I dragged my battered body through the cold corridors of the Donovitch estate, each movement sending searing pain through my whipped back. I ignored the agony.

In my past life, this was about when I received the news that my father had been shot dead.

I didn't know the details then, didn't understand what had happened. But now I did.

My father, Don of the Volkov family, though stripped of real power, was still my only family.

I had to save him. Since God had given me this second chance, I would change his fate.

My first thought was Leone.

The Donovitch family had formidable power; even a small team could turn the situation around.

I found him in the solarium with Anastasia, selecting wedding dress fabrics.

Silks and satins covered the long table, the air filled with sweetness and luxury.

"Leone," I interrupted them, my voice hoarse with urgency, "I need your help. My father's dealing in New York has gone wrong. He's been ambushed and needs immediate backup!"

Leone looked up from a stack of silk samples, his brow slightly furrowed with annoyance at being disturbed. "Trouble with the Volkov family?"

His tone was dismissive. "Shootouts happen in New York every day. Tell your Soldatos to handle it themselves."

"They can't handle it!" I stepped forward, nearly grabbing his arm. "It was an ambush, Leone! He needs Donovitch support, your men. We've always had a working relationship, haven't we?"

Anastasia gently set down the fabric in her hand, clinging to Leone's arm with her distinctive, delicate voice: "Leone, my love, New York is our territory. If there was a serious firefight, our informants would have heard and reported to you. How could there be no news at all?"

She turned to me with seemingly innocent curiosity: "Elena, are you perhaps too anxious and misunderstood what you heard?"

"I didn't misunderstand!" I pulled out my phone, showing him my father's distress message and the shocking photo of the scene—a chaotic warehouse with flashes of gunfire, blurry but clearly showing casualties.

"Look! This is what he sent! He needs help!"

Anastasia glanced at the screen, a barely perceptible cold smile playing on her lips.

She leaned close to Leone, whispering in his ear: "Leone, darling, we both know Miss Elena is resentful because she didn't become your bride. Could she and her father be... conspiring to deceive you? After all, when would the Don of the Volkov family casually come to New York for a deal?"

Hearing her words, Leone became cautious and suspicious.

"Elena," Leone's voice turned completely cold, laced with mockery, "Anna is right. I can't just blindly trust you."

My heart sank to the depths. Desperate to save my father, I had neither the time nor energy to argue with them.

"Leone, I'm begging you," I abandoned all dignity, my knees buckling as I crashed onto the cold marble floor, looking up at him. "For old times' sake, when my father still served the Donovitch family, please save him. I swear I'm not lying to you. If you just send men, I'll do anything!"

Leone looked at me—the Principessa of the Volkov family who had always maintained a scrap of pride before him—now humbled on her knees.

A flicker of something almost like pain crossed his eyes.

But Anastasia didn't miss this moment of hesitation. She immediately pressed herself against Leone, swaying his arm like a petulant child: "Look how pitiful she is, Leone. Maybe... we should help her?"

Her tone shifted, a malicious glint in her eye. "But we can't just waste our valuable Soldatos for nothing, can we? If Miss Elena is willing to humble herself and be my maid for a day, obey my every command, pass our little test... then we'll send a team, hmm... ten Soldatos to check things out. What do you say?"

I knew Anastasia wouldn't let me off easily. This meant subjecting myself to her whims, trampling my last shred of dignity.

But I hesitated for less than a second. My father's life was worth ten thousand times more than my pride.

"I agree." I looked up, meeting Anastasia's triumphant gaze directly.

"I'll accept your conditions. Please, Leone, send men to this address now!" I sent Leone my father's last known location.

Leone snorted coldly. He waved dismissively, instructing a Capo beside him: "Do as Anna says. Send a team of ten Soldatos."

"Go now!" I insisted, a tiny flicker of hope igniting in my chest.

"What's the rush?" Anastasia said airily. "People need time to prepare. Now then, Elena, your duties begin. Come with me, my shoes need polishing."

The next several hours were the most agonizing of my life.

Anastasia went to every extreme to order and humiliate me.

She made me use my tongue to lick crumbs of food she'd dropped onto her gown clean.

She poured an entire glass of red wine over my unhealed wounds, such intense pain I nearly fainted.

She made me clean the ashes from the fireplace with my bare hands, leaving me covered in soot.

She made me kneel and use my handkerchief to wipe the mud from the soles of her shoes.

I clenched my teeth and endured everything.

I had only one thought: Hold on. Dad will be saved.

During this time, I checked my phone. There was no good news from my father. I was burning with anxiety but dared not show it, fearing Anastasia might make Leone call off the soldatos.

Finally, while she had me precariously balancing on a ladder to clean a massive crystal chandelier, I overheard two Soldatos carried large boxes downstairs.

"This batch of air-fresh flowers from Provence is damn delicate. Miss Anna insists we personally escort them from the airport—such a waste of good men," one complained.

"Tell me about it," the other agreed. "We were supposed to have a special op today, but the boss said it wasn't as priority as escorting Miss Anna's wedding flowers, so it got cancelled."

My mind went blank.

Cancelled? The op was cancelled?

I scrambled down the ladder as if mad, rushing to the Soldato and grabbing his collar: "What op? Was it the op to the abandoned docks in the west? Was it?!"

The Soldato, frightened by my appearance, stammered: "Y-yeah, I think so? A capo assignment. The capo said it wasn't worth wasting time on the Volkov family's bullshit, that Miss Anna's flowers were more important..."

Lies! All lies!

Leone had never sent anyone! Anastasia had never intended to save my father from the beginning! She was just using this as an excuse to torture and humiliate me!

And that team that could have saved my father was dispatched to protect her damn wedding flowers!

I turned ice-cold, my blood seemingly freezing solid.

With the last of my strength, I dialed my father's encrypted satellite phone.

No answer.

Once, twice, three times... only busy signals.

Finally, an encrypted message came through, from our family's Consigliere, David.

"Elena... we found the Don... he... he and the men we sent... all wiped out... the enemy was clean... we were too late..."

My phone slipped from my numb fingers, crashing to the ground, the screen shattering.

I still couldn't save my father.

Reborn, and I still couldn't change fate. The last person in this world who truly cared about me was gone.

I had stayed in this hellish Donovitch family, enduring all this, for my father.

Now he was gone. What did I have left to fear? What was there left to lose?

The last support in my life vanished. I collapsed onto the cold floor.

I don't know how much time passed before my encrypted account received an email.

Sender: Cobella Family Office.

Subject: Invitation to Follow-up Discussion Regarding Marriage Alliance.

The Cobella family. That European arms behemoth rumored to have an old, twisted Don whose previous wives had all disappeared.

Before, I had hesitated, weighed the options.

None of that mattered now.

I extended a finger, trembling yet strangely determined, and clicked open the email.

"...You are cordially invited to Naples, Italy, for a personal meeting with Don Cobella to discuss subsequent arrangements..."

I took a deep breath.

Then I pressed reply, typing my response in the simplest, clearest words.

"I accept the invitation. Will arrive in Naples as soon as possible."

Shortly after replying to the Cobella family's email, an encrypted communication request came through.

The caller identified themselves as the Cobella family's contact in New York, and their efficiency was amazing.

They had arranged everything.

I didn't say goodbye to anyone in the Donovitch family.

On the night of my departure, the darkness was thick.

Using my knowledge of the estate's blind spots, I avoided the patrolling Soldatos and quietly made my way to an abandoned old garage on the estate's edge.

There, an unmarked black car was waiting.

The driver was a man of few words. After confirming my identity, he simply said, "The Cobella family sends their regards," and drove me away from Donovitch territory.

Before leaving New York, I had the driver stop at a remote junkyard.

I carried a bag containing everything Leone had ever given me: all our photos together, old letters, jewelry he'd given me, even the scarf I'd knitted for his birthday that Anastasia later cut to shreds.

All the items holding memories of us.

I stood before the incinerator, expressionless as I threw each item into the roaring flames.

Watching them turn to ash. No nostalgia, no reluctance.

Then, without looking back, I got in the car and headed straight for the airport, taking a private plane arranged by the Cobella family to Naples, Italy.

The Donovitch estate was particularly lively today.

The wedding of Leone Donovitch and Anastasia was underway.

The estate was decorated with extreme luxury. Important figures from New York and major Mafia families across America had gathered, the air thick with the scent of power and money.

The men wore expensive custom-tailored suits, the women glittered with jewels. Conversations and laughter mixed with cigar smoke, filling the grand hall.

Leone stood at the center of it all, wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo with the impeccable smile befitting a future Don. Anastasia clung to his arm, wearing a custom wedding dress studded with countless gems, like a proud peacock accepting compliments and blessings from all directions. She was the absolute focus of the day.

Leone greeted the endless stream of guests, but his eyes occasionally swept across the room.

He saw many familiar faces—women who had participated in the roulette marriage candidates, representatives of families with close ties to the Donovitch family.

They were all there, showing their loyalty or reverence to him, to the future Don Donovitch.

But one person was missing.

No one from the Volkov family had come. Especially me.

A tiny ripple of disturbance went through him, like a stone thrown into a lake. The ripples disappeared quickly but they were there.

He had expected me to come, even if just out of courtesy, or... as Anastasia said, because I couldn't let go, wanting to witness his wedding with my own eyes?

He quickly pushed the thought aside, maintaining the perfect smile on his face.

Anastasia noticed his momentary distraction and followed his gaze, naturally noticing the absence of the Volkov family.

She sneered inwardly but clung to him tighter, her voice sweet as honey: "Don't look anymore, my love. Miss Elena probably... still can't let go. It's understandable she wouldn't want to come to our wedding. After all, she wanted to marry you so badly."

Her words contained just the right amount of sympathy and a hint of triumph.

Leone made a noncommittal sound, saying nothing more.

He summoned his closest aide, whispering instructions: "Find out why no one from the Volkov family is here. And find Elena Volkov. Bring her to the wedding immediately."

He needed to see me, to confirm if I was truly as devastated as Anastasia claimed, "unable to let go." Today's situation had filled him with an inexplicable unease.

The aide's expression grew grim.

He leaned close to Leone, whispering: "Young Master Donovitch, we can't reach anyone from the Volkov family. It seems... something major has happened to their family. Also, we've searched the entire estate and found no sign of Miss Elena. Some of the maids said they haven't seen her since yesterday."

"What happened? What kind of trouble?" Leone frowned. That inexplicable feeling rose again, this time not satisfaction, but a subtle unease.

Just then, a Soldato couldn't help but mutter to his companion while polishing a glass: "What other trouble could there be... I heard their Don, old Volkov, died a few days ago in that firefight at the west docks. Died pretty badly, their crew was almost wiped out... sigh, if only someone had backed them up then, maybe..."

Leone whipped around, his sharp gaze locking onto the talkative Soldato: "What did you just say? Say that again! What firefight? I thought that was fake! Why didn't I hear anything about this?"

The Soldato trembled so hard the glass almost slipped from his hands, stammering: "It... it was a few days ago... when Miss Elena came asking for backup... didn't we send a team to the west docks? But... but then the orders changed, Miss Anna said her wedding flowers were more important, and redirected our team to escort duty at the airport... that crew never made it to the docks..."

He remembered. I had knelt on the ground, begging humbly.

At that time... he had thought I was just playing games!

He had even allowed Anastasia's bullying and humiliation of me.

He grabbed his aide by the collar, his voice hoarse with shock and anger: "Is what he saying true?! Where the hell did that team go?!"

The aide, pale with fear, nodded with difficulty: "Y-yes, Young Master Donovitch. The orders... they were changed later, it was... it was Miss Anna's idea..."

"And what about the information about the ambush on the Volkov family Leone roared, drawing the attention of many guests, "Why didn't our informants report this?!"

The aide lowered his head even further: "We... we verified it... there was indeed a fierce firefight at the west docks that day, involving the Volkov family and some unknown forces... the report... it actually came in, but it was... suppressed... our people found that the traitor who sold the Volkovs' information... the trail leads to... to an intermediary Miss Anna often deals with..."

More pieces clicked into place.

Anastasia hadn't just redirected the rescue team—she might have sold the information beforehand! She wasn't just humiliating me; she wanted my father dead!

Leone felt the room spin.

Before his eyes flashed the desperate yet determined look in my eyes as I knelt on the ground, the bloody wounds on my back, the vacant expression when he threw away my mother's locket...

He had thought I was acting, putting on a show to gain sympathy and his attention!

Turns out... turns out everything I said was true!

And he, Leone Donovitch, hadn't just failed to save me—he had enabled Anastasia, believing her lies!

"Anastasia!" he turned sharply to the woman in the gorgeous wedding dress beside him, his eyes filled with unprecedented shock and rage, "Tell me! Did you change the orders for the Soldatos?! Did you sell information about the Volkov family?!"

Anastasia flinched, stepping back, the color draining from her face.

She tried to compose herself, tears instantly flooding her eyes: "Leone... my love... what... what are you talking about? Why can't I understand? Did Elena say these things to you? She's lying to you..."

"Shut up!" Leone cut her off harshly, his voice like it came from hell, "I'm asking you! Yes or no!"

His gaze was terrifying, as if he wanted to devour her whole.

Anastasia had never seen him like this. She knew she couldn't hide anymore. Her legs buckled, nearly collapsing to the floor. She managed to steady herself by gripping a nearby table, weeping as if her heart were breaking: "I... I only did it because I love you so much, Leone! I was afraid of losing you! Elena... she just wouldn't leave us alone, her father wanted to use her to tie you down... I just wanted... to teach her a lesson... I never thought it would come to this..."

Leone looked at her tear-streaked face and felt only disgust and hypocrisy.

Her selfishness and foolishness had destroyed an entire Mafia family.

He didn't look at her again. He roughly pushed through the crowd, striding out of the wedding hall under the shocked stares of all the guests.

The opulent wedding fell into an instant silence, leaving wedding guests standing frozen, her face as pale as paper.