in that women's prison. I ate every interrogation the cops threw at me.

When two of my ribs were broken, he was out drinking and screwing his way through the city. When I bribed guards with that 50 dollars to get painkillers, he was popping champagne in this very estate with this woman.

"Move."

I had no interest in wasting breath on a bimbo playing guard dog. I reached out and pushed at the gate.

"Hey! Don't touch my gate with those filthy hands!" Sofia shrieked and slammed the iron gate shut.

The crash of metal rang through my skull, sharp enough to make my ears buzz. She stared at me through the bars, as if she were looking at a stray mutt.

"Get lost now, or I'll have security treat you like an intruder. This place no longer welcomes trash like you anymore."

I dug the satellite phone out from the sole of my shoe and dialed Lorenzo. "Why did you delete my iris scan, Lorenzo? And who's this idiot pointing a gun at me? You'd better have a damn good explanation."

The line crackled with chaos, somewhere between a meeting and a hedonistic party. Seconds dragged, then his magnetic voice came through with unmistakable impatience.

"Vittoria? How the hell are you out already? I'm in the middle of a sit-down with some Capos. The signal's bad here."

He paused, showing none of the relief, guilt, or surprise I had expected—only irritation at a plan gone awry. "Find a hotel for the night. The estate… isn't suitable for you to enter right now."

I laughed through the ache twisting my stomach. "Isn't suitable, you say? That property is mine—my Papa left it to me. And you're telling me I can't enter?"

"Enough, Vittoria. Calm down. Sofia just joined the family, and she doesn't have a place to stay. You know the streets aren't safe right now, so I lent her the estate temporarily to keep her protected. She's young and alone—our rivals might prey on her."

Protection? Since when did protecting a new member mean letting them stay in my bedroom, wear my clothes, and sleep with my man?

"Lorenzo," I said coldly, "you'd better show up in ten minutes. Otherwise, don't blame me for forgetting the years we shared."

"Vittoria!" he shouted into the phone. "Can you relax for five seconds? You just got out! It's my birthday today, as well as the family's victory celebration. Do you have to ruin everything now?"

With that, he hung up decisively.

I stared at my home screen, and the last shred of hope I had left for him vanished. Those three years in prison were ground under his feet like nothing.

The iron gate creaked open again. This time, Sofia appeared with a glass of red wine in hand. She sipped it slowly, looking at me as if I were inferior to her.

"You hear that? He told you to get out of here. This place is our love nest. Meanwhile, you're a washed-up hag who doesn't even qualify to be our maid."

Then, just for flair, she tilted the glass, letting a stream of dark red spill over my shabby shoes. "Oops. How clumsy of me. Don't worry, this is an '82 Lafite. Consider it a bargain for you."

I took a deep breath and made a gesture. The sniper received the signal. A loud boom sounded the next second.

The wine glass in Sofia's hand shattered, and the broken shards flew and glided along her delicate cheek. She screamed, covering her face as blood trickled through her fingers.

I kicked down the unlocked gate, stepping across the pool of wine and glass shards, and clutched Sofia's hair. Without mercy, I flung her to the ground.

"Listen up, puttana. This gun is so sacred that not even that son of a bitch dared to touch it. Who do you think you are to play with it?"

I seized the Browning from her grasp. Clearing the chamber, I racked it with practiced ease and positioned the muzzle beneath her jaw. "Tell Lorenzo that his Donna is back."

I dragged Sofia into the main living room like a suitcase.

The priceless Renaissance oil painting that used to hang on the wall was gone. In its place was an oversized photo of Sofia and Lorenzo, pressed together as they looked deeply into each other's eyes.

What a revolting sight.

I raised the gun and fired once. The photo frame shattered, glass raining down across the floor. Sofia screamed, intending to escape, but I kicked the back of her knee, forcing her to kneel onto the shards.

"Shut up. Make another sound, and I'll slice off your tongue."

The maids came running at the noise and froze the moment they saw the scene. Most of them were unfamiliar faces, probably a bunch of new hires that Lorenzo brought in after I left.

Only one man reacted differently—the old butler. The instant he saw me, his clouded eyes filled with tears. "Donna Rossi, you're finally home!"

He tried to step forward, trembling, but a few hulking men blocked his way. They were Lorenzo's newly promoted enforcers. They were all dressed in tight suits, their muscles stretching the fabric to the brink.

"Let him go," I commanded, gun raised, my gaze sweeping over them like a blade. "Anyone who lays a finger on Mario won't see another day."

Mario Alfano was a butler who watched me grow up.

The goons exchanged looks, hesitating, as if they were stunned by my dangerous presence. Although I was still in a prison uniform with messy hair, three years inside had carved something sharp into my bones.

That kind of overwhelming presence wasn't something a bunch of suit-wearing, gym-built punks could handle.

Just then, sharp brakes screamed outside.

Lorenzo burst in with a group behind him. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, hair slicked back without a strand out of place. On his wrist was the limited-edition watch I had given him.

The moment he took in the wreckage—shattered glass and Sofia on her knees with blood all over her face—his expression dropped like a guillotine. "Vittoria, have you lost your damn mind?"

He shoved me aside and crouched immediately, carefully lifting Sofia and checking on her injury. I could see the vivid heartbreak in his eyes. "Are you okay, amore? Does it hurt?"

Sofia melted into his arms and began sobbing. "Amore mio, I'm so scared… She hit me the second she walked in—said she was going to kill me… and that this was her house. She wanted to kick us all out…"

Lorenzo snapped his head up and locked his eyes on me with oozing disgust. "How long are you planning to keep this up, Vittoria? You think this is still prison, where you can just run wild and do anything you like? Sofia's just a child! How could you do this to her?"

A child? A 20-something oversized baby playing house in my estate?

I looked at him coldly. "Lorenzo, unless you've gone blind, you should be able to see this is my house. The deed says Vittoria Rossi, not Lorenzo Morretti—and definitely not some puttana you picked up from a red-light district!"

"Shut up!" he snapped as if I had stepped on his tail, shooting to his feet. "Who's been running the family these past three years? Who kept your precious legacy intact? Me! I did!"

He continued, "If it weren't for me, the Rossi family would've been swallowed whole by the others! I live here because it makes managing family business easier, which the Consigliere approved!"

"The Consigliere?" I sneered, asking, "You mean that senile old fool, Paolo Benetti? Or the bunch of ass-kissing idiots you promoted because they clap the loudest when you talk?"

"You're being extreme, Vittoria."

Lorenzo took a deep breath, forcing calm onto his face. "I know you just got out, and you're… unstable. How about this? I've got an empty apartment in the suburbs. I'll give you the keys, and you can stay there while you cool off."

He paused, then generously added, "At the next family gathering, I'll announce some compensation for you."

Compensation? I took the fall for him and spent three years in prison, and he thought a vacant, nobody-wants-it apartment would settle the bill?

"I don't need compensation," I said, inching closer to him step by step, the muzzle drifting casually across his chest. "I just need you to get the hell out of my house and give back what's mine."

"Be smart and do as you're told," Lorenzo said. "I'll give you a sum of money that's enough to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life. Otherwise…"

I arched a brow. "Otherwise what?"

His gaze sharpened. "Otherwise, I'll treat you like I've never known you."

Suddenly, a soft meow sounded at Sofia's feet. A snow-white, long-haired cat poked its head out near her ankle. Around its neck hung a diamond necklace so bright that it was blinding.

My breath hitched. That was my Mamma's heirloom, a one-of-a-kind, priceless necklace named the Ocean's Heart.

My reasoning vanished at that moment. Without any warning, I lunged forward like a madwoman, reaching straight for the cat's neck. "Take it off now!"

Sofia shrieked and scooped the cat into her arms, stumbling backward like she had been traumatized to her core. Before my fingers could even graze the diamonds, a large hand clamped around my wrist.

The sheer force held me in place before violently shoving me to the side. Lorenzo shielded her, impatience written all over his face. "Vittoria, what the hell is wrong with you? You'll hurt Nevetta!"

I staggered, caught my balance, and locked my eyes on Sofia, who was cradling that animal and hiding behind Lorenzo.

"That's my necklace! It belonged to my Mamma!" I roared, my voice shaking with rage.

Lorenzo cleared his throat awkwardly, still shielding her. "It was just sitting in the safe collecting dust, anyway. Might as well put it to use. Sofia loves her cat, Nevetta, and the necklace suits it."

Put to use? By hanging my Mamma's heirloom around the neck of a pet?

Seeing my face flush red, he frowned and switched to that soothing, patronizing tone he liked to use when he thought he was being reasonable.

"It's just a necklace. You used to have plenty of jewelry, anyway. Having one less won't kill you. Besides, Nevetta is Sofia's baby. It's gotten used to the necklace, and removing it might upset it."

"So…" I uttered, my chest heaving. "That thing is her baby, while my Mamma's heirloom is some disposable trash?"

Seeing their ugly faces, I could no longer hold back my urge to kill. I raised my gun and fired it in their direction. The bullet grazed Lorenzo's ear and penetrated the vase behind him, shattering it.

Everyone froze. Gone were the colors from Lorenzo's face. He stared at me in disbelief. "You're actually insane, Vittoria."

"The next shot will be aimed at your head," I said flatly. "You have three seconds to take the necklace off and give it back to me."

The air in the living room was so suffocating that no one dared to move.

Clearly, Lorenzo hadn't expected me to pull the trigger. In his memory, I was the woman hopelessly in love with him. What he forgot was that before I ever met him, my name alone was enough to make all of Cicelya shudder.

I began the countdown. "Three."

Sofia's hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold Nevetta. It probably sensed my hostility, too, considering it was thrashing wildly in her arms, desperate to get away.

My finger tightened on the trigger. "Two."

"Give it to her! Just give it to her!" Lorenzo shouted at Sofia, his composure in pieces.

She sobbed as she tore the necklace off Nevetta's neck, hands shaking as she held it out to me. I took it from her, then carefully wiped away the cat hair and her scent with my sleeve before fastening it around my neck.

The cold diamonds rested against my skin, calming me, albeit minusculely.

"That's not all," I added, sweeping my gaze across the room. "The antique guns in the study, the collection in the wine cellar, as well as the haute couture in my wardrobe—return them all to me, or I'll start cutting off fingers."