A few days later, it was Anthony’s 30th birthday banquet.

It was the grandest event of the year in Vicente. Capos, underbosses, consiglieri, made men, and associates from all sides arrived to pay their respects.

In previous years, the woman standing beside Anthony, receiving the congratulations of the crowd, had always been Mabel.

However, on that day, the one at his side was Cheryl, dressed in white, smiling softly.

She clung to Anthony's arm, her expression shy yet blissful, basking in the spotlight that had once belonged to Mabel.

The guests exchanged glances, an unspoken understanding passing between them as whispers spread.

"So the rumors are true. The Oliver family’s Donna has fallen out of favor."

"Tsk. Men are all the same. Once they’ve made it, who wouldn’t prefer someone young and spotless? Mabel’s hands are stained with too much blood. How could she compare to Ms. Reyes, who looks so gentle?"

…

Anthony seemed to enjoy Cheryl's dependence. From time to time, he leaned down to murmur in her ear, shielding her from excessive toasts.

Just as the atmosphere reached its peak, the grand doors of the hall were shoved open with force.

All eyes snapped toward the entrance.

Mabel walked in from the backlight.

She was not wearing an elaborate gown but a sleek black velvet dress. The high slit revealed long, straight legs. Her lips were a vivid crimson, her hair loose and flowing.

She wore no jewelry save for the obsidian ring on her ring finger.

Yet the authority unique to the Donna radiated unmistakably from her.

Her beauty was sharp, unrestrained, and aggressively dazzling—so striking that it was impossible to look away.

The contrast was immediate.

Cheryl's face went pale as she instinctively shrank into Anthony's arms.

He had not expected Mabel to appear. A flicker of surprise, followed by undisguised admiration, crossed his eyes.

Mabel walked straight up to them, casually picked up a glass of red wine, and looked at Cheryl with a faint, mocking smile.

"Ms. Reyes, you look beautiful tonight. Anyone who didn't know better might think you're the one marrying into the Oliver family."

The girl's eyes reddened. Her voice trembled.

"M…Mabel, you've misunderstood. Anthony was only worried I wouldn't adapt to an occasion like this…"

"Is that so?" Mabel let out a soft laugh, her tone laced with ridicule. "Zachary is still watching from above. And yet, you can't wait to hold his elder brother's arm, playing social games among power and prestige. That so-called devotion of yours… How cheap it looks."

"Enough!"

Anthony snapped sharply, stepping in front of Cheryl. His gaze darkened as it locked onto Mabel.

"Mabel, it's my birthday. Do you really have to make a scene in front of everyone?"

Mabel drained her wine in one go, then slammed the empty glass onto the table.

"Anthony, you’re the one doing something disgraceful. Since you're so eager to protect her, I'll give you exactly what you want tonight."

With that, she removed the obsidian ring from her finger and tossed it away.

The entire hall erupted in shock.

That ring symbolized the Donna’s status. How could she throw it away so casually?

Mabel turned and walked off without looking back.

"If you want it," she said coolly, "crawl over and pick it up yourself."

…

On the third-floor terrace, the night breeze was cool.

Mabel lit a cigarette.

She watched the smoke coil upward, blurring the lights and music of the garden below, and felt an oppressive heaviness in her chest.

Bastion Manor had already shut her out.

She was now an outsider.

Soft footsteps sounded behind her.

Without turning, Mabel said coldly, "Get lost."

"Mabel, why go this far?"

Cheryl's voice was light.

The timid fragility from earlier was gone. The tears on her face had dried long ago, replaced by a provocative smile.

"Anthony only has me in his heart. The more you make trouble, the further you push him away. He said you're too strong, and being around you exhausts him. What he needs is a place to rest, not a reminder of how bloody the past was. You're a comrade-in-arms to him, nothing more."

Mabel's fingers paused briefly around her cigarette. Then she let out a cold laugh.

"So you're finally done pretending?"

Cheryl stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"So what if I was pretending? As long as Anthony believes it, that's enough.

"Mabel, you're old. Your time is over. Zachary is dead. Those still alive have to move forward."

She smiled maliciously.

"Tell me, if Zachary knew his brother and his fiancée ended up together, would he crawl out of hell in rage?"

Smack.

Mabel slapped her hard across the face.

"You're not worthy of saying his name."

Cheryl's head snapped to the side. She covered her cheek, but instead of anger, a strange smile spread across her face.

"Why so angry? Come on, hit me again. The harder you hit, the more Anthony will feel sorry for me."

Suddenly, the girl grabbed Mabel's wrist, her eyes wild.

Mabel's gaze turned icy. Instinctively, her hand went to her waist.

It was a habit; she never went anywhere without a gun.

Now, the muzzle pressed squarely against Cheryl's forehead.

"Slapping is boring," Mabel said coldly. "I'll send you to your death instead. Seeing a corpse? Now, that will make him truly heartbroken."

Her voice dropped to absolute zero.

She meant it. She was genuinely prepared to kill.

Yet, Cheryl did not retreat in the slightest. Her smile only grew brighter, more twisted.

"Do it," she whispered. "Pull the trigger, Mabel. Let Anthony see how you kill the woman Zachary loved most."

As she spoke, she suddenly reached out and grabbed the finger Mabel had hooked on the trigger.

Mabel's pupils shrank. She did not have time to pull away.

Cheryl forced the gun downward, aiming it at her own shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The gunshot exploded across the terrace.

Cheryl screamed, then used the recoil to fling herself backward over the railing, plummeting toward the ground below.

"Argh! Help! Mabel! Don't kill me!"

The shrill scream tore through the night, drawing gasps from the guests below as they looked up.

Mabel stood at the railing, gun still in her hand, staring down at the instantly chaotic crowd.

She knew it.

This round: she had lost again.

All because she was not ruthless enough.

Cheryl did not die from the fall.

Of course, she would not. She valued her life far too much.

She had only dared to do it because she knew there was a swimming pool below.

By the time Anthony arrived, the scene was already in chaos.

Cheryl had been pulled from the water. The bloody wound in her shoulder was horrifying to look at. She was barely conscious, her lips trembling as she kept murmuring incoherently, "Don't kill me… Don't kill me…"

He lifted his head and looked upward.

His gaze collided with that of the expressionless woman standing above.

"Mabel!"

In Anthony's eyes, there was only a cruel, jealous woman who had fired a gun and tried to kill someone.

He handed Cheryl over to the doctors, then strode straight up to the terrace.

Using nearly all his strength, he grabbed Mabel by the shoulders. He looked as though he wanted to crush her.

"Have you lost your mind?! What did Cheryl ever do to you? How could you bring yourself to do this? You hate her that much? The moment I wasn't watching, you tried to kill her?!"

Mabel was shaken so hard her vision swam. The old injury in her shoulder flared up violently, pain forcing cold sweat down her back.

However, begging was never an option.

She only looked at Anthony coldly, standing on the edge of fury.

"I didn't fire the gun. She pulled the trigger herself and jumped. Do you believe that?"

It sounded like the biggest joke he had ever heard.

The disappointment and revulsion in his eyes swallowed her whole.

"What do you take me for? Cheryl can't even stand the sight of blood. She would never touch a gun! She's already hurt like this, and you're still lying, still framing her?!

"Just admit it! You're jealous and vicious. You couldn't tolerate her existence!"

Mabel had always believed that after all these years of standing shoulder to shoulder, he understood her better than anyone.

She never imagined that, in his eyes, she had become a heartless, scheming villain.

He did not even bother to uncover the truth.

He attacked her first, pressing forward step by step, as if he wished he could kill her himself to vent his rage.

At that moment, something inside her died completely.

She no longer wanted to explain. Exhaustion crept into her expression.

"Think whatever you want."

That indifference ignited Anthony completely.

He had still clung to a shred of reason, hoping she would explain herself and sincerely apologize to Cheryl. Even if it was just an act to placate him, it would have been enough.

However, she did not.

She continued to test his limits, relying on the contributions she had made to the family.

"Well done, Mabel," he said coldly. "Very well done."

He released her. There was no warmth left on his face.

"Since you're willing to use such despicable methods against Cheryl, then I have no choice but to deal with you according to the family's rules."

He turned toward the Soldati who had rushed over and gave the order without emotion.

"Take the Donna to the ice chamber."

The moment those words were spoken, the faces of everyone present changed.

That was the place where the Oliver family punished traitors.

Buried deep underground, it was an ice vault kept at dozens of degrees below freezing year-round. Solid ice sealed all four walls. No light. No sound. Only bone-piercing cold and endless darkness.

"Don! She'll die in there! She's still injured!" Her Consigliere, Henry, tried desperately to plead for her.

"Take her away."

Anthony's tone left no room for negotiation.

"When she admits her mistake and is willing to kneel and apologize to Cheryl, then she can come out."

There were no instruments of torture in the ice chamber.

Isolation and cold were punishment enough.

…

Mabel curled into a corner, her consciousness blurring as her body temperature dropped.

In her daze, she seemed to return to eight years ago.

That winter, while protecting Anthony, she had been hunted by enemies and trapped in an abandoned mine deep in the snow-covered mountains.

He had held her tightly, unfastened his coat, wrapped her in his arms, and used his own body heat to warm her stiff, freezing limbs.

"Mabel, don't fall asleep. Hold on.

"When we get out, I'll give you a home. You'll never be cold again."

…

She feared enclosed spaces without light, nightmares left behind from the years when she had been nothing more than property.

Anthony had once been the flame that guided her out of that darkness.

However, at that point, the one exploiting her weakness and pushing her into the abyss…was also him.

Home had become her prison.

Promises had turned into blades pointed at her heart.

Time lost all its meaning.

She did not know how long had passed when a small window in the iron door slid open, a beam of flashlight cutting through the darkness.

"Donna, the Don wants to know if you understand your mistake."

Mabel's lips were blue with cold. Her voice was so faint it was barely audible, yet unwavering.

"I…did…nothing…wrong.

"Cheryl…deserves…to die."

The window slammed shut.

The cold surged back in.

This time, hallucinations began to take hold.

She saw Zachary standing before her, his face smeared with blood, crying.

She saw Anthony holding a diamond ring, turning away from her to place it on Cheryl's finger.

She saw herself lying in a pool of blood, abandoned and unseen.

Her body temperature slipped away, bit by bit. Her heartbeat slowed.

Mabel knew she was reaching her limit.

When the Soldato came again to question her, panic finally broke through.

"Get help! Quickly! The Donna…she's not moving anymore!"

When Mabel woke up, only the family doctor was at her bedside, his expression grave as he spoke.

"Donna, this time, the cold penetrated deep into your bones and did some damage to your body. On top of that, your old injuries haven't healed yet. From now on, you must rest and avoid all emotional agitation. Absolutely no more shocks. Otherwise…"

He stopped himself, sighed, and quietly withdrew.

Henry remained standing at the foot of the bed, his expression conflicted—her Consigliere, as always.

"Where is he?" she asked.

Henry lowered his head, avoiding her eyes. "Ms. Reyes was badly injured. Her fever hasn't gone down, and she keeps calling Mr. Zachary's name. The Don… the Don is still with her."

As expected.

She had nearly died in the cold room, yet the true instigator was lying comfortably in a special-care ward, receiving her husband's tender attention.

Confronting it head-on, she could never defeat Anthony's guilt toward his dead brother.

If she continued fighting, all it would do was make Anthony see her as vicious and unbearable, sealing the label of a poisonous woman once and for all.

By then, Cheryl would only need to shed a few tears to grind her effortlessly into the dirt.

If she wanted to win, she needed a different way to live.

"You can go. I want to be alone."

Once the bedroom was completely empty, Mabel forced her weakened body out of bed. From a hidden compartment deep inside the wardrobe, she retrieved an old, specially modified phone.

It had lain dormant there for many years.

After entering a string of numbers she knew by heart, the call was answered almost instantly.

The man's voice was still the same: careless, teasing, and dangerous.

"Well, what a rare caller. What made you think of me all of a sudden, hm?"

"I lost our bet."

Sensing something off in her tone, he fell silent for a few seconds before his voice turned serious.

"I told you long ago that someone like Anthony has too much room in his heart. He can hold the world, he can hold his brothers… But he can never hold just you alone. You wouldn't listen. You insisted on smashing your head bloody on that dead-end road."

She coughed lightly. "So, I accept the loss. I'll give you what you want. In exchange, give me my freedom.

"I want to completely sever myself from the Oliver family, from the Don. Give me a clean, unburdened life."

"Deal," he replied, his tone brightening. "Then, what's my pledge?"

Mabel looked out the window. At Saint Laurent Manor, the roses were in full bloom: lush and vivid, the color of fresh blood.

"Next Wednesday. The border waters. The cruise ship Elysium. The Don will personally negotiate that one-billion deal."

After hanging up, she snapped the card in half and flushed it down the toilet.

Facing the mirror, she practiced a long-forgotten gentle smile.

…

In the days that followed, everyone noticed that Mabel had changed.

She traded sharp tailoring for soft cashmere dresses. The hands that once held weapons now practiced cooking. She even took the initiative to prepare nourishing broths for Cheryl in the kitchen.

When Anthony returned home exhausted, waiting for him were a drawn bath and a warm hangover remedy.

Mabel helped him remove his coat, her movements light and careful.

"You're not angry with me anymore?" he asked.

Anthony clasped her hand, surprise and emotion written all over his face.

Lowering her gaze to hide the chill in her eyes, Mabel spoke words she did not mean.

"I figured things out in the cold room. You're the Don, and I'm your Donna. We're one. Since Cheryl is your brother's widow, she's also my responsibility. I was too narrow-minded before, always arguing with a young girl. That was my fault."

"That's wonderful," Anthony said, pulling her into his arms. "I knew it. You understand me better than anyone. You always know what's right."

He rejoiced in her newfound 'reasonableness,' never noticing how stiff her body was in his embrace, how absent her affection.

To fully lower his guard, she even chose to swallow her anger when Cheryl provoked her.

At the dining table, Cheryl deliberately knocked over a bowl of soup, splashing Mabel.

"I'm sorry, Mabel. My injuries aren't healed yet, so…"

In the past, that would have irked Mabel to no end.

However, this time, she simply wiped herself with a napkin and smiled gently. "It's fine. As long as you're not burned."

Watching this, Anthony's guilt toward Mabel reached its peak.

The opportunity arrived that very evening.

Henry was reporting the upcoming schedule. "Next Wednesday, the arms negotiation with the Nordic side will take place in international waters."

Anthony nodded.

Mabel spoke casually, as if it were an afterthought. "I heard it'll be held on the Elysium. The panoramic stardome on the top deck is one of the best places in the world to see the aurora. It's a shame. A sit-down like that isn't suitable for bringing family along."

She spoke as if without any apparent intention.

However, someone was listening in.

Cheryl, who had been quietly eating, suddenly lit up.

"Zachary once promised to take me to see the aurora…"

Tears welled instantly as she spoke, her regret carefully performed.

"Anthony… May I go in his place?"

Anthony hesitated. "Cheryl, it's a business negotiation. It's dangerous."

"With you there, I won't be afraid of anything," she said, looking up at him with pure admiration. "And Mabel will be going too, right? I'll stay in my room and won't wander around. Nothing will happen. Please, Anthony."

Anthony looked at Mabel.

She smiled faintly and served him another bowl of soup.

"The Elysium has tight security, and it's hosted similar deals before. What could go wrong? If Cheryl wants to fulfill her wish, let her go. We'll be together at sea; it's safer that way."

She soothed Anthony's ego and appeared magnanimous all at once.

"Alright. We'll all go together," he said, gripping her hand warmly. "After the deal, we can take a proper vacation on a nearby island."

Mabel returned his grip, her smile soft but empty.

The trap of life and death was already set.

There would be no 'after' for them.

Anthony could spend the rest of his life guarding Cheryl.

Mabel would not be joining him.