No one dared to speak, and the room fell into a deathly silence.

I did not repeat myself. I simply turned to leave.

Cesare grabbed me from behind, locking his arms tight around me. "Don't go, Giulia. It's my fault. I'll change. Give me one chance and I'll change everything."

His men crowded around, blocking the door.

"Madre, what are you doing? The Don has been with you since high school and through college. You have ten years of marriage between you. How could you throw that away?"

"He loves you like a madman, and this is how you treat him? You're carrying his child. You want the baby to grow up without a father?"

At those words, Mamma's eyes widened.

"What did he say?" She grabbed my arm, her nails digging deep into my skin. "Giulia, you're pregnant? And you still want a divorce? Are you insane? You think you can run off with the baby? Where do you think you'll go?"

I pried their fingers off me one by one.

"It's my child. I'll raise it myself. I'm getting this divorce."

Mamma's voice cracked. "Haven't you always wanted a child? You waited from 20 to 30. Now, you finally have one and you want to destroy your marriage?"

I did not answer her. I used to want a baby—desperately. Yet three years ago, my only pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. Now, I was finally pregnant again, and he was pouring all his fatherly love into Bianca's baby.

All I wanted now was to cut ties with Cesare completely.

Just then, the door opened. My stepsister Bianca walked in, cradling her six-month-old baby. Her eyes swept past everyone and locked directly on Cesare.

"Don Ferrante, I hope I'm not late."

The moment he saw Bianca, Cesare released me and strode over to take the baby from her arms. He looked down at the child with such tenderness as if he were gazing at his own flesh and blood.

My stomach clenched violently. I covered my mouth immediately, not letting anyone see me tremble.

"Giulia, I heard the argument just now. I didn't know having the Don help me with the baby would make you this angry." She lowered her eyes, looking fragile and pitiful. "I'll find a new place right away. I'll move out tomorrow. Please don't punish the Don because of me."

Cesare frowned, his tone disapproving. "Why would you move out? I'm just helping you watch the baby. It's nothing."

Then, he turned to me.

"Giulia, our problems are between us. Don't drag innocent people into this. You said someone ran you off the road, but the surveillance footage showed the other vehicle just driving normally next to you.

"Tell me the truth. Did you stage that accident yourself? Were you deliberately trying to miscarry? Did you want to get rid of the baby so that you could run off with your lover?"

Everyone held their breath. Even the guards went still.

Papa turned red with rage. He grabbed a glass of wine from the table and threw it at me.

"This is about the family heir and you think you can make that decision alone? You've disgraced your name! If you mention divorce one more time, don't ever call me your father again!"

Cesare's eyes flashed red as he threatened me, "Giulia, I can forgive all of this. But if we divorce, the Ferrante family won't protect you anymore!"

I slowly pushed my soaked hair back from my face. The chilled wine dripped down my neck.

My voice came out steady and firm as I said, "Even if I'm no longer Dante Rossi's daughter and no longer the Ferrante Madre… I'm still divorcing you."

I turned and walked away without looking back.

For the next three days, I stayed at a hotel. I turned off my phone and cut off all contact.

On the fourth morning, I pushed open the door to a private café. My personal lawyer, Dario Ricci, was waiting for me. I had once protected him from a lethal threat. He owed me his life. Even if every member of the Ferrante family turned their backs on me, his loyalty would never waver.

Dario finished reading the materials I handed him, then looked up. Behind his glasses, his expression was complicated. "Madre, do you know what you're doing?"

"I do," I said.

"A family tribunal," he repeated the words slowly.

"The last time someone requested this was 15 years ago. After that trial, the petitioner's mother was exiled from the family. The petitioner herself jumped into the river three months later.

"Madre, you don't have to go down this road. Once you initiate a tribunal, everything about you will be laid bare in front of everyone. The heir in your belly, your social media chat logs, even your report cards from school. All of it becomes evidence.

"Every pair of eyes will scrutinize you. Are you sure you can handle that?"

I stirred my coffee. The sweet heart in the foam gradually dissolved, transforming into an 'X' shape that screamed vengeance.

"Can the tribunal ruling apply to the Don?"

He nodded.

I smiled. "Then there's nothing I can't handle. Also, stop addressing me as 'Madre.'"

...

The afternoon the family tribunal notice went out, my phone exploded. The first message came from Mamma: [Are you trying to humiliate me in front of everyone?]

The second came from Papa: [I wish I'd never had you.]

The third came from an unknown number with only one sentence: [You'll regret this.]

Family members sent countless hateful messages. Looking at the words on the screen, a wave of bitterness washed over me. I closed my eyes and forced down every emotion. Then, I opened an encrypted folder.

Inside were hundreds of intimate videos of Cesare and Bianca. When I first installed the security system at home, Bianca took advantage of the situation and asked me to install one at her place for free. I kept the highest administrative access to that system.

Every night after Cesare put Bianca's baby to sleep, he would slip into her bedroom. All those vows he had made to me became a joke. He was not only caring for that child in front of me every day, but he was also caring for the child's mother in her bed.

A notification interrupted my thoughts. It was from Dario.

[Ms. Rossi, the tribunal is set for two days from now. I have all the materials you requested.]

…

Early the next morning, I received a text from the Underboss.

[Madre, there's a problem with the family business. That cross-border acquisition you were handling… They screwed it up. The other party is leaving tomorrow. Can you come in? Just for a bit.]

A string of crying emojis followed.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen. I should not go. The tribunal was imminent. Any complications would be asking for trouble.

Still, that acquisition was something I had worked on while pregnant with my first child.

Back then, my morning sickness was brutal. I would run to the bathroom in the middle of meetings, vomit, wipe my mouth, and return to negotiations. I pushed through four months. I pushed until the other party agreed. I pushed until the contract was finalized. I pushed until the baby was gone.

I had poured everything into that deal.

I sighed and got up to change my clothes.

By the time I arrived at the office, it was almost 11:00 pm. The lights were still on. The moment I walked in, I knew the situation was worse than I had imagined.

Seven or eight people crowded around the conference table, everyone fully panicking. When they saw me enter, they looked up at once, and their eyes were flooded with relief as if I were their savior.

"Madre!"

The secretary rushed over, her eyes red. "You're finally here! We don't understand the contract clauses, and the other party's lawyer won't budge. They're flying out tomorrow morning. If we don't get this signed, the family will have to pay this much..."

She gestured at an astronomical figure.

I glanced over without speaking and walked straight to the table to pick up the contract. Three pages in, I found the problem.

"Here." I pointed to one clause. "The translation is wrong. What they actually mean is installment payments, not a lump sum."

Several people leaned in. After staring for a while, understanding finally dawned.

"I'll get the translator to redo it..."

"There's no time." I set the contract down. "Get me my pen."

I sat down and began making corrections line by line. When I reached the fourth clause, the conference room door opened. The sound of high heels clicked across the floor. I did not look up, but I knew who it was.

"Well, well… If it isn't our family's first-ever Madre to request a tribunal." Bianca's laugh dripped with false sweetness. She walked over while carrying the baby and leaned against the edge of the table, looking down at me.

"Why isn't my dear sister at home resting during her pregnancy? What are you doing here? Don't tell me you came to ask for child support."

The secretary bristled with anger, ready to snap back, but I stopped her with a look. I focused on revising the clauses, treating Bianca's words like background noise.

When Bianca saw that I would not take the bait, her smile froze for an instant. She glanced down at the pen in my hand, and her eyes shifted.

"That's a nice pen." She suddenly reached out. "Let me see it?"

Before I could react, she had already pulled the pen from my hand. It was a niche luxury fountain pen. Cesare had given it to me during our first year of marriage. It was not worth much anymore, but it had been with me for ten years.

"Give it back."

I looked up at her, frowning. Bianca held the pen up, turning it over in her hands. "It's just an old pen. Why are you so worked up? I'm just looking at it. I'm not keeping it."

She took a step back. "Go ahead and finish your contract. I'll give it back when I'm done looking."

I took a deep breath, suppressing my irritation. "Bianca, put the pen down."

"Oh my, are you actually getting angry?" She widened her eyes dramatically. "It's just a pen. Is it really that serious?"

She turned as if to walk away.

I finally lost my patience. I stood up, walked around the table, and approached her. The moment I reached out my hand, she screamed.

"Madre, what are you doing?" In the next instant, her arms loosened around the baby. The infant slipped from her grasp, and a heart-wrenching cry erupted.

Just then, the office door slammed open, and Cesare stormed in.

Bianca had fallen too. She sat on the floor with disheveled hair and her face streaked with tears.

"My baby! Don, check on my baby!"

He rushed forward, scooping up the wailing baby with one arm while helping Bianca up with the other. "What happened?"

Bianca collapsed against him, trembling all over and sobbing hysterically. Her shaking finger pointed at me.

"I just thought the Madre's pen was pretty and wanted to play with it. I didn't expect her to throw my baby to the floor!"

The baby was still crying. The shrill wail cut through the room like a knife slicing into everyone's hearts.

Cesare looked up at me. That gaze sent ice through my veins, and he said in a hoarse voice, "Giulia, the baby is only six months old. You hate me, and you hate her mother. You should've come after us. But you went after a child?"

"I didn't touch her."

"Then how did she fall?"

"She let go of the baby herself."

"She let go of the baby herself?" Cesare laughed, but it sounded awful.

"Giulia, listen to yourself. She was holding the baby and standing in front of you. You claim she intentionally dropped her own baby? You think she did it on purpose? She deliberately dropped her own child?"

I said nothing. What could I say? To anyone watching, my action of taking back the pen looked no different from pushing her.

Cesare handed the baby to someone nearby and walked toward the pen on the floor. There was a sharp crack, and the pen snapped. Ink gushed from the broken pieces, smearing across the sole of his shoe.

Ten years… He had just crushed the pen, which symbolized our time together, beneath his foot and ground it to pieces.

His voice turned cold as ice. "Giulia, since you insist on holding a family tribunal, then I'll grant you your wish."