That evening, Julian returned in triumph with Camilla.

But when he pushed open the doors to the banquet hall, he froze.

The champagne hadn't been decanted, the seating was a mess, the newly appointed acting Consigliere was in a panic, and they had even forgotten to adjust the lighting above the main table.

Julian stood at the entrance, his brow furrowed in a deep line.

However, the party's atmosphere forced him to maintain his facade as the Don.

I sat in a corner of the hall, squeezed at a table with ordinary Soldatos, and watched the farce unfold with cold detachment.

The lights converged on the main table.

Camilla, in a custom-made white gown, stood beside Julian like a proud peacock. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow, considering I was his rightful fiancée.

Camilla, of course, spotted me. She picked up her champagne glass and glided onto the stage.

"Marina, there you are," she said, her voice amplified by the microphone. "On the way to the negotiations with the Russians yesterday, a rival crew ambushed us. Don Julian was exhausted from protecting me."

"I recall that dealing with these external threats is the Consigliere's responsibility. How could you let your guard down? What if the Don had been hurt because of your incompetence?"

Murmurs rippled through the family members, their gazes turning on me, sharp and accusing.

Julian looked over as well. His gaze was glacial, laced with displeasure.

I set down my champagne glass and rose to my feet without haste.

"Miss Rossi, I must correct you. The necklace around your neck is a symbol of honor, but also of responsibility. Since Don Julian has bestowed this honor upon you, you should understand how to share his burdens."

"But you were only concerned with reveling in the glory. At a critical moment, not only did you fail to assist Don Julian, you made him protect you. That is your dereliction of duty."

"Or perhaps you should ask yourself why, while wearing the family's most sacred symbol, you couldn't even handle a handful of common thugs?"

My words struck a chord. The family members’ gazes shifted, now scrutinizing Camilla.

"No, that's not it. I just—" Camilla panicked, her lips trembling, unable to form a coherent excuse.

She seemed to have never expected that the ever-tolerant me would become so sharp-tongued.

The murmurs grew louder. Some members even began to question whether bestowing the necklace had been a wise decision.

Stammering, her desperation mounting, Camilla burst into tears, wailing about how I had humiliated her.

A celebration held in her honor had turned into a joke.

"That's enough, Marina!" Julian interjected, his face dark as he came to her rescue. "You are my Consigliere. Protecting me is your duty. Now, apologize to Camilla for ruining this party."

A bitter, angry laugh escaped my lips.

Julian had deliberately taken Camilla to the docks for a walk-through, creating the illusion that she had contributed to the family, all to justify her wearing the necklace.

Their encounter with the thugs was a pure accident, and now he was twisting it into my failure?

I lifted my chin and looked Julian straight in the eye. "I did nothing wrong. She started this. If anyone should apologize, it's her!"

It was the first time I had ever publicly defied Julian, and it shattered his authority in front of everyone.

He stared at me, fury churning in his eyes. "I'll say it again. Apologize to her!"

"No!"

As we stood in a standoff, Julian raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face.

The entire hall fell into a dead silence. Even Julian himself seemed stunned by his own action.

My face quickly swelled, turning a fiery red. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth but remained defiant.

"I will not apologize!"

"Fine." Julian suppressed his rage, pacing back and forth with a hand on his forehead. "Someone, take her away and lock her up. She can come out when she’s ready to see reason."

The party ended on a sour note.

Julian returned very late, still carrying the cloyingly sweet scent of Camilla's favorite perfume.

Seeing me curled up on the sofa, my face tear-stained, a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked, squatting down and reaching out to touch my cheek. "I was just—"

"Don't touch me!" I slapped his hand away. "You should be with Camilla."

My rejection rekindled his anger.

"What the hell are you throwing a fit about?" He stood up, looking down at me, his tone filled with undisguised annoyance. "Camilla was just concerned about the family. Was it necessary to make such a scene?"

I looked up at the man I had loved for ten years. Even now, he still believed I was the one in the wrong.

"Julian, you call that concern? Slandering me in front of everyone is concern?"

Julian's eyes flickered for a moment before he changed the subject.

"That's still no reason for you to ruin the party."

He walked to the window and lit a cigar, his emotions gradually calming.

"In the end, isn't this all about the necklace? After the official engagement next month, the entire family will be yours. Is it necessary to fuss over such a small thing?"

He always used the position of Donna to hold me hostage, to force me to be the "more generous" one.

I said nothing. There was no point in continuing the conversation.

Thinking I had recognized my mistake, he softened his tone. "Alright, I was wrong tonight, too. I shouldn't have hit you. Consider that slap as my apology for what Camilla did. We're even."

I stared at him, reeling from his twisted logic.

I was framed, the perpetrator shed a few tears, and I was the one who got slapped.

And now he was telling me this made us even?

What kind of twisted, mobster logic was that?

I closed my eyes, calmed my breathing, and fought to suppress the urge to scream.

It was time to throw those documents in his face.

"Julian Argento," I said, my voice dangerously calm as I casually tossed the "Asset Division and Relationship Termination Agreement" onto the table in front of him.

"I am now formally informing you that I no longer want to be the Consigliere, nor do I have any interest in the position of Donna. Since you care so much about Camilla, let her take my place at the engagement ceremony next month."

"How many times do I have to say it?" Julian was thoroughly enraged. He didn't even glance at the agreement, rushing over and grabbing my shoulders.

"I only see Camilla as a sister! The kindness I show her is only because of the debt I owe her father! And you want me to marry her? Are you insane?"

Fury burned in his eyes. "Do you have any idea what giving up the position of Donna means? Are you really going to joke about something like this just to get my attention?"

"Do you really only see her as a sister?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Just then, a figure appeared in the doorway.

Camilla stumbled in, her face etched with panic.

"Julian, it's a disaster! The Russians are opening fire at the docks!"

Julian's expression instantly tightened. He let go of me and threw out one last cold sentence.

"Stay home and reflect on your actions. I'll deal with you when I get back."

With that, he rushed out the door.

I calmly picked up the agreement he had ignored. Then, I looked around the room and murmured to myself, "Home? When have I ever had a home?"

Julian was right about one thing. I did need to reflect—reflect on how I had been so blind for the past ten years.

The next morning, I left the family estate and returned to my childhood home in Queens.

As soon as I walked in, my father, Frank Bishop, came forward, rubbing his hands together. His face, swollen from years of alcoholism, was plastered with a sycophantic smile.

"Marina, how did it go? Did Julian agree to give you the Donna position? I heard the Donna gets an extra allowance every month, and also—"

"No," I cut him off flatly, shattering his fantasy. "And there's no money. I've broken off the engagement with Julian, and I'll probably be moving back in."

The air froze for a second.

The smile on my father's face stiffened, then twisted into an ugly, terrifying snarl.

A loud, heavy slap landed on my face.

"You useless thing!" my father erupted, pointing his finger at my nose. "Your brother lost a fortune gambling, the whole family is counting on you, and you dare to break off the engagement? I'll beat you to death!"

"What a waste," my stepmother, Brenda, chimed in, arms crossed. "Can't even hold on to a man, and now you want to come back and freeload? The nerve!"

My father grew more agitated as he spoke. He grabbed a glass ashtray from the table and hurled it at me with all his might.

I didn't dodge. The ashtray hit my temple, and blood streamed down from my forehead, tinting my vision red.

But I felt no pain. Compared to the wounds already carved into my heart, what was a little physical agony?

I coolly wiped the blood from my face and looked at my so-called father as if he were a stranger.

"Consider this slap and this blood payment for the life you gave me. From this day on, I have nothing to do with this family."

With that, I turned and walked away.

Behind me came my father's vicious curses, accompanied by the loud crash of things being smashed.

"You stubborn fool! If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back! You can just die outside for all I care!"

I dragged my suitcase down the street, an outcast with nowhere to go.

In the end, I found my way to the lawless stretch of land between two boroughs.

There was no law here, no jurisdiction. Only chaos and exiled outcasts.

I rented the cheapest motel room.

Ironically, this was the first place Julian had settled me when he took me from my home ten years ago.

Back then, he had said, "You're an outsider. You'll be ostracized if you live in the core territory. This place is more suitable for you."

I believed him then, and was even grateful. Looking back, I realized he simply thought I wasn't worthy of setting foot on his turf.