I Left, and the Family Collapsed

Three months after Pete took his foster sister as his mistress, I terminated my marriage, chose to die on paper, and vanished from his life entirely.

One quiet morning, I handed my child over to the nannies arranged by the family and walked out of the Rizzuto estate alone.

Pete didn’t chase after me that day.

He believed I would come back. Once I had calmed down, I would lower my head.

The following spring, I was diagnosed with cancer.

Standing in the hospital corridor, I suddenly remembered years ago—

Pete had taken my hand and said,

“You’ll be the finest Donna this Rizzuto family has ever had.”

What pulled me back was not Pete.

It was a letter from Sicily.

Thin paper.

Cold, rigid handwriting—the kind favored by old families who had ruled too long to bother with sentiment.

“The heir has begun showing signs of emotional instability.”

“Recent violent behavior has caused internal concern.”

“There is disagreement within the family regarding the current Don’s judgment.”

In the mafia world, there is only one reason the elders would bypass a man and reach out to a wife officially presumed dead—

When the family itself begins to lose balance.

So I returned. To the place I had once fled with everything I had.

This time, there were no illusions. I no longer placed any hope in emotion. I was there only to fulfill the obligations of the family.

I knew exactly how much time I had left. And I knew exactly what needed to be done.

I became a proper Donna.

I no longer demanded monogamy— I no longer asked for emotional loyalty.

That kind of fantasy had never belonged to this world—certainly not to a mafia family.

I personally selected women for Pete: clean backgrounds, obedient temperaments, fertile.

I fired the tutors who had been forcing Berg to study, so he could do whatever he wanted.

I diligently took care of Tom's mother, reorganized the accounts, and mediated factional disputes.

The family stabilized.

Everything fell back into place. Except Pete.

That day, he finally snapped.

In the study, priceless ornaments shattered one after another, fragments scattering across the floor.

“I’ve already sent Mia away!”

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice hoarse, like a cornered beast.

“What more do you want from me before you’ll stop?”

I stood there calmly.

“Stop what?”

Berg, standing nearby, was on the verge of tears.

“Mother, I was wrong,” he said.

“I won’t say men should have multiple women anymore. I won’t mention Mia again.”

“Please… don’t do this anymore. Okay?”

Pete didn’t understand. He thought this was my revenge.

He looked at me for a long time, exhaustion finally overtaking his rage.

“Are you trying to punish me,” he asked quietly,

“or yourself?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Instead, I said, evenly,

“Isn’t this the life you chose?”

He let out a short, broken breath.

“You came back,” he said.

“So stop pretending this is what you want.”

“We can still fix this. The three of us—we can live properly again. Isn’t that enough?”

I nodded once.

“Fine.”

The word left my mouth without hesitation.

And that was what broke him.

Something in his expression shifted—not anger, not rage, but the slow realization that I wasn’t bargaining anymore.

A pause settled between us. Then footsteps.

A maid’s voice came from the doorway, careful and deferential.

“Madam. The women you requested have arrived.

I smiled faintly. "Let them in."

I rose to greet them personally, my voice calm and composed.

"These women were all chosen by me personally," I said.

"I believe you will find them very suitable."

As soon as they entered the room, Peter was stunned.

All three women bore a striking resemblance to the same woman.

Mia. His foster sister.

Pete’s hand tightened slowly, his knuckles whitening.

I felt nothing.

If he had once loved her to the point of losing control, then women like these were the most suitable compensation—for the family, for bloodline continuity.

“Greetings, Don Rizzuto,” the three women said in unison.

The first to break was Berg.

He rushed to my side, looking up at me, desperation in his eyes.

“Mother, if you truly intend to live well again, then please send them away.”

“Father won’t like them. I don’t like them either.”

I brushed his hand aside, my voice cold.

“Nonsense.”

“How can a family as large as the Rizzutos lack women to attend its Don?”

“You are no longer a child. Do not disgrace yourself at a moment like this.”

I turned to Pete. “Shall they stay tonight?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward abruptly and gripped my shoulders.

“Why must you do this?”

“Are you reminding me—again and again—of how unforgivable my mistake was?”

My voice remained even.

“You’re overthinking.”

“The Rizzuto family has only one heir. That is not the mark of a great house.”

“I am doing this for the family.”

“Enough!” He shoved me away.

I lost my balance and fell. My hand landed on the shattered remains of a vase—

blood spilled instantly.

For a moment, he froze completely.

“Isabella—” He bent down to help me up.

I avoided his touch. Instead, I rose with the aid of a maid.

That single movement— destroyed the last trace of reason in his eyes.

“So you despise my touch that much now?”

I looked at him. And said nothing.