My husband, Don Vincent Corleone, has gotten ambushed during a trade-off. When he wakes up, he still remembers everyone… but me.

Soon, Vincent makes an announcement in front of everyone that Angela Mancini is his actual Donna. That's how Angela takes over my position as the precision machinist in the family.

When I'm in the machinery storage room, I accidentally overhear Vincent and Angela flirting with each other.

"Since you've lent me the identity as the Donna for a week, does this mean I get to do whatever I want with your body during this period?" Angela asks.

"Of course! The only reason why I've pretended to have contracted amnesia is so that I can appease you, after all."

As I hide in the shadows, I feel my nails digging into my palms. Still, I don't expose Vincent's lie on the spot.

At the family meeting the next day, Vincent forcibly snatches away the obsidian ring that I've been wearing. He yells at me that Angela is his actual Donna, and that I should submit all of my blueprints to the family before leaving Neplas once and for all.

All the subordinates stare at me, waiting for me to fight back.

Without moving an inch, I submit my resignation on the spot and file for a divorce.

What Vincent doesn't know is that I'm the only one who knows the assembly technology of the latest batch of firearms. There are only seven days left till the Corleone family has to hand the batch over to the client.

Seven days later, the batch starts showing issues, which implicates the Corleone family and putting them in a dire state. But that's when I've completely vanished from Neplas.

When Vincent and I meet each other again, he grabs me by the arm angrily while questioning me, "Where the hell have you gone to, Valenna? Why did you ditch me back then?"

I pretend to look confused. "Who are you? Do I even know you?"

"Before you even think about walking out that door, you're going to wipe every last byte of R&D data for this batch of firearms," Angela Mancini sneered, stepping into my path to block the exit. "That belongs to the Corleone famiglia. You didn't seriously think you were walking out with our crown jewels, did you?"

After seven years of heading up firearms development for the Corleones, I knew damn well there was no rule about wiping data before leaving. She was just throwing her weight around as the Donna, messing with me for the hell of it.

Vincent Corleone, who had been standing by her side, pointed at the encrypted drive in my hand and gave his command. "Drop it. That's the Corleone famiglia's secret. You don't get to take it with you."

If that data were wiped, seven years of my life's work would go up in smoke.

Vincent knew that the data meant everything to me. By teaming up with Angela to back me into a corner, he was betting that I wouldn't have the heart to just walk away.

Perhaps I should have seen this coming. Seven years of marriage, and I hadn't given the Corleone famiglia an heir.

Instead, I spent my nights alone under the lab's fluorescent lights, pouring everything I had into the firearms development that secured his throne in the arms trade.

In the absence of a child, the business had become my baby—something I would have died to protect.

At last week's sit-down, he tried to fast-track Angela's promotion to Head of High-Explosive Munitions R&D.

Every Capo in the room nodded along, eager to stay in Vincent's good graces.

I was the only one who had actually gone through Angela's performance evaluation. Right in front of everyone, I stamped "REJECTED" on the approval documents.

Vincent knew better than anyone that I would never let a fool like Angela get her hands on the core of our firearms development. That was why he was pulling this pathetic amnesia act to squeeze me out of my position.

When the Capos saw the standoff, they stepped in, trying to play peacemaker.

"Donna Valenna, please… Don Corleone isn't himself. You're his wife. You need to show him some grace while he's unwell."

The words seemed to embolden Vincent, and he pulled Angela into a tight embrace.

"My Donna is my life," he declared. "If anyone so much as touches a hair on her head, I'll wipe their entire bloodline off the map!"

The Capos chuckled and rushed to hold me back, trying to talk me down. "See? Don Corleone still cares about you. He just has you confused with someone else because of the amnesia."

Their "knowing" looks felt like a slap across my face. They thought they had it all figured out, but I was the only one who saw how pathetic the whole charade really was.

Over seven years of marriage, Vincent and I had maintained a veneer of domestic peace. But whenever disputes arose within the famiglia, he always pressured me to back down, hiding behind the same tired excuse—"for the good of the Corleones."

I used to buy into that bullshit. I had thought that making sacrifices for the Corleones was just part of the deal.

It was only when I saw him grind me into the dirt just to elevate Angela that I finally had my wake-up call.

If he had truly cared about me, his gun would have been leveled at whoever caused my grief, without ever stopping to calculate whether it was worth the cost.

When I didn't react, Angela snatched the whiskey bottle off the desk and hurled it at me. Glass shards sprayed across the floor.

"Who the hell do you think you are? I am and always will be the only woman in Vincent's life. You're nothing but a man-stealing bitch. Get the hell out of the Corleone famiglia!"

She jabbed a finger at me, screaming as if I were some unforgivable homewrecker.

Vincent didn't lift a finger to stop her. Instead, he swirled his own drink, watching the scene with an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Numb with despair, I plugged the encrypted drive into the computer, ready to wipe it clean.

The Capos stood frozen, too stunned to even breathe.

Vincent hadn't expected me to actually go through with it. His hand shot out, clamping down on mine over the mouse before I could click.

"That won't be necessary," he said, his tone shifting. "The Corleones remember your contributions. But now, take your things and leave."

At his words, the Capos finally breathed a sigh of relief.

But Angela, standing right beside him, couldn't resist stirring the pot again.

"Amore! I'm your woman, the Donna of the Corleone famiglia! Does my word carry no weight here at all?"

I expected Vincent to indulge her whims like he always did, but for once, his expression hardened.

When he turned to me, the coldness in his eyes softened a fraction. He gestured for a Soldato to place a black leather briefcase, packed with gold bars, in front of me.

"Valenna, even though you're being relieved of your position as precision machinist, the Corleones won't shortchange you on compensation. Take the gold and stay at the estate for seven days. After that, you'll have your answers."

He actually thought that I was still in the dark—that once his little scheme with Angela had run its course after seven days, he could hide behind the illness excuse and come begging for my forgiveness.

But what he didn't realize was that the shipment of high-explosive munitions I had been overseeing had a hard deadline of exactly seven days.

That deal with the partner from Sicovenza hinged entirely on those crates. One day late, and the breach-of-contract penalties alone would be enough to cripple half the Corleone famiglia.

In the past, I might have swallowed my pride for the sake of the Corleones.

But now? I was done with him and the Corleones.

A stray lock of hair fell across my forehead, and Vincent's hand twitched upward instinctively. It was an old reflex from when he used to tuck my hair behind my ear.

But then he remembered the role he was supposed to be playing and jerked his hand back as if he had touched a live wire.

I unclasped the talisman he had handmade for me years ago and tossed it into the briefcase.

As the lid snapped shut with a heavy thud, I looked him dead in the eye, my voice perfectly level.

"Vincent, let's get a divorce."

"A divorce?" Vincent echoed.

His voice dropped an octave, his fingers tapping twice against the desk. "Valenna, that isn't the kind of joke we make within the Corleone famiglia. You should know your place better than that."

I watched him put on his little performance in silence. Not a single ripple of emotion stirred within me anymore.

I decided to play along.

"I was the one who pushed Signor Ferrante to witness our union all those years ago. Now, let's just end it here."

Angela was practically glowing with delight as she listened to our back-and-forth. "She's right. This is long overdue. Let's go see Signor Ferrante right now."

She nudged Vincent's arm, eager to see our ties severed once and for all.

Vincent hesitated for a brief moment, his tone giving nothing away. "I have famiglia business to attend to. We'll discuss this in seven days."

I studied him, puzzled that he wasn't biting. He had already chosen Angela over me, so why wasn't he jumping at the chance to give her what she wanted?

If this were the old me, I would have demanded an explanation.

But now? I couldn't care less.

I decided to push Angela's buttons just so I could leave faster.

"If Vincent isn't willing to cut me loose," I mused aloud, "does that mean he loves me more?"

That hit the mark. Angela's jealousy flared instantly.

Her eyes welled up with practiced tears as she clutched Vincent's hand, her voice melting into a whine. "Amore, I'm your woman. Don't you want to make my place in the Corleone famiglia official?"

Vincent saw the stalemate dragging on. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice turning cold. "Fine."

…

When we reached the Elder Council, Vincent stopped in his tracks.

His gaze drifted to the garden of dark roses outside, and something flickered in his eyes, as if a buried memory had surfaced.

"This place… it feels familiar," he murmured. "I remember now. It was during the Grand Gala. This is where the priest stood when he witnessed our union."

He knew how much the Grand Gala had meant to me. Back then, I had truly believed it was the beginning of our happily ever after.

So he thought that by invoking that memory, I would go soft—that I would cling to the sentiment and wouldn't be able to bring myself to leave him.

Just like I always had before.

Little did he know, I had already uncovered the truth through the encrypted messages he had been exchanging with Angela.

In one message, he had written, "Sincerity? Choosing the Grand Gala was nothing more than a matter of convenience. Piggybacking on an existing event saved me the trouble of decorating another venue."

Another read: "Her expertise in mechanical engineering helps solidify the Corleone famiglia's power. This marriage was a business move from the very start. Delaying it until the Grand Gala was just a way to dress up a cold transaction in the robes of famiglia authority."

As I took in his cold, callous words, a chill settled over my heart, inch by inch.

I thought I had found true love. It turned out I was nothing more than a bargaining chip.

No wonder he had tightened his grip on the territory and the business once the Corleone famiglia expanded. It turned out he had been guarding against me, the "outsider", all along.

My thoughts were interrupted when Vincent clapped me on the shoulder, asking if he had gotten it right.

I couldn't be bothered with his act, so I just shook my head. "Your memory must be failing. You really aren't well, are you?"

Vincent's smile froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to say that. His face flushed a deep, angry red.

A dark look flashed in his eyes. He pulled a black gemstone ring from his suit pocket and shoved it onto Angela's finger, the gesture leaving no room for argument.

"You're right. Angela is my only fiancee. I'll be submitting the formal engagement papers to the Council shortly!"

Shoulders squared, he tucked Angela's arm into his and strode inside with measured composure.

I wasn't the least bit angry. I simply followed them in.

As soon as we submitted the divorce application to the Corleone elder, Tommaso Ferrante, we were led into the council chamber.

Vincent pulled Angela into his arms, took a swig of whiskey from a glass on the table, then tilted her chin up and fed the liquid into her mouth with a kiss.

The gesture was equal parts dominance and provocation.

He expected me to be jealous, but I couldn't have cared less. To me, the whole display was just laughable.

Back then, he wouldn't even stand close to me in front of the famiglia, claiming that such displays were beneath a man of his rank.

But now, his behavior was so brazen that even Tommaso couldn't bear to watch.

My indifference infuriated him. Seething, he barked at Tommaso to hurry up and finalize the divorce.

Once the divorce papers were in my hands, I let out a long breath of relief.

Seven years of marriage, seven years shackled to the Corleone famiglia—finally fell away.

…

I hailed a black sedan and headed straight to the munitions R&D facility to collect my belongings.

Angela clutched Vincent's arm and followed me like a hawk, her voice shrill as she snapped, "You're not the precision machinist anymore! Even the title of Donna belongs to me now. You're not welcome here! Pack up your junk and get as far away from here as you can!"

Vincent swept a cold gaze over me, his tone dripping with disdain. "Angela is the Corleone famiglia's top precision machinist now. From this moment on, you're not fit to set foot in this lab."

He hurled those words like daggers, waiting for me to crack under the weight of his authority.

In the past, I might have snapped, screamed, and made a scene.

But now, I didn't bother. I simply replied, "Fine. I'm leaving."

I unzipped my bag and began packing my things.

These instruments were a legacy from my mentor. They had been with me for years, and I wasn't about to leave them behind.

Everything had slipped beyond Vincent's control, and he was starting to unravel. To regain his grip, he pulled a miniature detonator cufflink from his sleeve and furrowed his brow, as if a flicker of memory had just surfaced.

"Valenna, you designed this cufflink specifically for my protection. Don't you remember?"

I was busy wrapping glassware. Without even looking up, I gave a dismissive reply. "It's just mass-produced junk. Anyone could wear it."

That pushed him over the edge. Vincent hurled the cufflink against the floor.

"Get out!" he roared. "Don't you ever come back!"

I zipped my bag shut, grabbed my instruments, and walked out without a backward glance.

After I left, Vincent's expression darkened.

Angela sensed the tension and hurried to offer a feigned apology. "Don Corleone, I just wanted a little taste of what it's like to be the Donna. I never expected Valenna to blow things up like this. This is all my fault. Maybe I should go talk to her and clear things up?"

Vincent's lips trembled with barely contained rage, but he forced himself to pat Angela's shoulder reassuringly.

"It's not your fault," he hissed. "Valenna can't read the room. She's being petty with a man who's still ill. Forget about her. Just enjoy being my Donna. She can't survive without me. One word from me, and she'll come crawling back."

I walked out of the famiglia headquarters, carrying my gear.

This time, I was leaving for good. And I was never coming back.

After the fallout with Vincent, my heart felt unexpectedly light.

Even after I left, Romeo Moretti, one of my former research subordinates, kept pinging me through encrypted channels.

That day must have been an emergency, because he bypassed the channels entirely and called my private line.

"Donna Valenna! No—Signora Sanna, you have to come back! The custom firearms, Dark Gold Rose, are due for delivery tomorrow!"

I was about to cut the line when I heard a commotion on the other end. Someone had snatched the communicator away.

Then Angela's voice came crashing through, practically a roar. "Valenna, you've been struck from the Corleones' rolls! Don't even think about setting foot on this compound again!"

Romeo's voice came back, tight with barely contained fury. "Signora Mancini, stop making things worse! If this shipment goes south, the entire Corleone famiglia will go down with it!"

Angela couldn't have cared less. Her tone dripped with contempt. "What's the panic? I've already finished the R&D on these pieces. They'll be ready for delivery in no time."

Romeo's reply was laced with disbelief. "What? It took Signora Sanna seven months to develop the Dark Gold Rose, and you're telling me you pulled it off in seven days? You can't be serious! We're taking this straight to Don Corleone!"

Angela let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Don Corleone is unwell. If any of you dare run your mouths in front of him, you'll be risking your worthless lives!"

With that, the line went dead.

I could already guess how this would play out. With Angela's temperament and her authority as Donna, no one would dare go over her head.

I sighed and pushed it out of my mind.

Without the constant grind of R&D and managing the famiglia, life suddenly felt effortless and sweet. Spending my days doing things I actually enjoyed made the future feel bright again.

…

On the seventh day after leaving Vincent, I slipped into an evening gown to attend the wedding of my best friend, Sofia Greco.

Our famiglie had been allies for years, and we had grown up side by side.

Sofia stepped out of the car first. I followed behind, carrying her bridal bouquet.

I had barely taken two steps when a familiar voice boomed from the speakers of a neighboring hall.

"Thank you all for joining Angela and me at our engagement celebration."

I looked up and saw Vincent in the adjacent hall, arm in arm with Angela. On her left hand, the black gemstone ring that used to be mine glinted.

Angela spotted me first. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a deliberate kiss onto Vincent's lips.

Vincent beamed, about to pull her into his arms, when his gaze drifted and landed on me.

His hands dropped away from her instantly. His eyes rimmed with a sudden flush of red.

Angela's guard shot up at once. She assumed I was there to sabotage their engagement.

She hurried over to me, putting on a grand show of pleading. "Valenna, Vincent and I are truly in love. It took so much for us to finally be together. Please, don't try to tear us apart, okay?"

Vincent caught sight of her tearful eyes and moved to step forward, but then his gaze fell on the bouquet in my hands.

"Valenna, you're already meeting someone else behind my back? Who is he?"

He had jumped to the wrong conclusion, but I couldn't be bothered to correct him. I replied flatly, "Vincent, we're done. Stop harassing me."

My words seemed to cut deep. His dark blue eyes reddened again.

He threw himself back into the act, feigning a sudden rush of memories. "Valenna, it's coming back to me. You held a bouquet just like that the day we got engaged. Are you trying to relive what we had?"

Watching his clumsy performance made my stomach turn.

"Drop the act, Vincent. I saw through your amnesia charade a long time ago."

My words caused his pupils to contract sharply. He stumbled back two steps before the shock even registered.

He knew the lie had been exposed, so he stopped pretending altogether.

"The Corleone famiglia has no use for someone who defies orders," he scoffed. "Compared to you, Angela knows how to fall in line. She's been running the famiglia just fine—far more useful than you ever were."

I couldn't help but sneer. "If she's doing such a wonderful job, then surely you know that today is the delivery deadline for Dark Gold Rose, the custom firearms for the partner from Sicovenza?"

Vincent's brows furrowed. It was clear that he was completely in the dark. He whipped his head toward Angela, only to find her looking smug.

"Of course I know. There was no need to trouble Don Corleone with such a minor detail. I've already handled everything."

Then she turned her barbs on me. "It's a shame some people are just slow. It took you seven months to develop the Dark Gold Rose, and I finished it in just seven days. I guess some people have it, and others… well, they just don't. Right, Valenna?"

Vincent nodded, looking satisfied. He was about to speak when rapid, frantic footsteps suddenly echoed from the edge of the crowd.

A moment later, one of his Soldati came stumbling in, nearly tripping over himself in his haste.

His face was deathly pale as he gasped out, "Don Corleone! The firearms… They were delivered… but the buyer…"

Angela stood there, her grin smug as she waited for her praise, the arrogance practically spilling from her eyes as the report began.

Vincent, brimming with confidence, waved a hand to silence the Soldato's stammering. He turned to me, his eyes full of contempt.

"It seems the deal went through, and our partner is eager for more. If you know what's good for you, Valenna, you'll bow your head to Angela now. It's the only way you'll keep a shred of dignity."

Only then did he raise his hand for the Soldato to continue.

The Soldato pulled out a blood-stained parchment, his voice breaking into a sob.

"Don Corleone! It's a disaster! Every single barrel of the Dark Gold Rose blew during testing! The blast set off the buyer's entire armory. Three of their Made Men are dead! Their Don has issued an ultimatum. We either hand over the entire western territory as compensation, or they will massacre every last one of us tonight!"