Three years ago, Capo Marco Rossi received an order from the Godfather. He was to leave and expand the Family territory.

Before he left, he issued me a command the way someone would fasten a collar onto a pet. "Until I return, you will remain at the Godfather's estate. Remember your identity. Keep your legs closed."

He gripped my chin, his voice carrying that kind of condescending gentleness that felt almost like charity. "When I come back, I'll give you a proper status."

For my younger brother's medical expenses, I had no choice but to obey.

Three years later, he returned with the wealth he seized from the West Coast Gambino Family, and there was a woman by his side.

In front of the rose bushes at the Godfather's estate, he looked down at me from above, as if inspecting a dust-covered old possession.

"Mia Moretti is carrying my child. I must take responsibility as a father. You've always been sensible. Endure this for now. Continue being my mistress."

I lowered my head, my hand lightly stroking my still-flat abdomen.

"Is that so?" I raised my head, a provocative smile on my face. "I have no objection. If the Godfather says it's acceptable, then it's acceptable."

Marco Rossi's face darkened. He clearly had not expected that reaction from me.

Beneath his white dress shirt, the heavy muscles across his chest and shoulders tightened instantly.

"Lucia Romano, do you think you're worthy of invoking the Godfather?"

He reached out, trying to seize my chin and force me to look up at him.

I turned sideways and avoided him.

His hand froze midair. The shock in his eyes quickly hardened into anger, his predatory gaze sliding across my lips and down my neck.

"You filthy little puppet. You need to learn what respect means. Don't forget who broke that body of yours in."

Mia Moretti immediately wrapped herself around his arm, pressing her entire body against him. "Baby, don't be angry. Lucia definitely didn't mean it. She's just upset. She's jealous I'm carrying your child, so she dragged the Godfather into it."

Her voice was sweet and syrupy, but every word carried a sharp, poisonous barb.

Marco chuckled softly, clearly pleased with Mia's tact. He pulled her into his arms, his palm sliding down the curve of her waist before grabbing her ass without restraint.

Mia's cheeks flushed, but her body only pressed closer in submission, and yet Marco's eyes never once left me.

"You're unhappy? You think I didn't care about you these three years? A man out there risks getting shot. Some things aren't within my control.

"This time when I came back, the Godfather personally promised to put the docks under my management. I want you to obey my orders and continue being my mistress."

I shook my head and said, word by word, "I'm already pregnant. I carry the Godfather's bloodline."

The air froze instantly.

Marco's face turned a violent shade of red. The hand gripping Mia's backside tightened suddenly. She let out a muffled cry of pain but did not dare struggle.

"What did you say?" The words squeezed out between Marco's teeth. His eyes locked onto my flat stomach, as if fire might erupt from them at any moment.

The next second, his thick hand wrapped around my throat.

"You've always been a rude little tramp. But at the very least, you shouldn't throw filth onto the Godfather."

His fingers began to tighten slowly. I couldn't breathe.

"The Godfather went to Mexico to negotiate an arms deal, and you dare spin a lie like this? I need to teach you again what respect means." He sneered, looking at me sideways.

I struggled desperately. "Let… go…"

Just as I was about to suffocate, a hand suddenly clamped down around Marco's wrist.

It was Lorenzo DeAngelis, the Godfather's Consigliere. He was the family's chief legal counsel and most important subordinate.

Lorenzo looked at Marco calmly, his voice cool as he said, "Three years away and you return looking to cause trouble?"

Marco released me awkwardly.

Lorenzo glanced at his watch and gave Marco a small nod. "I'm heading to the next block to meet with a Jewish associate about business. Show Lucia some respect. Eight o'clock tonight. Come see me."

With that, Lorenzo left in a hurry.

I rubbed my neck and glared fiercely at Marco.

Before I could speak, a loud slap exploded across my face.

Marco stared at me, the flames in his eyes threatening to burn me alive. "What did you do to make the Consigliere step in for you?"

My cheek burned, but I didn't answer. I only looked at him coldly. "I will report everything exactly as it happened to the Godfather. Marco, you will pay for that slap and for what you just did."

Marco breathed heavily and straightened his tie in a twisted, almost sick way. "Lucia, get your damn head straight. The Godfather's mercy isn't meant for a tramp. Stick with me. Stop lying. Don't get clever. I can give you a life among the elite."

When he finished, Mia walked over and took my hand as if we were close friends. "Lucia, just listen to Marco. Men having a few women outside is normal."

She pushed her belly forward slightly, her smile dripping with smug triumph. "I don't mind. The two of us can take care of Marco together."

I shook her hand off. "If the Godfather says it's acceptable, then it's acceptable," I looked at Marco and repeated the words slowly.

Then I added the rest, "And I no longer need your filthy money."

"What did you say?" Marco's face twisted completely.

Like a beast out of control, he roared, "Take this filth away! Take her!"

The two soldati behind him immediately stepped forward, one on each side, grabbing my arms.

I was shoved violently into a black Chevrolet. The door slammed shut with a heavy bang. The engine roared to life, and the car shot forward like a bullet.

The interior of the car was cramped, the air so heavy it was hard to breathe.

I was forced against one side. Marco and Mia sat opposite me.

Marco had his arm wrapped around Mia, his gaze roaming over me without restraint. He seemed to enjoy the fact that I could not fight back right now.

Mia deliberately stroked her slightly rounded belly, her voice syrupy. "Marco, our child will be someone important. Above everyone else."

As she spoke, her eyes shifted toward me in open provocation. "Not like certain people, who'll always be gutter trash from the slums."

The words "slums" pierced my ears like a needle.

My thoughts were dragged back three years.

In a cold corridor in the hospital, I was kneeling on the floor, clutching a medical bill so astronomical it didn't look real.

My brother, Matteo Romano, lay in the ICU, his life hanging by a thread. Despair rose like a tidal wave and swallowed me whole.

That was when Marco appeared. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his hair slicked flat and gleaming, his face clean-shaven. He looked down at me from above as I knelt there in disgrace.

He handed me a check. The amount written on it was enough to save Matteo's life.

"I'll give you the money. But you have to become my most obedient woman."

From that day on, I became his property.

What I wore. What I ate. Where I lived. Who I spoke to. Even the expressions I was allowed to show — all of it was controlled by him.

"Remember, Lucia, besides me, no one would ever want to bed a tramp like you. Your only value is pleasing me. Keeping me happy. Don't use that brain of yours that's full of mush. Follow my orders. That's enough."

For three years, those words echoed in my ears like a curse.

I obeyed and was compliant, not because I loved him but only because I needed that money. I needed Matteo alive.

I treated myself like merchandise that was clearly priced as part of a fair exchange.

The car jolted violently, dragging me out of the painful memory.

The car stopped in front of a private villa in the suburbs. There were high iron gates and heavy security.

It was Marco's territory.

I was a trapped animal in a sealed jar.

I kept my composure and warned him sharply, "Marco, this is an open challenge to the Godfather's authority. If you dare hurt the child in my womb or me, the Godfather will never let you go."

Marco sneered and grabbed my chin. "You think I'd believe a tramp? The only thing you could seduce is a passing truck driver. Next time, come up with a better lie."

A trace of coldness flickered in my eyes. I shook off his hand and faced his anger directly. "If you send me back now, I won't pursue this. Otherwise, think carefully about the consequences."

This was the first time I had openly defied Marco. He narrowed his long eyes slightly, tilting his head as he looked at me with indifference.

Smack!

He raised his hand again and slapped me across the face. Then he gave a short command to the men beside him.

"Lock her in the basement. Without my orders, no one goes in."

At his command, I was dragged toward the basement entrance. The heavy iron door was pulled open with a shrill metallic scrape.

I wrenched myself free and pulled something from inside my coat. It was the ring the Godfather had given me.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Marco! Open your eyes and look carefully! I order you to send me back immediately!"

I clutched the ring tightly between my fingers. It was not gold or silver. It was black iron.

Cold and heavy, the face of the ring had been smoothed by time, but the Family crest was still clearly visible. It did not represent wealth. It represented power.

Marco froze for a moment, then let out a scornful laugh. Without even looking, he casually knocked the ring from my hand. "Just like you. A cheap fake that doesn't belong on any stage."

Right after that, he spat in my face. "Take this filth downstairs!"

The basement was cold and damp. I was shoved onto the carpet.

Marco walked in, Mia following behind him. He poured himself a glass of yellow liqueur and sat down on the sofa in the center of the room. His legs crossed, like a judge passing sentence, he looked at me with cold indifference.

Mia stood before me, one hand on her belly, looking down at me from above. "Lucia, you really are a cheap tool. Marco doesn't even want you anymore, and you're still out here lying and trying to fool people."

Her face was filled with the smug pride and contempt of a victor. "The Godfather's child? Why not just say you're pregnant with God's son?"

Marco did nothing to stop her. He seemed to enjoy watching Mia humiliate me.

I pushed myself up from the carpet and looked at him calmly. "Marco, I'll say this again. I'm carrying the Godfather's child. If you stop now, it's not too late. Otherwise, you won't be able to bear the consequences."

My composure angered him again. "Stubborn thing!"

Marco pulled a box from the drawer of the coffee table and threw it hard in front of me. It was a box of pregnancy tests.

"Test." He pointed at me, his eyes vicious. "Right now. Here. In front of Mia and me. Prove it to me."

I picked up one of the tests and started toward the bathroom.

A hand grabbed my arm roughly.

Marco sneered and yanked me back. "The bathroom? What are you planning to do in there? Do it here."

He leaned close to my ear, devoid of warmth. Every word felt like an ice spike. "Take off your pants. In front of us. Spread your legs and piss on it. That's what honesty looks like."

The humiliation was naked and raw, more unbearable than any beating before.

I looked at the pregnancy test on the floor and did not move. My voice was light, but clear.

"No."

The muscles in Marco's face twitched. He slowly stood and pulled a black handgun from the back of his waistband.

Click.

The sound of the safety coming off echoed sharply in the quiet room. The cold muzzle pressed hard against my temple. The sharp smell of gunpowder filled my nose.

"Woman, you're wearing out what little patience I have left." His voice was low and heavy with threat. "Test."

In despair, I closed my eyes. Slowly, I picked up the pregnancy test from the floor. I turned my back to them and unfastened my pants.

Behind me were two cold, scrutinizing stares.

I did what he demanded. Then I lifted the pregnancy test in front of them.

Two clear red lines, like twin blades, stabbing straight into their eyes.

The color drained instantly from Marco's face. He rushed at me and seized my throat, slamming me against the wall.

The suffocating pressure came at once. His eyes were bloodshot, savage.

"I was fighting those Gambino dogs on the West Coast, and you let someone into your bed? Tell me! Whose spawn is it?" he roared, tightening his grip.

Struggling for breath, I forced out a few words. "Rosato… Vincenzo…"

Rosato Vincenzo. The Godfather's name.

He released me. I collapsed to the floor, coughing violently.

"Nothing but lies. I'm out of patience." Marco looked at me, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

He turned coldly to his men. "Go get the doctor."

Then he looked at Mia, a twisted amusement in his tone. "Baby, want to see it with your own eyes?" He paused, a brutal smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "How that spawn gets dug out of her belly?"

A flicker of fear crossed Mia's face, but it was quickly replaced by excitement and malice. "Of course I do, Marco."

Abortion.

The word exploded in my mind like thunder. I understood that pleading and explanations were useless.

Marco had gone mad. He was really going to kill my child.