"Mamma?" Leone's soft, hesitant voice dragged me back to the present.

He then lifted his head, his eyes brimming with worry while asking, "Why are you crying, Mamma?"

It was only then that I noticed my tears had drenched my clothes. I kneeled before him and pulled his thin frame into a tight embrace. "I'm going to leave Papa and plan to take you with me. Do you want to come with me, Leone?"

Leone's expression froze, his eyes welling up with tears in an instant. "Why? Please don't leave Papa, Mamma. He really loves us—he's just too busy for us right now…"

I felt a sharp stabbing pain after hearing that. It was heartbreaking that a five-year-old had already learned to justify his father's neglect. Dante surely "loved" us—but that love couldn't buy medicine, it couldn't provide warmth, and it was utterly useless when it came to saving a life in a moment of crisis.

I brushed the tears from his cheeks and said, "I'll make a wager with you, Leone—let's see whose door Papa goes to first when he returns. If he goes to Zia Sofia, then that means they're more important to Papa compared to us.

"In that case, you'll leave with me, and I'll find you an even better Papa. If he comes to us first, I'll stay, and I won't divorce Papa."

Leone bit his lip and nodded, his hand gripping the hem of my clothes tightly.

In the evening, a convoy of black cars drove into the estate. Dante stepped out wearing a meticulously tailored black suit. He stood tall with striking features, possessing exactly the kind of allure that could drive women crazy.

"Papa has returned!" Lucia's delighted voice echoed from the next door.

Dante's footsteps faltered for a mere heartbeat, and then, with almost no hesitation, he pivoted and walked directly toward Sofia's side of the estate.

I felt my heart sinking, but I still counted every step Dante took, clinging to a shred of hope, until he reached Sofia's side. I could hear Dante's voice from afar, saying, "I've bought Lucia a dress from Paraxia since she has grown so much. I've also bought you the newest jewelry of the season, Sofia."

Sofia feigned reluctance, saying, "Lucia has more dresses than she knows what to do with, and my vanity is already buried in jewels. You really ought to keep some of these gifts for Elena and Leone instead, Dante."

"It's not necessary since I've already made arrangements for Elena's side," Dante said, his refusal firm and unyielding.

"Papa!" Lucia exclaimed, throwing herself into Dante's embrace.

"You're not allowed to call him that, Lucia!" Sofia advised, her voice tinged with amusement.

"I want to call him Papa! Zio Dante is my Papa!"

"You can call me Papa in private from now on," Dante said with a chuckle; his laughter felt like a jagged blade, tearing through my ears and leaving my heart in shreds.

I lowered my gaze to Leone, noticing that tears were spilling from his eyes, but he remained stubbornly silent, biting his lip until it turned pale. I loathed my past self with a burning passion at that moment. I dropped to my knees and pulled him into a fierce embrace, saying, "I swear I'll find you a better Papa, Leone."

Leone buried his face in the crook of my neck, his tiny frame shaking with suppressed sobs. "I'll leave with you; I don't want this Papa anymore, Mamma."

It was then that the heavy door swung open. Dante's imposing figure filled the entrance, still carrying the chill of the night on his coat. He cocked his brow and asked, clearly only catching the end of Leone's sentence, "What don't you want anymore, Leone?"

I turned away to brush the tears from my eyes, while Leone kept his head down in silence.

Dante marched toward us and hoisted Leone into the air with one arm, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Did you miss me, Leone?"

Leone turned as stiff as a statue in Dante's arms.

Dante nuzzled Leone's face with his stubble, teasing, "Have you gotten upset with me, Leone? You know, I've brought you a gift. Do you want it, Leone?"

I looked on, disgusted by the familiar routine. In my past life, Dante always managed to use a few cheap, affectionate gestures to manipulate Leone into forgetting every bit of mistreatment he had suffered.

In this life, Leone was no longer the same. He asked softly, "Did you bring the limited-edition model you promised me, Papa?"

Dante froze for a split second before reaching out to pat Leone's head. "I could only get Lucia's dresses since that thing got stuck at customs. I'll definitely get it for you next time, Leone."

Leone asked tentatively, "W-What about the chocolate, Papa?"

Dante fished a flattened candy out of his pocket and said, "Lucia has such a sweet tooth, so I let her have the chocolate. I kept this one aside especially for you, though, Leone."

I noticed that Leone's gaze was fixed on that crushed sweet, his lips pursed tightly together. I knew that look all too well—it was born from a disappointment so deep there were no words left to say.

Dante turned his attention to me, his eyes resting briefly on my home clothes, which had turned pale from too many washes. "I'll arrange for a collection of next season's dresses to be delivered next month—deep blue suits you."

I pulled at the corner of my mouth, the gesture devoid of any real joy. I had heard that line far too often to believe it. In my past life, those promised dresses invariably ended up hanging in Sofia's dressing room instead of mine.

It was time for dinner, and we had nothing but a humble plate of pasta, served without so much as a spoonful of sauce.

Dante furrowed his brow and asked, "Why are you guys only having these? Where's the chef?"

"Sofia sent for the chef to run a rehearsal for Lucia's birthday dinner," I replied calmly as I served the pasta to Leone.

"Didn't I just—" Dante stopped mid-sentence, his expression turning slightly awkward. "I'll make sure the accountants allocate more funds to your account tomorrow."

I remained silent, offering no reply. I knew exactly how this story ended—by tomorrow, that "allocated fund" would somehow transform into a brand-new sports car for Sofia.

Sofia's voice came through the door, punctuated by a knock. "Lucia thinks she heard something scary in her room, so she's absolutely terrified right now. Do you think you can go keep her company, Dante? You know how vulnerable she's been ever since Damiano passed away…"

Dante got to his feet without hesitation.

I grabbed his sleeve and said, "Leone is running a slight fever tonight."

Dante didn't stop, his feet already carrying him out of the room. "Leone's a boy; a fever will only toughen up his resistance. Lucia, on the other hand, is a girl; she's fragile and easily frightened."

Leone asked softly once the door closed, "Can I sleep with you tonight, Mamma?"

I held Leone's small, cold feet close to my body, listening to the rain pounding outside. I couldn't sleep all night, and as dawn broke, I noticed that Leone's temperature had spiked to a terrifying degree.

"Leone's burning up, Dante!" I cried out again and again, but the only response was a haunting silence. I threw the door open, only to find the room empty—Dante was gone.

It was then that the bodyguard stated flatly, "Don Moretti has escorted Ms. Sofia to the private hospital before dawn, Donna Moretti. Ms. Lucia felt unwell in the middle of the night, and Don Moretti was frantic with worry."

I suddenly felt my surroundings going dark for a second. "Get the car ready—I'm heading to the hospital now!"

"I'm sorry, Donna Moretti, but Don Moretti has left with all the doctors and armored cars."

I couldn't wait any longer. I had spent an entire lifetime waiting before, and it ended with Leone's cold body in my arms. I bundled Leone into a raincoat and threw myself into the Novayork storm. I ran toward the main road, stumbling as I tried to flag down a cab.

It was then that a car suddenly pulled up in front of me, and the driver, a young man wearing glasses and appearing like an ordinary office worker, asked, "Do you need help, ma'am?"

"I beg you… I need you to take me to the hospital—my son is burning up."

I arrived at the hospital and walked through the hallway that felt like a freezer before the nurse took the unconscious Leone and asked with a furrowed brow, "Do you have a medical insurance card? You can pay a five-thousand-dollar deposit first if you don't have one."

I was about to say something when I overheard other nurses walking by, talking.

"Did you hear what happened? It was said that the Don of the Moretti famiglia took over the whole VIP floor upstairs. He's got the place on total lockdown and summoned a bunch of world-class specialists—all of that just because his daughter is sick!"

"I heard it's just a minor stomach bug, but he's still pouring a fortune into her care. I'm honestly so envious of her."

I felt a sudden, heavy dread settling in my chest after hearing that. I scrambled through my pockets, coming up with nothing but a handful of small bills; after all, Dante had cut me off, freezing my accounts for my own "protection" while he poured our wealth into Sofia's endless demands.

I gritted my teeth, took off the wedding ring that symbolized my status as the Donna, and threw it onto the counter. "Is this enough to cover it?"

I heard the crisp, metallic ring echoing as the diamond hit the tray. I used to treasure that piece of jewelry above all else, but at that moment, I felt nothing for the ring—and even less for Dante. I was only focused on Leone, thinking that I would take him and leave this place for good once he had recovered.

It was three days later when Leone finally turned a corner. I carried him back to the estate, only to find Dante pacing restlessly in the living room.

He walked up to me in long strides and asked, "Where have you been, Elena? Do you realize how many of our rivals are lurking in the shadows right now? How could you take Leone out on your own?"

"Leone was burning up with a fever, so I took him to the hospital," I replied flatly, my voice frighteningly calm.

Dante's expression shifted sharply. "Why didn't you call me then?"

I gave a short, humorless laugh. "You want me to call you, huh? What is Leone's life worth when measured against Lucia, your darling 'daughter,' Dante?"

Dante reached out for Leone, only for the latter to recoil into my embrace, trembling with fear. He froze for a moment and said softly, "I had no idea Leone was ill, too. Lucia's situation was just so critical then—"

I cut him off, saying, "It's always about Lucia, Dante. Do you even remember Leone's birthday? Do you remember when he was last hospitalized? Do you even remember that Leone's allergic to peanuts?"

Dante tried to speak but found himself silent. He tried to make up for it, attempting to win Leone over with various pricey toys. "How about I take you to the famiglia's training range to play, Leone? You've always wanted to watch me use a gun, right?"

Leone's eyes shifted with a spark of interest—the innate longing for strength that all boys possessed. "Do you mean it, Papa?"

"Of course!" Dante replied, lifting Leone into his arms.

I saw the expectation in Leone's eyes and couldn't bring myself to refuse the invitation.

Dante, Leone, and I were just about to head out when Lucia burst onto the scene. "I'm coming too! I want to see Zio Dante fire the guns too!"

Sofia trailed after Lucia with a worried expression. "You ought to stop making a fuss—that's a place for boys, not girls, Lucia."

Lucia yelled, "I don't care! Zio Dante gave me his word, saying that I'm the Principessa of the Moretti famiglia and that I can go anywhere I please!"

Dante looked toward me, appearing torn.

I sneered before he could even open his mouth, saying, "Let's go together, then."

I understood him too well—in a situation where he had to choose one of two, he would always make the wrong choice.

Dante held Lucia's hand in his left hand and held Sofia in his right arm after arriving at the training grounds, introducing them to his Made Men.

I, on the other hand, held Leone's hand and followed in the back, as if we were merely two superfluous bodyguards.

It was then that one of the Made Men, brown-nosing without a clue of the situation, exclaimed, "Your daughter is the spitting image of you, Don Moretti—she's got that same ruthless edge!"

Dante's expression immediately hardened. "What the hell are you talking about? That boy behind me is my son."

In that instant, the atmosphere went dead still, and I suddenly felt Leone's hand shaking in mine.

It was then that Dante's trusted confidant came running over. "It's time to hold an emergency meeting, Don Moretti—the Illyrians have made a move!"

Dante hurriedly instructed, "You guys should wait in the lounge—and you're not allowed to wander around, Leone."

I returned from getting water only to find Sofia standing in the hallway. "You're so pitiful, Elena. You're the Donna, yet you're living like a nanny. Do you actually believe Dante loves you? He is merely going through the motions of being a husband, while his heart was given to me long ago, Elena."

I paid her no mind and walked right by.

Sofia blocked my path, unwilling to back down. "You'd better hold it right there! What makes you think someone like you—a hothouse flower—deserves to be the Donna?

"You were a mere nobody while I fought alongside Damiano to build this empire! You ought to know that I won't allow you to be the Donna if I can't have that position, Elena!"

I stopped walking and met her eyes calmly. "If you want to be the Donna that much, I'm willing to hand over the title to you, Sofia. If you are capable of bearing it, that is."