In the sixth year after helping Blake secure his position as Don, I was both his wife and his sharpest blade.

Until the day of our daughter's birthday–

She was hit by a car arranged by his enemies.

As her life hung by a thread, I called him dozens of times.

He never answered.

However, I heard that he was at a casino, spending lavishly with his first love.

In that moment, whatever I felt for Blake died completely.

So when he finally returned, carrying the scent of another woman, I pretended not to notice.

Blake frowned and tried to explain, "Victoria is still young. The casino isn't safe. I had no choice but to stay with her."

I said nothing. I only nodded.

However, he suddenly flew into a rage, grabbing me by the throat, his gaze dark.

"Helena, our daughter is hurt – do you think I don't care? Do you have to keep this attitude?

"And it's just a minor injury. You're the Don's wife. Be more composed. Don't let your jealousy toward Victoria go too far."

I let out a cold laugh.

He did not know–our daughter was already gone.

And neither he nor this family needed to exist in my life anymore.

Seeing how I remained silent, Blake released his grip on my throat and casually tossed a gift box onto the table.

"Helena, Victoria is my father's old friend's daughter. She grew up by my side and has always been a bit thoughtless. You're my wife–don't stoop to her level.

"This is an apology gift from her. Let's put the past behind us."

It was a luxury gift set. I had just seen it on Victoria's social media yesterday. How the gifts were stacked high in that photo.

The caption? [Blake gave me too much. I don't even know what to do with all the extras. So annoying.]

So I was meant to deal with Victoria's unwanted leftovers.

When I did not respond, Blake's irritation flared again. His brows tightened.

"Why is the house so cold? Not even a hot meal. Helena, you're lazier by the day."

On the dining table sat our daughter's memorial portrait.

He only had to turn his head slightly to see it. However, he acted as if he were blind.

His eyes were fixed only on the timid figure at the door.

Victoria walked in.

She wore a plain white dress, like a frightened rabbit, shrinking behind Blake.

"Blake… Does Helena not welcome me? Maybe I should just leave…"

I ignored her and lowered my head, gently wiping the small wooden horse in my hands.

It was Lily's favorite toy.

Now, it housed her ashes. I traced it softly, as if touching my daughter's face.

The next second, Blake strode forward and kicked the wooden horse out of my hands.

"Enough! Victoria came to see you out of goodwill. Stop acting so cold.

"And where is Lily? Is she throwing a tantrum over a small injury? Mannerless child. Call her out to greet our guest."

Victoria spoke softly, as if trying to mediate, "Blake, Lily is probably still upset with you. After all, to her, her birthday mattered more than your work. She's just a child. Don't blame her."

My fingers tightened around the cloth, the knuckles turning white.

As expected, Blake chuckled coldly.

"Helena, you've spoiled her rotten. Call her out right now to greet Victoria, or I'll wreck her favorite toy."

He waved his hand.

The men behind him stepped forward and raised their guns, aiming at the wooden horse in the corner.

I slowly lifted my head and looked at Blake as if he were already dead.

"She's not coming out. She's asleep. Forever. She won't bother you again.

"Are you satisfied now?"

Blake scoffed, not believing a word. "Enough of this act. You won't call her out? Fine–do it."

At his command, the man pulled the trigger.

I moved instantly and grabbed his wrist–

Crack!

The man screamed as a bone in him snapped. In the blink of an eye, the gun was pressed against his head.

Blake panicked. He drew his gun and pressed it hard against my forehead.

"Helena! Have you lost your mind?! You dare touch my men?!

"Don't forget who saved your life back then!"

I did not retreat.

I, Helena Antonio, was the sole heir of the Antonio family in Sicily, the Don's daughter.

No one in this entire world, apart from my father, could make me bow. If I wanted to, I could have subdued him in a second.

However, all I could see was Lily's pale face before she died.

Covered in blood, her voice weak as she whispered, "Mom… When will Dad come home… I'll be good… I won't eat candy… I won't ask for hugs… As long as Dad comes back and loves me a little more… Okay?"

At that moment, my heart turned to ash.

I stared at the dark muzzle of the gun, the last trace of warmth in my chest extinguishing completely.

Memories surged.

Six years ago, during a power struggle within the family, I was betrayed by the underboss I trusted most.

At the critical moment, Blake took a bullet for me.

Back then, he was nothing–just an illegitimate son struggling at the bottom.

After I recovered, he confessed to me, blushing, that it was love at first sight.

My father looked down on his background.

However, because I loved him, I hid my identity and married him.

For six years, I stood by his side.

I bled for him. I took blades for him.

I used my family's power to eliminate his enemies and pushed him, step by step, into the position of Don.

The man who was ruthless to others would restrain all his violence in front of me and treat me like something precious.

I once casually said I liked limited-edition dolls. The next day, he acquired the company and built a private production line for me.

Once, at a banquet, someone dared to speak to me disrespectfully. With one gesture from Blake, that person disappeared from the city forever.

The memory of it all only made me laugh.

"Blake." I looked straight into his eyes, my voice calm. "We're even."

I turned, picked up the wooden horse from the corner, and went upstairs without looking back.

Blake stood frozen in place, staring at my back, an unfamiliar sense of fear slowly creeping into his heart.

Early the next morning, Blake got up ahead of time and prepared a full breakfast table himself.

This was one of his usual tactics.

"Helena, come down and eat."

He deliberately sat close beside me.

"Victoria just got back from abroad. She's not familiar with anything yet, which was why I neglected you. I'm free today, so I'll stay home and have a proper meal with you."

As he spoke, he picked up a slice of bacon with his fork and held it to my lips. "Don't be angry. I'll make it up to you for Lily. Whatever you want, I'll buy it for you."

I stared at the bacon, my stomach churning.

He had probably forgotten that bacon was Victoria's favorite.

As for me, after killing too many people, I could no longer stand the sight or smell of meat.

At that moment, Blake's phone rang.

The moment he answered, Victoria's sweet, cloying voice came through. "Blake, look! The puppy really loves the new toy you bought!"

The screen showed a poodle tearing into a rabbit plush.

That was Lily's birthday gift–the one she had begged for three whole months.

Blake had always said he was too busy to buy it.

Even until the day she died, Lily never even got to touch it.

So he was not busy; he had simply bought it for someone else's dog.

Victoria's voice continued, light and cheerful, "Look how happy it is, biting so hard."

I stared at the screen, killing intent rising in my eyes.

Blake noticed my expression and hurriedly ended the call, then quickly explained, "I lost a bet to Victoria again. Her dog's been a little depressed. That toy was just to keep it occupied.

"Oh, don't be so petty, Helena. It's just a toy."

'Just a toy.'

Lily would never play with it again.

As he spoke, he pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it toward me, his tone casual, almost dismissive, "Buy whatever you want for Lily. Ten, a hundred–it doesn't matter. No limit on the card. Consider it compensation for you both."

I looked at him and laughed.

Then, I slowly reached out and picked up the card.

"That's more like it. Be good–"

Crack! I snapped the card in half and threw it into the trash.

Blake's expression froze, then twisted into fury. "Helena! Don't push your luck!"

He slammed his hand against the table and stood up. "If you've got the nerve, don't spend a single cent of mine. From today onward, you don't get a dime from me."

I ignored his shouting and turned to leave.

Back in my room, I took out an encrypted phone and called my father.

"Father, I'm coming back to Sicily. I'm ready to take over the family."

"Are you sure? Once you return, everything in New York will be gone. Can you let go of that man?"

I did not hesitate. "I can."

There was a long silence on the other end.

"Good. That's my daughter. I'll come for you tomorrow."

After hanging up, I removed my wedding ring–along with everything Blake had ever given me–and threw them into the fireplace.

The flames swallowed everything, turning our past into ash.

'Blake, we're done.'

…

The next morning, the bedroom door was pushed open.

Victoria walked in, holding two cups of steaming coffee.

The smile on her face was no longer timid; it was the smile of a victor.

"Still angry, Helena?"

I ignored her, holding the wooden horse that contained Lily's ashes, staring at my daughter's portrait.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Helena, your daughter died such a miserable death.

"That day? Blake was with me, completely lost in it. I saw your call.

"But I hung up. Then I turned off my phone. Are you angry?"

The next second, her wrist tilted.

Hot coffee splashed out, spilling directly over the portrait.

Lily's smiling face blurred instantly.

"Oh no, my hand slipped."

Victoria covered her mouth in mock surprise, her eyes filled with malicious delight.

The last thread of my restraint snapped.

"You're just itching to die."

I shot to my feet, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her onto the coffee table.

Bang!

The table shattered, fragments piercing into her back.

Victoria let out a piercing scream.

I gave her no chance to struggle. I pulled the dagger hidden at my waist and raised it, about to sever her fingers.

"You hung up that call, huh? Then you don't need this hand anymore."

Just as the blade was about to fall, the door burst open.

"Stop!"

Blake rushed in and drove his foot hard into my lower abdomen.

Thump! I was sent flying, crashing heavily against the wall.

After six years together, Blake knew every old injury on my body.

That kick landed precisely where I was weakest. The old wound tore open instantly, and I choked out blood.

Victoria threw herself into his arms, sobbing pitifully. "Blake… I only came to bring Helena a cup of coffee… She lost control and tried to cut off my hand…

"Don't blame her… It's my fault… I shouldn't have come… She's just too upset…

"I'm not hurt, really…"

Blake saw the blood seeping through Victoria's back, and the concern in his eyes was impossible to hide.

"Helena, how could you be so vicious?!

"Victoria is an artist. Her hands are meant for the piano! How could someone like you–who only knows violence–hurt her?!"

I pressed a hand to my chest, forcing myself up against the wall, and wiped the blood from my lips.

"Oh, you'll regret this, Blake. You'll regret not letting me cut off her hand today."

Blake's expression turned dark.

"Since you like fighting so much…"

He raised a hand.

"Take her to the underground ring. Let my men teach her what the rules are."

…

The underground fighting arena reeked of blood and sweat. Huge iron cages surrounded the space, each holding starving, roaring beasts.

I was thrown into the central octagon.

The noise was deafening. The crowd was waiting for a slaughter.

Blake sat in the upper stands with Victoria in his arms, looking down at me from above.

"Helena, kneel and apologize to Victoria now, and I'll let you out. This ends here. You'll still be my wife."

I stood in the cage, my back straight as a spear.

I glanced at them with disdain. "In your dreams."

Blake's face darkened instantly. "You're asking for death."

He gestured coldly. "Teach her the rules. Leave her breathing."

A flicker of satisfaction passed through Victoria's eyes.

Three heavily built Muay Thai champions stepped into the cage.

They looked at me like prey, their lips curling with crude smiles as they lunged forward together.

What Blake did not know was that, since childhood, my father had made me train under masters of combat. I learned skills meant to kill.

Soon, the sound of bones snapping echoed through the arena.

In less than 10 minutes, all three champions lay on the ground, their limbs broken. Not one of them could even cry out.

A flash of shock crossed Blake's eyes.

Perhaps he remembered the day he first saved me, when I was covered in wounds, yet still looked at him like death itself.

Victoria screamed, clutching her chest, trembling. "Blake… I'm scared… My hands won't stop shaking… Will I never be able to play the piano for you again…?"

Blake's face turned cold. He stood abruptly. "All of you–get in there! Don't stop until she apologizes!"

In an instant, over a hundred of his men, armed with clubs, flooded into the cage.

A black mass.

This was no fight; it was a massacre.

A bloodthirsty smile curved at my lips. "Come."

The next several minutes became a nightmare the arena would never forget.

I was covered in blood, yet I crushed my way forward, stepping over bodies, forcing my way out of the cage and straight toward Blake.

I charged toward Victoria, killing intent burning in my eyes. "I'm going to kill you."

Victoria screamed. "Blake! Save me! She's a monster!"

Blake panicked. He had never seen me like this.

He pulled Victoria behind him and raised his gun, aiming at me with trembling hands.

"Helena, I'll wipe out your entire family if you touch her!"

I let out a cold laugh and kept moving forward.

Bang!

A gunshot was heard.