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."

The day of the family tribunal arrived. The hall was packed with the Ferrante family members. They had all come to watch me fail—to watch me get humiliated, shamed, and cast out from the family I was born into.

Bianca sat in the gallery, staring at me with mockery written all over her face. My parents sat beside her. They would not even look at me.

I stood at the petitioner's podium wearing a black suit, my hair pinned up without a strand out of place. My belly had begun to swell slightly, hidden beneath the tailored cut.

Across from me stood Cesare. His suit was sharp, and his presence was commanding. He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. "Giulia, it's not too late to back out. For the sake of all our years together, as long as you withdraw your petition now and apologize to Bianca, I promise I won't hold you accountable."

I shook my head. "Never."

The gavel struck, and the tribunal began.

Cesare had hired an elite legal team. Every mistake in our marriage was documented, magnified, and weaponized. Finally, Cesare submitted a document.

"Your Honor, as you can see here, Giulia and I have been using contraception throughout our marriage. I have prescriptions from our private physician as proof. And yet Giulia is now pregnant. This is ironclad evidence of her infidelity. I request the tribunal rule against Giulia!"

Papa shot to his feet, his eyes practically shooting flames at me. "You shameless disgrace!"

Mamma covered her mouth as tears spilled down her face. "I never imagined in my worst nightmares that you would do something like this..."

Bianca, cradling the baby, went to console them. "Giulia just lost her way for a moment. It's alright. When she's gone, I'll still take care of you both..."

The room erupted into chaos, and everyone began talking at once.

The judge struck the gavel. "Cesare Ferrante merely assisted Bianca Moretti in caring for an infant. This does not constitute wrongdoing within the marriage.

"Based on the evidence presented, Giulia is the one at fault in this marriage. If Giulia cannot provide new evidence, this tribunal will strip her of her title, freeze her personal accounts, and exile her from the family!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd. Cesare and Bianca threw their arms around each other in celebration.

Everyone thought I was finished. They were already celebrating their victory.

Then, I smiled.

"I do have evidence, actually." I pulled a brown envelope from my bag and handed it to the judge. "Surveillance footage from Bianca's home. And documentation proving that Bianca's husband is not dead. He's currently a high-ranking member of a rival family."

Bianca's face was drained of all color. The tribunal hall fell into deadly silence, with every pair of eyes turned to me. My counter-attack had begun.