The nights in Vicente were a coexistence of order and gunfire.

Tonight was the wedding, ten years overdue, between Anthony Oliver, the don of the Oliver mafia family, and Mabel Samson, the woman who had stood beside him through bloodshed, betrayals, and underworld wars.

A top-tier luxury hotel had been cleared by the family's soldati. Below them glittered a sea of city lights; above them bloomed fireworks commissioned for the future Donna alone.

The man known for his ruthlessness knelt on one knee with a rare diamond ring, his eyes filled with rare tenderness.

"Mabel," he said, "you walked through hell at my side. Let me give you peace for the rest of your life."

It seemed that all the sacrifices and patience had finally led somewhere.

However, just as Mabel's fingers were about to touch the ring, a piercing scream came from above.

"Don't! Anthony! Save me!"

That single cry drew all of Anthony's attention away.

The girl was not unfamiliar to Mabel.

Two years earlier, Anthony's twin brother had been tortured to death by a rival mafia family while covering his retreat. His body was never recovered.

And Cheryl Reyes was the fiancée he had protected with his life.

Mabel watched as the man she loved abandoned everything without hesitation and ran toward another woman.

She stepped forward and tried to stop him.

"Don't go. The wedding isn't over."

However, when their eyes met, the Don accused her coldly of being heartless and selfish.

And in that moment, Mabel felt tired.

Perhaps it was time, just once, to choose herself over the Family.

The diamond ring, worth a fortune, fell to the floor and was kicked away by Anthony Oliver's hurried steps, skidding out of sight.

Before Mabel Samson could react, her vision darkened as the man slammed into her shoulder.

She wore ten-centimeter heels. Caught off guard, she lost her balance and fell hard. Her palm pressed into the thorns of a rose arrangement, blood spilling instantly.

Mabel had stayed by Anthony's side for ten years.

She had followed him from the days when he was a hunted, destitute illegitimate son to the man who now ruled the city's underworld as the Don of the Oliver family.

She had taken bullets for him and drunk herself into gastric bleeding for him. In the gun battle that cemented the Oliver family's standing, she had driven him out while he lay critically injured and unconscious, carving a path through gunfire to escape.

That was life-and-death loyalty etched into bone and blood.

Everyone said she was the Don's untouchable weakness.

Yet now, he crushed her dignity and abandoned her at their wedding, all to rush Cheryl Reyes to the hospital.

The guests' stunned stares and hushed whispers shattered her last illusion. Her throat felt stuffed with cold, wet cotton, suffocating her.

The pain in her palm was nothing compared to the chill spreading through her chest.

…

Late at night, Bastion Manor.

When Mabel returned to the main residence, she did not expect to see Cheryl in the master bedroom.

The girl was asleep, tear tracks still at the corners of her eyes as she nestled in Anthony's arms, clutching his shirt tightly.

Hearing movement, he looked up and made a quiet hush gesture. After tucking the blanket around her, he walked lightly toward Mabel.

On the terrace, the moonlight was cold.

"How did you get hurt?"

Her hand was wrapped in gauze. When he noticed, the familiar concern returned to his face.

Mabel pressed her lips together and looked at him with a faint smile.

"I fell at the banquet. You were busy saving someone else. You did not see it."

Anthony sighed and rubbed his brow.

"I know I wronged you tonight. But you saw the situation. Cheryl had a severe stress reaction. If she had jumped, how would I face Zachary in death?

"Tonight was only a make-up ceremony. A ring can be replaced. A wedding can be redone. But Cheryl has only one life.

"You've been with me ten years. You understand my guilt toward Zachary. Don't make things hard for her, alright?"

Mabel suddenly felt short of breath.

She stepped away from his touch. The sweet perfume on him made her frown, but she suppressed the nausea.

"I wasn't making things hard for her. It just feels too coincidental."

Anthony paused. "What do you mean?"

"Back then, even you and I did not know Zachary's safe house location. So how did the attackers find it so precisely?

"And every time things between us improve, she just happens to fall ill or run into danger."

She met his gaze calmly.

"Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. But again and again? What does that become?

"Have you never wondered whether her illness is truly from trauma… or if she fears that without it, you'll forget Zachary and stop caring for her?"

Anthony's expression darkened, though he held back his anger.

"You're exhausted. That's why you're thinking this way.

"Cheryl is Zachary's fiancée. He died protecting her. Doubting her is doubting Zachary's judgment.

"The psychologist said people with post-traumatic stress are sensitive. She lacks security, so she depends on the family."

His tone softened.

"I bought the island you liked. Tomorrow it goes under your name. When Cheryl stabilizes, we'll redo the wedding. I swear before God, nothing will go wrong."

As he spoke, his eyes kept drifting toward the master bedroom, worry evident.

The pain in Mabel's palm spread into her chest.

He was not listening. He only wanted to bury her grievances with money.

"No need."

She stepped back.

Anthony frowned. "You're still angry?"

"I already own three islands. I don't need yours. And a wedding without sincerity is just a performance, even if held ten times.

"So I don't want compensation."

She pointed toward the bedroom.

"For her, you left me standing alone at our wedding.

"Anthony, ask yourself. Are you truly just protecting your brother's fiancée? Or has your guilt twisted your judgment as the Don?"

Embarrassment and anger flashed across his face.

"She's Zachary's fiancée! I am his elder brother and the Don of this family. Protecting her is my responsibility! Stop thinking so filthily!"

Mabel folded her arms.

"Then let me give you one last warning."

Her smile vanished. Killing intent surfaced.

"Control your brother's fiancée. Tell her to hide those disgraceful thoughts.

"What happened today, I'll overlook for Zachary's sake. But if there's a next time…"

She looped an arm around his neck, lips near his ear, voice soft yet chilling.

"I wouldn't mind honoring her devotion… and sending her to reunite with Zachary sooner."

After the argument, the rain did not let up.

Mabel was staring at the curtain of rain, lost in thought, when her Consigliere, Henry Lester, hurried in.

"Donna, we've just received word. The Don has sent her to Saint Laurent Manor."

The hand holding her wine glass tightened abruptly.

That place?

Saint Laurent Manor: the residence Anthony had spent three years building, specially commissioning a designer to create it for her.

"And…as soon as she moved in, she smashed up the dressing room in your master bedroom.

"She said your custom crimson gown looked like blood. It frightened her…and might disturb Mr. Zachary's spirit."

Henry was still choosing his words when Mabel lifted her eyes.

"So?"

"She cut the dress to pieces," he said, unable to look at her. "Laid it in the dog kennel. She said only dogs could drive away evil spirits."

Was that really about not disturbing the late Zachary's spirit?

That was nothing more than grinding her face into the ground, a blatant declaration of dominance.

"Prepare the car."

"But the Don specifically instructed—"

She shot him a cold glance.

"I said, to Saint Laurent Manor."

…

Mabel's car smashed straight through the manor's front gate, screeching to a halt in front of the main house under the stunned gaze of the Soldati.

"Donna! You can't—"

"Move."

She pushed the doors open and walked straight in, her black coat whipping violently in the rain.

The fireplace was blazing. Cheryl, wrapped in Anthony's oversized shirt, was curled up on the sofa. At her feet lay a prized hunting dog.

Beneath the dog was a heap of shredded crimson velvet.

The gown was a masterpiece hand-stitched by one of Italy's finest tailors. Now it was matted with dog hair and stains.

When she saw Mabel storm in, radiating killing intent, the girl jolted in fright.

The Rottweiler lunged forward to protect its owner, barking wildly, fangs bared.

Mabel's eyes hardened.

A silver butterfly knife slid into her palm.

The dog howled and fled, tail tucked tight.

"Blood! It's bleeding!"

Cheryl screamed, clutching her head, but Mabel caught her wrist before she could spiral into another episode.

She grabbed a pair of scissors from the table and pressed the blades against the girl's temple.

"I hear you love Zachary so much you'd do anything for him. Cutting up my gown for a kennel isn't enough?"

Her voice was calm, almost amused.

"Why don't I shave your hair and make another cushion out of it?"

"No! Help! Anthony! Save me!"

Anthony was not coming.

She had checked before arriving. At this hour, he was negotiating a weapons deal worth hundreds of millions.

Just as she was about to cut the first lock of hair, someone attacked her from behind.

A close-quarters disarm technique.

She had no time to react. Her shoulder dislocated with a sharp jolt. The scissors flew from her hand and embedded in the wall.

She was shoved into a display cabinet and crashed onto shattered glass.

Anthony stood there in a bathrobe.

His hair was damp, posture still in striking form.

The same hands that had once held her had just dislocated her arm without hesitation.

"Anthony! I was terrified!"

Cheryl rushed into his arms, sobbing.

When his gaze landed on Mabel's blood-stained figure, he paused.

He stepped forward.

"I didn't mean it. You were out of control."

"Don't touch me."

Mabel twisted away and forced herself up through the glass shards.

"When you taught me that move five years ago," she said coldly, "you said it was for enemies.

"So tell me, Anthony—am I your enemy now?"

Anthony fell silent before softening his tone.

"If you really hurt Cheryl, Zachary wouldn't forgive you. The family elders would use it against you.

"It's just a gown.

"She has trauma. Red reminds her of his death. If you want more, I'll bring the Milan tailor. Ten gowns. A hundred. Why draw a blade over this?"

Mabel only felt tired.

To him, she was making trouble over nothing.

When she refused to yield, his patience thinned.

A Don's authority did not welcome defiance.

"Everyone in Vicente knows you're the Oliver family's Donna. She just needs protection. Why can't you be generous? Must you disgrace the family before outsiders?"

"Anthony…please don't blame Mabel…"

"This is my fault… I deserve to die… Zachary's here… I can't breathe…"

Her voice faded.

"Cheryl! Breathe!"

He lifted her in his arms.

He noticed the blood near Mabel but still walked out.

"Mabel, you disappoint me.

"Stay at the manor and reflect. When you've learned, I'll come for you."

…

She sat alone in the wreckage.

After a long silence, she reset her arm with brute force.

Pain shot through her, but she swallowed it.

Gasping, she whispered, "Anthony. Consider this arm repayment for your teachings.

"And I'll show you what true defiance looks like."

Night had already fallen when Anthony returned to Saint Laurent Manor.

When he pushed the door open, he saw Mabel sitting on the sofa. The lights were off. Moonlight spilled in through the windows, stretching her silhouette into something lonely and cold.

Seeing her like this, his heart softened despite himself. The agitation from earlier ebbed away.

He crouched in front of her, lowering his voice. "Does your arm still hurt? I'm sorry. I didn't control my strength. Let me apply the medicine for you."

Mabel said nothing, only turning away from his touch.

Anthony sighed and took out the gift he had prepared.

"The emerald jewelry set you liked at the last auction.

"I know you're still upset about Cheryl, but we're family. Don’t let an outsider come between us."

She finally reacted, but instead of looking at the jewelry, she reached beneath the cushion and pulled out a stack of documents.

"I don't need an apology. Just sign these."

On top was a Withdrawal Agreement from the Oliver family. Beneath it lay the divorce papers.

"Mabel, are you out of your mind?"

Anthony sprang to his feet and slammed the papers onto the coffee table. Pages scattered everywhere, sliding across the floor.

"You want a divorce? Over something this trivial? You want to leave the Family? Do you even understand what you're saying?!"

Unlike his fury, Mabel simply watched him rage in silence. Then, slowly, she curved her lips into a faint smile.

"Anthony, in your eyes, my dignity, my sacrifices, and even my life are all trivial.

"Only Cheryl's emotions matter.

"Honestly, I'm tired. If you believe she's so fragile she needs your constant protection, then I'll make space for her. As for the Donna position, whoever wants it can take it."

"You're just throwing a tantrum!" Anthony laughed in anger, pacing back and forth as he struggled to contain himself.

"When did you turn into such a dull housewife, obsessed with catching mistresses all day long?

"Cheryl is Zachary's fiancée! Zachary died saving me! Taking care of her is only right! You insist on using morality to tie my hands, forcing me to choose between duty and you… Don't you think that's cruel?"

"Cruel?" Her voice was steady, unflinching. "Or is it shameless?"

She was not afraid of confrontation, nor did she want to retreat into silence.

"You call that taking care of her? What haven't you done personally? If one day she wants a child, will you take responsibility for getting her pregnant, too?

"Do you dare to swear in front of Zachary's grave that you don't harbor a single selfish thought toward Cheryl?"

"Enough!"

Anthony cut her off violently, veins bulging at his temples.

"You're blinded by jealousy! The more you talk, the more absurd you sound! Since you can't speak rationally, take a few days to cool off before we talk again!"

He stepped on the scattered papers and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

…

Late at night.

The pain in her right arm kept Mabel awake.

She went to look for painkillers. As she passed the study, voices drifted through the crack in the door.

"Don, please don’t be angry. The Donna is only reacting so strongly because she cares about you too much. That’s why she’s hostile toward Ms. Reyes."

It was Henry, speaking cautiously—her Consigliere, always careful with his words.

"Cares about me?" Anthony's voice was heavy with exhaustion and irritation. Even through the door, Mabel could picture him rubbing his brow impatiently.

"That's caring for me? That's endless control.

"She's spoiled by my indulgence.

"She thinks that just because she's fought beside me for ten years, shed blood, and taken injuries, she's earned eternal credit. That I should yield to her in everything.

"But has she ever thought that if it weren't for me, she might already have been kidnapped, humiliated, and trampled by countless people?"

Henry hesitated. "But…she has been with you through life and death for ten years…"

"Whose sacrifice hasn't been ten years?" Anthony shot back without hesitation. "Have I ever treated her poorly?"

Unable to stop herself, Mabel leaned closer to the door, wanting to hear more, wanting to hear his true thoughts.

"The killing intent around Mabel is too heavy. Being with her, I'm always on edge. She's an excellent partner when things were bloody, but in life, she lacks the softness a woman should have. She's always too hard, too sharp.

"But Cheryl is different. She's pure and simple, like a blank sheet of paper. I have to take Zachary's place and protect her."

…

Mabel did not listen any further.

She stood in the shadows, her body going cold, each of his words stabbing straight through her organs, leaving her unable to breathe.

So the ten years she had spent fighting and the scars she had borne from shielding him with her body had become proof that she was not a normal woman.

He found her tainted.

Too hard. Not gentle enough. A butcher stained with blood.

When the situation was unstable, he praised her as his right hand, the one who stood beside him to restore the Family’s glory.

Now that he sat at the top, he claimed only with Cheryl could he forget the violence and enjoy the peace of an ordinary life.

Mabel lowered her gaze, staring at the wound in her palm that had not yet healed, and let out a self-mocking laugh.

She did not push the door open to confront him. She did not cry or make a scene.

She simply wiped away her tears and turned back toward the bedroom.

He was so certain she would not leave? That everything she did was for a tantrum?

Anthony was gravely mistaken.

In her world, there was no such thing as holding on.

Anything that did not belong to her, she would discard without hesitation.