For His True Love, He Lost His Throne

I gave up on my inheritance right during the time my love for Matteo Rossini ran the deepest.

When I was about to leave, Papa looked at me before saying lightly, "I bet that you'll come home in three years."

Back then, I didn't take his words to heart.

After spending three years overcoming life's hurdles with Matteo, he finally becomes the Don of his family.

On the day the inheritance party is to be held, I decide to wear a dress that I've treasured for a very long time but never had the heart to wear.

But the moment I walk into the banquet hall, I see Matteo holding hands with a radiant young woman. She's Isabella Ginevra, a popular socialite in the elite society.

Isabella flits among the guests charismatically, as though she were the lady of the house. She's capable of engaging in any conversational topic, be it finance strategies or channels to obtain firearms.

I try to participate in a conversation, only for Isabella to cut me off with a titter.

"I thought you've been spending the past few years being cooped up indoors. It turns out that you know a thing or two about these topics, huh?"

Everyone around us falls silent for a brief moment.

My expression freezes on my face. Then, I turn to look at Matteo subconsciously.

But he doesn't even bother looking my way. Instead, he merely says softly, "We're talking business here, Bianca. You should sit with the other ladies."

I clench my fists instantly. But in the end, I opt to not say anything and just walk away.

Through the throngs of the guests, I can see Matteo and Isabella chatting animatedly with each other in low tones. For once, Matteo looks relaxed and at ease—an expression that I haven't seen for a long time.

Suddenly, I hear a guest remarking, "If someone like Ms. Ginevra were to become the Donna, she'd be of great help to the Don."

A chorus of agreements ring out around him.

Matteo just smiles in return, though he doesn't deny that remark. In fact, he even toasts to Isabella and drinks to her in front of everyone.

That's when I draw to my feet and walk over to snatch the glass out of his hand.

"I think so too. In that case, she can have the position as the Donna, then."

"Bianca Valenti."

Matteo Rossini frowned. His voice was laced with a warning edge.

When I ignored him, the room fell into an awkward silence. Guests exchanged awkward glances and seemed unsure what to do.

Just then, Isabella Ginevra let out a soft laugh.

"Look at how our mindless joking actually got to our Donna."

She raised her glass toward me and gave a slight bow. "I apologize on their behalf, Donna. Your wedding to Don Rossini was the talk of the town. We've all seen how much he treasures you."

Matteo nodded along. "You're taking this too seriously, Bianca."

His words felt like a needle driving straight into my heart. My expression hardened as I looked straight into his eyes. "I'm being completely serious, Matteo."

He sighed, then glanced at his watch. "Let's end the party here for today."

The guests exchanged glances as they reluctantly filed out, their glances suggesting that I had spoiled the party.

Isabella was the last to leave. She pulled a file from her bag and handed it to Matteo.

"This is everything I gathered on the Castelli Famiglia's arms business. It took quite a bit of effort to get my hands on this."

Matteo's expression softened, and he gave her a smile. "Thanks. I'll have Fabio send you some jewelry later."

"I don't need that," she abruptly cut him off before reaching up to pat him lightly on the shoulder.

Then, she laughed. "You know what I want."

The blatant intimacy made me sway and knock over a wine glass. Only then did the crash seem to snap Matteo awake and bid Isabella a short goodbye.

Soon, the room was empty except for the two of us.

He glanced at my wine-stained dress and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket.

The man everyone had just admired as the Don now knelt before me and gently wiped the hem of my dress.

"This is your favorite dress, isn't it? Why'd you let it get stained?"

His voice was calm and gentle, but it made my nose sting.

I brushed his hand away and turned toward the bedroom. But before I could take more than a few steps forward, he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms.

His warm breath brushed my neck as he held me tightly, as if for fear that I would escape.

"Behave, Bianca. Stop making a scene."

He pressed me against the table, murmuring "I love you" over and over into my ear.

It was the scene I once fantasized about—him reaching the pinnacle of power and declaring his love for me at the highest point of his glory. But why… couldn't I smile?

That night, he claimed me again and again, and I cried every single time. My body throbbed with pain, and my heart felt like it was shredded by the memories of everything that had happened at the party.

After it ended, he stepped onto the balcony and lit a cigar. I thought I heard a low chuckle.

"Yeah, she's calmed down.

"You know her. She's always been sensible."

I slowly opened my eyes and tightened my grip on the bedsheet.

"Tomorrow, I'm taking her to the ski resort for a vacation. I'll send a car to pick you up then.

"I still need to talk to you about the Castelli Famiglia. You know how much of a handful they are."

The call didn't last long. When Matteo came back in, he leaned down and kissed my forehead, just like he always did.

I kept my eyes closed and felt the kiss, but the thorn in my heart only dug deeper.