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."