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.

The Elysium was a floating palace at sea. It was luxurious beyond excess.

The negotiations went unusually smoothly, so smoothly that even Anthony found it unexpected. The notoriously difficult Nordic arms dealer was uncharacteristically agreeable this time. After signing the contract early, he headed downstairs to the casino for entertainment.

Late into the night, disaster struck without warning.

An explosion erupted from the lower deck. The massive vessel shuddered violently.

"It's an attack! Protect the Don!"

Henry roared as he charged forward, but it was already too late.

Masked men in black tactical gear swarmed aboard from all sides of the ship. Highly trained and heavily armed, they tore through the outer defenses in seconds, ripping straight through the perimeter soldati.

The man at the front pulled off his mask, revealing a face carved with scars.

"Poison Scorpion?!"

It was the enemy Anthony had battled for years.

Two years ago, that very man had brutally killed Zachary.

"Don Anthony Oliver," Poison Scorpion said, sneering as he rested his rifle on his shoulder. "Long time no see. To reel in a prize like you, I didn't hold back."

In the chaos, Mabel and Cheryl were separated by the crowd.

When Anthony finally fought his way out and reached the top deck, the sight before him made his blood boil.

The two women were tied to separate support pillars.

Explosives were strapped around both of their waists.

Red numbers blinked wildly on the timers.

Three minutes remaining.

"Come on," Poison Scorpion said, twirling a remote control in his hand. "Pick one.

"Back then, you hunted me for three straight months over territory. My men died by the dozens. Today, I'll let you taste what it feels like to lose the one you love.

"One is the Donna who bled and fought for you. The other is the one you've sworn to protect.

"I'm not unreasonable. I'll only kill one.

"Whoever you choose to save, I'll stop their detonator. The other one, though…"

He smiled viciously. "Boom. Off to meet God."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Anthony's eyes burned red as he raised his gun.

"You can try me," Poison Scorpion replied calmly, his finger hovering over the button. "Let's see whether your bullet or my hand is quicker."

Cheryl was already terrified beyond reason, sobbing and thrashing against her restraints.

"I don't want to die… I'm so scared… If Zachary were alive, he would save me…"

Mabel, by contrast, showed little reaction.

She only stared quietly at the dark sea beyond the deck.

"Two minutes left," Poison Scorpion said. "Choose now, or they both explode."

Anthony was trapped.

His younger brother had died for him. The only thing Zachary left behind was Cheryl; he had to protect her.

However…

What about Mabel?

Years ago, to clear obstacles for him, Mabel had deliberately learned explosives and bomb disposal. She was an expert.

Cheryl knew nothing. If no one saved her, she would die for certain.

A desperate, despicable thought took root in his mind…and instantly won.

"One minute!"

"Anthony! You promised you'd protect me. You said Zachary wouldn't die for nothing!"

"I choose Cheryl!" Anthony shouted.

Mabel finally turned her head to look at him.

Everything had gone exactly as she expected.

There was no need for hysterical accusations. No need for tears.

So what if she had fought and bled for him?

She was still discarded.

"You really didn't disappoint me."

She laughed softly, her voice scattered by the sea wind.

"Mabel, you know how to defuse bombs! You can do it yourself, right? You'll be fine! I'll save her and then come back for you!"

Defusing a bomb required freedom of movement.

She was bound hand and foot.

Yet, he expected her to save herself.

It was almost laughable.

Poison Scorpion burst into wild laughter. "Hahaha! What a heartless Don! For the sake of his brother's woman, even his Donna is expendable!"

Keeping his word, he quickly cut Cheryl's restraints and shoved her toward Anthony.

Then, he kicked Mabel hard in the back, sending her, explosives and all, flying into the depths of the ship.

"You've made your choice. Now she dies."

"No!"

Flames exploded upward. Heat and debris roared through the air, instantly swallowing the direction where Mabel vanished.

Half the ship's interior collapsed under the blast.

Fire lit up the night sky and reflected in Anthony's eyes, burning them red with despair.