I left the banquet hall and led Ryan down the bustling shopping street, hoping to get him some ice cream. He stopped crying as he ate.

I ruffled his hair, which was brown, just like Leander's.

"What do you think about going abroad, sweetheart?" I asked.

Ryan looked up at me, his voice barely a whisper. "What about Papà?"

He was only a child, forgetting things as fast as they came.

I gently wiped the ice cream from the corner of his mouth. "He'll stay here as the don, and from now on, that's what you'll call him. He's not your Papà anymore."

Ryan lowered his head, tears streaming down his cheeks once more. I could tell he couldn't stand the thought of leaving Leander—no one could easily accept being abandoned by their father.

I hesitated, unsure whether I should plead with Leander to let Ryan stay, when Ryan squeezed my hand and said firmly, "Mamma, I'll go with you. But can I spend one more birthday with Papà?"

I couldn't bear to hurt him anymore, so I pulled him close and nodded. "Okay."

Ryan's birthday fell on December 23rd. I reminded Leander two days in advance, telling him there was no need to prepare anything. He only needed to come home and spend time with Ryan.

Though Leander and I had grown apart, I still wanted Ryan to be happy.

Ryan woke up early on his birthday, put on his little suit, and stood by the window, staring at the front gate.

"Mamma, Papà is coming for my birthday, right?" Ryan asked nervously.

"Of course, he is."

I adjusted his collar, even though I felt just as anxious as he did. I'd already sent Leander five text reminders, but he hadn't replied to any of them.

The ice cream cake on the table was beginning to melt. Ryan lowered his head, unwrapped the candles, and gently placed them on the cake. There were six in all.

After a long pause, Ryan murmured as if he had just realized something. "Papà isn't coming, is he?"

He even tried to comfort me when he saw the apologetic look on my face. "It's okay, Mamma. I'm happy you're here to celebrate with me. He must be really busy being the don, so we shouldn't bother him."

It was the first time Ryan had called Leander "don"—respectful, yet distant. In that moment, he seemed to grow up, accepting that Leander would never care for him. But his reddened eyes betrayed the hurt he was trying to hide.

He was only six, after all.

Upon seeing Ryan's sadness, masked by false bravery, filled me with such fury that it made my chest ache. I grabbed my phone, ready to call Leander and give him a piece of my mind.

Just then, a notification popped up. It was a message from Leander. "Come to Beaumont Manor."

I showed the message to Ryan. "See, Ryan? He didn't forget your birthday, after all."

Ryan's face lit up with a bright smile, and he pulled me toward the door.

The whole ride there, Ryan kept wondering what surprise Leander had in store for him. He kept smoothing out his clothes, muttering to himself, "Papà is the most powerful mafia don in Westrael. I'm his son. I can't embarrass him."

Before long, we arrived at Beaumont Manor, and my smile froze. A red carpet lined with roses stretched all the way from the entrance. This wasn't exactly the kind of decor one would expect at a child's birthday party.

Of course, Ryan didn't notice at all. He happily opened the car door, jumped out, and dashed inside. I stayed close behind, my pulse racing, desperately hoping I was wrong about my fears.

The party was in full swing on the lawn, with an impressive champagne tower and a three-tiered buttercream cake on display.

Ryan's eyes lit up the moment he spotted Leander by the cake. "Papà!"

Ryan rushed forward, excited, and threw his arms around Leander. But Leander didn't return the embrace. Instead, he shoved Ryan away in shock, demanding, "What are you doing here?"

I felt my heart drop then.

"Isn't this Don Beaumont and Ms. Fowler's engagement party? I heard both families were here. How could he suddenly have a grown son? What an embarrassment for them!"

The murmurs around us grew louder, closing in like a tightening noose.

Leander's expression darkened as he took a few steps back, his glare locking onto Ryan. "What did you just call me?"

Terrified, Ryan froze under Leander's fury, his tears welling up but refusing to fall. Leander had taught him that a man in the mafia must never cry.

After a long pause, Ryan spoke with a trembling voice. "Don Beaumont."

Leander's expression softened a little at Ryan's words. The murmurs around them faded away.

Ryan glanced at the large cake nearby and asked, "Don Beaumont, is this party for me? Can I cut the cake with you?"

He'd been looking forward to this day for so long. Even if he couldn't call Leander "Papà", just being with him would be enough.

Just then, Dinah—decked out in heavy makeup and a revealing red gown—sidled up to Leander, slipping her arm through his.

"I'm afraid not, darling. Tonight's engagement party is a private event, and I don't believe outsiders are invited."

She didn't even glance at Ryan, speaking only to Leander.

It finally sank in—Dinah had planned everything today. She was the one who sent the message that lured Ryan and me here.

Public humiliation wasn't her only goal. She also wanted to corner Leander into calling us outsiders in front of everyone.

Dinah wasn't the only one with her eyes on Leander. I stepped forward, shielding Ryan, and met Leander's eyes. My voice was low. "Is that true? Do you really see Ryan and me as outsiders, Leander?"

The commotion attracted more people, including Marcella and the Fowlers' current capo.

Leander went pale. Marcella coughed pointedly behind him. At last, he dropped his head and muttered, "You're right. They're outsiders."

Dinah laughed smugly, lifting her chin like she'd just won a battle.

The crowd turned on Ryan and me, accusing us of ruining what had been a joyful celebration. Some recognized me and muttered that I was trying to seduce Leander again with the same old tricks.

Ryan stood frozen, trembling under the weight of their taunts.

Rage surged through me. I stormed up to the champagne tower and yanked a glass from the bottom. Behind me, the tower teetered, then crashed, sending shards of glass skittering across the floor as guests screamed.

Golden champagne drenched half of Dinah's hair.

I raised my champagne glass to Leander and said, "Since this is such a joyful occasion, here's to a lifetime of happiness."

With that, I downed the glass in one gulp and let it shatter at my feet. I grabbed Ryan's hand, turned, and walked away without looking back.

Ryan had stopped trembling, his eyes shining up at me like I was a hero. "Mamma, you're amazing!"

I smiled and scooped him into my arms, making sure Leander could hear me as I said, "From now on, Ryan is mine alone. He has no father—"

Before I could finish, two soldati stepped into my way.

How could I forget? In a mafia family, honor was sacred, and challenging it, especially at the Beaumont-Fowler engagement party, was unforgivable.

"Jenny, is this what the Bellinis call manners? Apologize, now!"

Dinah's shrill voice sliced through the air.

I pulled Ryan behind me and met Dinah's stare without flinching. I didn't care about their so-called manners. All I knew was that a Bellini would never yield.

"Apologize now, or I swear you won't leave here alive. The Fowlers will go to war with the Bellinis over this!"

My gaze flicked to Leander in the distance. Conflict twisted his face, but he stayed silent.

A bitter laugh slipped out as I remembered him blushing when we danced seven years ago; how he'd offered me a sapphire necklace when he proposed five years later; how three years ago, he'd sworn he'd rise as don and make me his only wife.

His face was already starting to fade from my mind.

For years, the Bellini family had been the most powerful mafia family in Eastrael, though we'd always remained under the radar. Papà would've already swallowed up these Westrael families if not for the fact that I was Leander's fiancée.

I couldn't help but smirk in disbelief as Dinah tried to threaten me with her family's name. "The failing Fowlers sent you to throw yourself at two successive Beaumont dons just to stay afloat.

"You're nothing but a lowly soldato's daughter from a branch family of the Fowlers. Do you really think they'd risk war with the Bellinis over you?"

I coolly laid out Dinah's predicament, watching her face twist with rage. "How dare you insult the Fowlers! Someone, get her out of here!"

Several soldati moved toward us, but Ryan stepped forward, positioning himself between me and them as he addressed Leander. "Papà… No, I mean, Don Beaumont, please don't let them hurt Mamma."

"Stop!" Leander barked.

His gaze snapped to Ryan, surprised. Ryan seemed to have matured in an instant.

Before Leander could respond, Ryan stepped back, his eyes downcast, and said flatly, "Since we're not welcome here, Mamma and I are leaving. Thanks for inviting us."

Ryan took my hand, and we turned to leave. I held on to him like he was the only thing that mattered to me.

The day before we were supposed to leave, Leander still hadn't returned. His only message said, "Don't be angry. I'll see you both soon."

I knew what kept him—wedding plans and cementing his place as don.

When the day came, I packed our bags, carried everything Ryan and I owned into the garden, and set it ablaze. Hand in hand with Ryan, I left and boarded the plane.

Before turning off my phone, I sent Leander one last message. "I'll step aside if this is what you want. Ryan and I are leaving. I hope you find happiness."