For six years, I took bullets for him and erased every sharp edge of myself. Because of the way he protected me, outsiders all believed I was the woman closest to his heart.

However, when I asked for just one sincere “I love you”, he laughed and refused.

“Mafia marriages aren’t about feelings. Know your place.”

Then he said, “If Sophia doesn’t like it, don’t even bother.”

When the bomb countdown hit thirty seconds, my don husband shoved me aside without hesitation and ran out holding Sophia in his arms.

Only then did I understand that after six years of entanglement, I wasn't even worth a single hair of his sister.

I slammed the divorce papers into his face.

“I’m going to personally send you and your precious sister straight to hell!”

The nine hundred and ninety-ninth time I tried to get closer, I was still pushed away by his coldness.

This was my second year married into the Corleone family.

After hesitating for nearly half an hour, I finally called my brother, Marco Rossi.

My fingers clenched around my phone until they turned pale, and my voice was stretched tight with exhaustion.

“Marco, I want to end the marriage alliance.”

“I told you he’s a piece of ice you can’t melt!” Marco’s sharp voice came through the line. There was a faint sound of fingers tapping against a table, unable to hide his concern.

“You chased him from twenty to twenty-six, handled family affairs for him every day, and even took a bullet for him. He didn’t even say thank you. Was it worth it? Come back to Sicily. The family’s casinos and ports still need you. Isn’t that better than being wronged in Chicago?”

“I’ll finish handling things here,” I said softly. Then I hung up and stood.

As I passed the underground armory, the low murmurs from inside made me stop.

That voice belonged to Vincenzo Corleone. However, it was unusually soft.

I gently pushed the door open a crack and saw him standing beside a velvet chair. His black suit jacket rested on his arm, his white shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms. In his arms was a lifelike doll.

A doll identical to Sophia Corleone.

The almond eyes, the pink lips, even the beauty mark at the corner of her left eye were exactly the same. The skirt was embroidered with daisies—the same pattern I had helped Sophia choose last year.

His fingers brushed repeatedly over the doll’s eye. His voice was hoarse as he said, “Sophia, I still can’t quit you.”

This was the third time I had witnessed this scene.

By now, all that remained was numbness, my heart frozen solid.

I remembered our first meeting at Marco’s family birthday banquet. Vincenzo wore a black suit, and the Corleone gold badge was pinned at his collar.

While everyone else talked business, he sat alone, a glass of whiskey in front of him.

As he looked at me, his dark eyes were deep like the bottomless sea. My heart skipped a beat, and I insisted on clinging to him.

Later, when I took a bullet for him, and my back was bleeding, he only frowned and said, “You’re too easily hurt.”

When I deliberately sat on his lap in his office while handling arms accounts, he lifted me with one hand and set me aside.

Last Christmas, I wore his shirt and lay on his bed, only for him to send me a box of new shirts and coldly tell me not to steal his again.

Marco scolded me for having no self-respect.

In the fourth year, when I was finally disheartened, he said at the docks, “Let’s get married.”

There was no ring or confession. Still, I rushed forward and hugged him like I had grabbed hold of a lifeline.

Only now did I understand that it was merely so he could use the title of Mrs. Corleone to silence rumors about him and Sophia.

I had always been nothing more than a cover.

Inside the armory, Vincenzo bent down and kissed the doll’s neck. His voice was so light that it sounded like a sigh.

“Sophia, I love you.”

That sentence pierced my battered heart with pinpoint accuracy. Tears hit the floor as I turned and left, never looking back.

The next morning, Vincenzo had finished dressing and was preparing to go inspect the casino when I stepped forward and stopped him.

“Wait!”

“I’m very busy today.” He said coldly without looking up. “Don’t pester me.”

That sentence cut me like a dull knife, slowly shredding away my last bit of hope.

So, in his eyes, I had always been a nuisance who wouldn’t let go.

“You misunderstood. I have some errands to run today. Let me use your car.”

“What could you possibly need to take care of?” He still didn’t look up as he handed me the keys.

“Something that will make you happy.” I smiled faintly.

Leaving you forever.

I didn’t say that last sentence out loud.

Instead, I turned around and drove directly to the embassy.

The process of applying for permanent residency in Sicily wasn’t complicated, especially for someone with my family background.

Years ago, the Rossi family had already transferred all of its businesses back to Sicily. Only I remained here, staying behind for Vincenzo.

Now, I was leaving too.

“Ms. Rossi, the procedures will take about a week,” the staff member said with a polite smile.

I nodded, took the receipt, and walked out of the embassy.

It was finally coming to an end.

Vincenzo, the man I had chased for six full years, was never meant to belong to me.

I had given so much for him, even wearing down my naturally bold personality.

All of it was just to get a little closer to him. And in the end, I couldn’t even touch the most hidden desire in his heart.

I lowered my head and looked at the receipt in my hand, smiling lightly, though there was a faint ache in my chest.

“Forget it, Vincenzo. If you don’t like me, there are plenty of people who will.”

That night, I asked a group of close friends out to the underground casino, Purgatory.

The air inside Purgatory was always mixed with the smoked scent of cigars, the sharp clatter of chips colliding, and the low whispers of mafia men negotiating deals.

The dark-patterned mirror behind the bar was a disguise. Push it open, and it led straight to the family clinic through a hidden door. This was the heart of the Corleone family’s filth and corruption.

Ever since marrying Vincenzo, I hadn’t been to a place like this in a long time.

I wore a black, tight-fitting slip dress. The zipper at the back was pulled down to my waist, deliberately revealing the bullet scar below my shoulder blade.

There was a long-lost arrogance in my gaze.

With chips between my fingers, I paused for two seconds at the betting table. I skipped past the Corleone-controlled “Ace of Spades” area and slammed the chips onto the opposing table, “King of Hearts”.

“Five thousand dollars. King of Hearts wins!”

The surrounding area went quiet for a moment. Several men in black suits cast cold looks in my direction.

I lifted my gaze toward the private boxes on the second floor.

Vincenzo was leaning against a leather couch, idly rotating a whiskey glass between his fingers. His eyes landed on me through the haze of smoke.

His underboss, Michael, leaned closer and said with a teasing tone, “Don Corleone, looks like Ms. Rossi is teaming up with outsiders to bleed our territory.”

Vincenzo didn’t move. He simply drained the whiskey in his glass, the cold liquid sliding down his throat.

“She knows her limits. Bring her up.” His tone was flat, as if commenting on the weather.

As soon as those words fell, crisp footsteps echoed from the entrance.

Sophia walked in arm-in-arm with two men in floral shirts, low-level members of the rival Valentino family.

She toyed with a diamond-studded handgun, a “V” engraved on the grip. Anyone with eyes knew Vincenzo had given it to her.

“Vincenzo, I brought you some documents.” She waved the diamond gun casually.

Her gaze paused when it landed on me. Noticing that Vincenzo was staring at my exposed back, her expression darkened instantly.

Vincenzo strode over and grabbed Sophia’s wrist. His voice was terrifyingly cold. “Who let you come to a place like this? And who allowed you to associate with people like them?!”

Sophia froze for a moment, then her eyes reddened. “Why can’t I be here? And why can’t I give my contact information to others? Vincenzo, didn’t you stop caring about me? So what does anything I do have to do with you?”

Vincenzo’s fingers tightened, his knuckles turning white. His voice sank sharply. “Who said I don’t care about you?”

“You just don’t!” Sophia’s voice trembled with tears. “You avoid me every day. You don’t see me anymore. Vincenzo, you used to treat me so well. Why did everything suddenly change one day?”

Hearing this, Vincenzo’s Adam’s apple shifted slightly. His voice carried suppressed emotion.

“That’s because…”

After being escorted upstairs by Michael, I stood aside, feeling as if something had gripped my heart tightly.

She knew he couldn’t say it.

How could he?

Was he supposed to say that he, Vincenzo, liked her, and that’s why he avoided her? From the moment he saw her, he would completely lose control?

Perhaps he should say that because he loved her too much, he left his wife of two years untouched and instead custom-made a lifelike doll identical to her to ease his longing?

I let out a self-mocking smile and turned to leave, only to hear Sophia crying out behind me.

“Vincenzo, can we go back to how things were before? I want my brother back, whose eyes only ever saw me!”

Vincenzo’s voice was low and hoarse. “I’m married now. I can’t revolve around you alone anymore.”

“Then if she disappears, can we go back to how things were?”

Sophia suddenly looked up, a hint of madness in her eyes.

I had just lifted my bag to leave when I saw Sophia grab a wine bottle from the table and stride toward me.

“Bang!”

The bottle smashed down hard on my head. The sound of shattering glass exploded in my ears, and warm liquid streamed down from my temple.

“You don’t deserve the title of a Corleone woman!” she screamed. Her other hand pulled out a compact taser, the metal prongs gleaming coldly as she pressed it hard against my neck.

The current surged through my body instantly.

I convulsed and collapsed to the ground.

The blood from my forehead mixed with cold sweat soaked my dress. As my consciousness faded, I saw Sophia stepping on my hand, looking down at me with a smile.

“Ella, know your place. Don’t take what’s mine.”

In the chaos, someone rushed over. I thought they were trying to stop it, but then I heard Vincenzo’s voice.

He didn’t look at me lying in a pool of blood. Instead, he crouched down and pulled the trembling Sophia into his arms, his palm gently patting her back.

“Don’t be afraid. You weren’t scared, were you?”

Sophia buried her face in his chest and cried. “Vincenzo, was I too impulsive?”

“It’s fine. I know.” Vincenzo lifted his head and coldly ordered Michael. His gaze swept over me without the slightest warmth. “Drag Ella to the clinic. Don’t let her die.”

Michael came over to lift me. His rough hand grabbed my arm, and I could feel blood dripping down along my skin.

The lights in the private room were blinding. All I could hear was Sophia still crying, and Vincenzo’s voice, sharp as a blade quenched in ice, piercing the last part of my heart that hadn’t completely gone cold yet.

The white lights in the underground clinic were cold and harsh, forcing the smells of disinfectant and blood into every corner.

I lay on the black leather-covered examination bed.

Thick gauze was wrapped around my temple. The family’s private doctor had just finished removing the last stitch.

I needed thirty-two stitches, with not a single one done under anesthesia. The dull pain of the needle piercing flesh was still throbbing at my temples.

“Ms. Rossi, Don Corleone instructed that the bandages shouldn’t be removed for three days. Don’t let them get wet,” the doctor said.

His movements were light as he packed up his tools, but he deliberately knocked the tweezers heavily against the tray. “And you’d better stop provoking Miss Sophia. In this family, no one will offend the young lady for an outsider.”

The word “outsider” felt like a needle.

I didn’t respond and reached under the pillow to take out my phone.

The first notification on my social feed was Sophia’s post.

In the video, Vincenzo sat on a leather sofa in his study. White bandages were wrapped around his fingers as he carefully wiped the diamond-studded handgun. Sophia leaned against his shoulder, smiling at the camera.

The caption was a single line: [The Corleone Don, always protecting me.]

The comments were full of agreement from family members. Even an old council advisor left a comment praising the closeness between the don and the young lady.

I clenched my phone until my knuckles turned white.

The family rules clearly stated that intentional harm to family members must be judged by the council.

Sophia smashed a bottle over my head and stunned me with a taser, yet somehow it was reasoned as “closeness”.

I struggled out of bed. As soon as I reached the clinic door, two guards in black suits stopped me.

“Ms. Rossi, Don Corleone has ordered that you are not allowed to leave the clinic for now.”

“I want to convene a family meeting.” I raised my phone in front of them. “Sophia violated family rules. I want her to pay the price.”

The guard on the left sneered. “The family received Don Corleone’s instructions this morning. Corleone family matters aren’t for outsiders to comment on. You should behave yourself and not make things difficult for us.”

“Outsider?” I stared at the family badge on their chests and suddenly laughed. “I am Vincenzo’s lawful wife. How exactly am I an outsider?”

No one answered. The guards simply stepped forward half a step, blocking every path.

I didn’t know how long it had been before the clinic door was finally pushed open.

Vincenzo walked in wearing a dark gray custom suit. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and two buttons at his collar were undone.

There was a black velvet box in his hand, and he tossed it onto the bedside table in front of me.

“Sophia is young and lost control of her emotions,” he said flatly. “I’ve punished her with one week of confinement at the family villa. She won’t be allowed to participate in any territorial affairs.”

“One week?” I picked up the velvet box and opened it.

Inside was a set of blue diamond jewelry. The pendant on the necklace was as large as a pigeon egg, dazzling to the point of hurting my eyes.

“I needed thirty-two stitches and almost got electrocuted to death, and she only gets confined for one week?”

Vincenzo frowned, as if he felt I was being unreasonable. “Stop dwelling on this. I’ve already arranged for a private jeweler to customize another set of blue diamonds for you. Once you’re discharged, you can also visit antique jewelry shops in Monaco. Buy whatever you like. It’s all on me.”

When he said this, a trace of guilt flickered briefly in his eyes before being covered by indifference, as if jewelry could erase everything.

I slammed the box shut. My voice trembled as I said, “Vincenzo, do you think this is what I want? What I want is fairness under family rules, and you, as my husband—”

“Enough.” He cut me off, his tone turning cold. “I decide Corleone rules. Either accept the jewelry or stay in the clinic. Choose one.”

I didn’t speak again and stared at the blue diamond box on the bedside table.

Seeing that I didn’t argue, he turned and walked toward the door. “You’ll be discharged tomorrow. I’ll have the driver pick you up.”

The next morning, a black armored car stopped outside the clinic.

As soon as I got into the back seat, I froze.

Sophia was already there.

She wore a red dress, with a gold family honor badge pinned to her chest—the kind only core members involved in central affairs were allowed to wear.

“Ella, I’m sorry.” She glanced at the bandages on my temple, her tone perfunctory, as if reciting lines. “I shouldn’t have been impulsive. Don’t take it to heart.”

Before I could respond, Vincenzo’s voice suddenly came from the front seat, filtered through the partition.

“Sophia will move into the main villa and participate in the family’s jewelry smuggling operations. The two of you will work together.”

“Jewelry smuggling?” I turned sharply toward Sophia, who smiled, clearly pleased.

Sophia pulled out her phone and waved the screen. On it were contact details from a rival family.

“Vincenzo, people from the Valentino family contacted me again yesterday. They want to cooperate with me.”

Vincenzo’s voice hardened instantly. “Delete it.”

Sophia paused. “Vincenzo, they said they could help us—”

“I said delete it.” He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

His tone was filled with undeniable control. “Your connections can only be with the Corleone family. You are not allowed to have any contact with outsiders.”

Sophia reluctantly deleted the contact. Then, she turned toward me and raised her brows slightly, the provocation in her eyes impossible to hide.

He cared so much about the men around Sophia. Yet, for my injuries, he didn’t even offer a single sincere word of concern.