Prying life-saving money from Isabella was harder than snatching a steak from a rabid dog.

"An emergency treatment requires a one-time payment of five hundred thousand dollars? Miss Caterina, you're not just making up an excuse for pocket money, are you?"

"Five hundred thousand is no small sum. Miss, could you provide a 'non-affiliated party' certificate from the Swiss clinic before I sign? For compliance reasons, I have to reject this for now."

I explained to her it was for an emergency surgery and that a detailed plan could only be made after my condition stabilized.

Isabella tapped the desk with her blood-red nails, feigning a sudden realization. "Oh, so that's how it is. I've been blessed with good health, so I'm not very familiar with medical matters."

"However, the family's financial compliance and anti-money laundering reviews are very strict. This could easily attract the FBI's attention. How about this, Miss, you provide a full paper trail for the legal source of all funds, and then I'll approve it for you?"

Then she narrowed her eyes. "Besides, for all we know, the clinic could have been bribed. I'm not doubting you, Miss. I just have a responsibility to protect the Don's reputation."

"Why don't you go find the family's lawyer and get a liability waiver?"

Just like that, Isabella stalled and stalled, until the critical window for my heart treatment slammed shut.

By the time the money finally came through, even the best private doctor in the family could only shake his head in regret.

In that moment, an endless hatred mixed with soul-tearing agony churned inside me.

I knew it was over.

A suffocating weight pressed down on me. It felt as if my heart gave one last, feeble flutter before the hope inside it died completely. This engagement was no longer a sacred promise, but a cage meant to imprison me.

Once I knew what I had to do, a strange sense of relief washed over me. The powerful aura of Vincenzo that had weighed on me for years abruptly vanished.

So, when I saw Isabella's provocative post on social media, I felt nothing.

The photo showed Vincenzo teaching her how to shoot at a private range, his chest pressed flush against her back. I calmly took a screenshot and then casually liked the post.

When Isabella was involved, Vincenzo’s reply was always instantaneous.

"Caterina, why are you randomly liking things? It was just training. Don't overthink it."

"You know you're the only one in my heart. Isabella is a capable subordinate; she's like a sister to me."

He immediately sent another message:

"Since you've already liked it, taking it back now will just make you look petty. Everyone in the family is watching."

"Be a good girl. Go leave a comment praising Isabella. This is your chance to show your grace as the future Donna and help me maintain my image. You've always been so understanding, haven't you?"

I wasn't going to bother.

But on second thought, I couldn't just swallow the bitterness.

So I did as Vincenzo said.

"Isabella is indeed the best 'sister.' She not only helps the Don with his work but shares his private life, too. Managing the family finances, taking care of my fiancé... she's so dedicated. What a heavy burden she must carry."

"Every dollar you save for the Don now will be your own when you take my place. Then you won't have to live like a beggar, the way I do."

After replying, I tossed my phone aside.

Then I began to calmly pack my things.

My phone buzzed violently on the table; it was Vincenzo. My cold reply must have finally tipped him off that something was wrong, because he began calling me repeatedly.

I answered, and his voice was tight with suppressed fury: "Caterina! What the hell are you talking about? Was your account hacked?"

"Baby, stop it. Delete the comment, and we'll talk this out..."

I hung up and threw the phone onto the sofa.

The world was finally quiet.

Packing didn't take long.

After all, in this luxury penthouse, every valuable item belonging to the future Donna was locked in a vault that required multiple verifications. For all these years, I had been an unwelcome guest, living in a house that was never mine. Even my scent was just a fleeting trace.

For the first time, I saw everything with perfect clarity.

Vincenzo returned quickly.

That was the speed of the Don. When he cared, the entire breadth of New York City was nothing more than a few heavy stomps on the accelerator.

But he didn't rush back because he was worried about me.

He came back because I had challenged his authority.

For a man with a pathological need for control, his fiancée ignoring his calls and posting sarcastic takedowns on social media was a public act of defiance.

He didn't even glance at the pitifully small suitcase at my feet.

He strode over, carrying the scent of Isabella's perfume.

"Caterina, baby," his thumb caressed my chin, the calloused pad grazing my skin. "Why didn't you answer my calls? You know I don't like to wait."

I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. "I wanted to be alone."

Vincenzo's hand hung in the air. He paused, then instinctively wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

"Still angry about that photo?"

"Caterina, you know Isabella is just my subordinate. She's an important member who has risked her life for the family. As the Don, it's my responsibility to train my people."

"The old guard already looks down on you for your background," he sighed, his warm breath brushing against my neck. "Don't be jealous over such trivial things. It comes across as insecure, hmm?"

Hearing this, my stomach churned, yet I couldn't help but want to laugh.

For years, this had been Vincenzo's method of control: handing me a sugar-coated blade, then watching me swallow it and expecting my gratitude.

"Insecure?" I took a step back, breaking free from his embrace. "It seems our Don is a very busy man. So busy he hasn't noticed his confidante parading all over New York as if she's already the Donna."

The smile on Vincenzo's face froze. "Caterina, when did you become so thin-skinned?"

"It's not easy for a woman like Isabella to make her mark in the family. You're the future mistress; you should be more considerate of her instead of listening to rumors. The last time you threw a fit at the meeting over the funds, Isabella cried all night, and she still defended you."

He looked at me with reproach, as if I were the ungrateful sinner.

"I provide you with the best life so you can live without a care in the world. If you keep targeting Isabella like this, I'll be very disappointed."

"Besides, your heart is fragile. Intense emotions aren't good for you."

"Caterina, listen to me. You don't need to think so much. Just follow Isabella's arrangements and focus on your recovery."

I finally couldn't help but laugh out loud.

But there was no joy in it.

In front of Vincenzo, I yanked open the zipper of the suitcase at my feet.

"Carefree? The best life?"

"Vincenzo, is this the love you give me?"

The suitcase lay open, completely empty. Inside were only a few T-shirts, faded from countless washes, with stretched-out collars—the old clothes I had brought with me when I first met him three years ago.

"I'm leaving, and I can't even find five decent things to wear."

"In this so-called 'gilded cage,' I have to fill out an application just to get a haircut. Buying a new lipstick depends on the mood of your precious confidante. The maids in this house take home more cash each month than I do!"

Vincenzo frowned. "Caterina, don't exaggerate..."

I ignored him, grabbing the sleeve of his expensive custom suit and dragging him to the closed vault door of the walk-in closet.

I pointed at the flashing red light on the electronic lock.

"Go on, my devoted Don. Show me how to open this lock."

"It needs a password, a fingerprint, and then remote authorization from our hardworking, selfless Isabella!"

"What kind of cherished woman has to live like a beggar, kneeling at the feet of her husband's confidante to beg for things!"

Vincenzo stared at the electronic lock, a look of pure bafflement on his face.

He turned his head, looking at me in disbelief. "This is what this is about?"

"Baby, you're raising hell, even threatening to leave, just because getting money is inconvenient? Or... are you just jealous of Isabella's power?"

Hearing those words, my heart went cold.

All my anger and grievances, in his eyes, were nothing more than a childish, materialistic woman throwing a tantrum.

I let go of his sleeve and took two steps back, my gaze vacant. "Forget it, Vincenzo. It doesn't matter what you think anymore."

"Let's end our engagement."