When I was fourteen, my brother—the Don—brought home an orphan girl to settle a debt of gratitude.

From then on, my life within the Corleone family always took a backseat to hers.

The girl framed me, claiming I was trying to poison her. My brother slapped me across the face and locked me in the attic. To make it up to her, he even gave her the position that was meant for me.

This time, I didn't say a word. I just packed my bags and left.

It took a few days for him to realize I hadn't returned to the family estate. Only then did he find out that I’d joined an international medical aid organization—and that I was never coming back to New York.

After that, he completely broke down.

On the day I received the email for the international medical relief mission, Father Mario patted my shoulder in the shadows of the church.

"Vivian, congratulations. This assignment will keep you away for years. You’ll probably rarely see New York again."

"Go home and spend some time with your family before you leave."

I tucked the envelope into my pocket and walked toward the heavily guarded Corleone estate one last time.

In the backyard, Rocco was preparing Elena’s eighteenth birthday gala. I walked slowly toward him.

"Rocco, I’m home."

Rocco turned around, and when he saw it was me, his voice was like ice.

"Vivian, finally decided to show your face? It’s Elena’s birthday. Don’t you dare start any drama today."

Afraid he’d kick me out, I quickly pulled out an exquisite gift box.

"I brought her a gift. It’s those handmade Belgian chocolates she’s always wanted."

"Since when did you become so considerate?"

I ignored his sarcasm and forced a smile. "Rocco, your shirt smells like blood and cordite. Take it off and I’ll handle it for you."

"Elena... she can’t stand that smell."

This was the first time I’d ever bowed my head to him, the first time I’d been this submissive. I just wanted to maintain a shred of sibling connection during my last few days. After this, there probably wouldn't be another chance.

Rocco was silent for a moment. Seeing my desperate attempt to please him, he finally relented. He unfastened his cufflinks, stripped off the expensive shirt, and tossed it to me.

I caught it immediately and ran to the laundry room in the side wing. While clearing the pockets, I checked them out of habit and found a receipt from a high-end boutique tucked into the lining.

Holding that small slip of paper, my heart skipped a beat.

Five years ago, Rocco took me to Manhattan while he was settling some accounts. I’d stared at a black gown encrusted with diamond chips in a window for the longest time. That day, as he wiped blood off his piece, he’d gruffly promised me: once he was settled in as Don, I’d have first pick of the most expensive dresses in New York.

A warmth spread through me. He remembered. He still cared about his own sister.

By the time I finished with the shirt and returned, Rocco and Elena were already seated at the long walnut dining table. It was laid out with top-tier bluefin tuna and bottles of Lafite.

But I noticed something immediately—there were only two silver settings on the table.

I didn't say a word. I grabbed a set of cutlery from the cabinet myself and sat at the very end of the long table.

Elena cut into her Wagyu beef, fawning over Rocco. "Rocco, this is amazing. I want more..."

Rocco turned to look at me.

Before he could speak, I pushed my plate toward the center of the table. "I’m on a diet lately. I don't really want anything this greasy. Give it all to her."

As I looked down, I saw Rocco’s hand pause over his wine glass, a flash of surprise in his eyes. But a second later, he placed the best cut of Wagyu onto Elena’s plate, his voice low and doting.

"Eat as much as you like. It’s your big day."

At that moment, the most expensive food in the world tasted like sawdust in my mouth. My arms were so thin they were practically just bone—did I really need to diet?

My nose stung, and I downed a heavy gulp of red wine. I figured if I filled my stomach, maybe my heart wouldn't feel so empty.

After dinner, Rocco pulled out a black and gold gift box.

"Elena, see what I got for you."

Elena, still chewing on the chocolates I’d given her, tore open the box. Her eyes lit up instantly.

"Wow! It’s the limited-edition diamond gown from Fifth Avenue! Rocco, it’s beautiful!"

"It’s nothing. I just landed a major score. I’ll buy you whatever you want from now on."

The silver steak knife in my hand nearly hit the floor.

So... the dress wasn't for me.

Rocco noticed my reaction, and his voice immediately returned to that cold, Don authority.

"Vivian, what now? You’re going to lose your mind again over a dress?"

My chest tightened with a sharp, stinging pain. It was clear that the promise he’d made five years ago had been dead and buried for a long time.

"It’s nothing. My hand just slipped when I was clearing the table."

After I finished scrubbing the mess in the kitchen, I walked into the living room. Rocco was sitting on the sofa, carefully stitching a tear in Elena’s silk dressing gown.

I stood in the shadows for a long time, debating with myself, before finally deciding to come clean about the international medical relief mission.

"Rocco, in a few days, I’m planning to—"

He cut me off, his voice like a blade.

"That supervisor job I mentioned at the Southside Trading Company? It’s off the table."

He didn't even look up. The long steel needle in his hand caught the light, making my head swim.

"Elena says she’s tired of being cooped up at the university. She thinks it’s boring. I gave the position to her."

"Just wait a few more days. Once I get the business out west sorted, I’ll find something else for you."

Thinking of my decision to join the relief mission, I refused. "I don’t need it. Don't go through the trouble of finding me a job."

Rocco’s hands stopped moving abruptly.

"Vivian, don't catch an attitude with me. Openings like that don't happen every day."

"If Elena gets tired of it after a couple of days and wants out, she can just give the spot back to you, right?"

I looked him straight in the eye and said, syllable by syllable, "I really don't need that job."

"Since you’ve already decided it’s hers, then it’s hers."

Rocco looked at me and suddenly let out a mocking laugh.

"I knew you still despised her deep down. It must have been quite the performance for you to play nice at her birthday tonight."

He stood up and headed upstairs without a backward glance. I just stood there, paralyzed.

Back in my cramped little room, I pulled out an old leather bag and started packing for the medical mission.

There wasn't much to take—just a few old clothes and some well-worn medical journals. Tucked at the bottom was a ratty, balding teddy bear—one Rocco had sewn for me by hand years ago.

Back then, Rocco had been the perfect brother.

We grew up without parents, clinging to each other in the slums. We survived on neighbors' charity and the protection money Rocco collected on the streets.

I remember when the neighborhood punks would point at me and call me a stray, a nobody. Rocco would pull me into his arms and roar at them with bloodshot eyes:

"Don’t listen to them, Vivian! I want you! You’re not a stray!"

"As long as I’m around, you’ll always have a home."

But everything changed the moment Elena walked through the door.

Five years ago, the old Don—the man who had always looked out for us—was turned into a pincushion during a turf war. His family fled overnight, leaving Elena behind as a lonely orphan.

The old Don had saved Rocco’s life once. To settle that debt of honor, Rocco ignored the family elders and brought her home.

From that moment on, Rocco’s heart belonged entirely to Elena.

The guards around the estate used to make crude jokes in private, calling Elena the "child bride" Rocco had scavenged. As time went on, Rocco seemed to take it to heart; the way he doted on her was so obvious a blind man could see it.

Until a year ago.

I saw Elena with my own eyes in a back alley, fooling around with the spoiled brat from a rival family. She was laughing at Rocco right to the guy's face.

She said Rocco was nothing but a muscle-brained thug.

She said she’d never settle for a provincial hick who smelled like gunpowder; she was going to marry into high society.

But before I could tell Rocco any of this, Elena spotted me. She beat me home.

By the time I walked through the door, she was collapsed on the floor next to a shattered tea set.

"Rocco! Vivian is jealous because you love me! She tried to poison my tea! My stomach hurts so much..."

"She’s trying to kill me!"

"My father saved your lives! Is this how you treat me?"

"I didn't—"

Before I could even start to explain, Rocco’s hand caught me hard across the face. He was convinced I’d done it, simply because I knew my way around medicine.

"Is this how you repay the old Don? If he hadn't taken that bullet for us, we’d both be dead!"

"Vivian, you better pray Elena is okay. Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of your life atoning for this!"

"Lock her in the attic."

Rocco called his men to lock me away. He scooped Elena up and sprinted for the hospital without looking back.

Since then, as long as Elena was around, we couldn't have a civil conversation. To avoid trouble, I’d spent the last year practically living in the lab.

I was lost in the memory when the door suddenly swung open.

"Vivian, why the hell are you packing bags in the middle of the night?"

"I got the assignment for the international medical relief mission—"

I didn't even finish before Rocco cut me off with an impatient wave of his hand.

"Enough, Vivian. You’re trying to threaten me with that 'running away' bullshit again? Save it. I don't have time to coddle you today."

The words died in my throat. I swallowed them back down. Forget it. He didn't care anyway. Once I completely vanished the day after tomorrow, he’d find out the truth soon enough.

I gripped my old leather jacket and tossed out a casual lie. "I’m meeting some classmates to go shopping downtown. Just getting a head start on packing."

Rocco’s expression softened slightly. "I’m taking Elena to Fifth Avenue tomorrow. Don’t wait up for us for lunch; you’re on your own."

With that, he turned around and shut the door.

The next day, Rocco didn't bring Elena back to the estate until late at night. Elena was cradling high-end desserts while Rocco followed behind, loaded down with shopping bags full of luxury goods. They were laughing and joking as they walked through the door.

"Vivian, look at the new bag Rocco bought me! It’s a limited edition."

She intentionally flashed it in front of my face. I just forced a smile and pretended not to care.

After dinner, I was finishing up the dishes when I realized the bracelet Rocco had given me was missing. I turned around just in time to see Elena standing by the fireplace. She let her hand slip, and the bracelet hit the marble floor, snapping into several pieces.

The rage went straight to my head. I rushed over and shoved her to the ground.

"Elena, what the hell is wrong with you!"

Elena sat on the floor and instantly dissolved into loud, sobbing wails. Rocco heard the commotion and stormed in. He didn't ask questions; he just started yelling.

"Vivian! Why the hell are you putting hands on her?"

I bit my lower lip, my whole body trembling with resentment. "She smashed my bracelet! The one you gave me with your first cut as Underboss!"

Rocco’s furious expression froze for a split second. But he still instinctively jumped to Elena’s defense.

"I’m sure she didn't mean it. I’ll buy you a more expensive one another day."

"Don't bother," I interrupted coldly.

Elena sat on the floor, whimpering. "Rocco, I really didn't mean to. My hand just slipped... it’s my fault for being so clumsy."

The moment her tears started falling, Rocco believed every word. Over the past year, this scene had played out a thousand times. Now, I was too exhausted to even try explaining.

In the middle of the night, Rocco knocked on my door.

"I know you love the smoked meat from that one deli. I picked some up for you today."

He shoved a package into my hand, a hint of awkwardness on his cold, hard face. "About earlier... don't hold it against Elena. Also, that supervisor position at the trading company? It was originally under your name. Now that it’s going to Elena, I need you to sign this waiver."

The small smile that had started to form on my lips died instantly. So his "kindness" had a price. It was all just to clear a path for Elena.

"Give me the pen."

I nodded and signed the paper. Once he left, I threw the package of meat straight into the trash. Along with it went the very last shred of hope I had for him.

The day before I left, I specifically asked Rocco to come home early, telling him I’d cook dinner and wait for him. Even if I was cutting ties, we deserved one last meal together.

But I waited until the early hours of the morning, and he never showed. Elena was nowhere to be found either. Worried that something had happened, I threw on a coat and went to the family headquarters.

The guard at the gate looked at me with total confusion. "Miss Vivian? What are you still doing here?"

"The Boss took everyone to Long Island for a getaway. Said he was bringing the family..."

Standing in the cold wind, I had my answer instantly. Rocco had kept it from me simply because he was afraid I’d start another fight with Elena and make him look bad as Don.

Seeing me frozen there, the guard tried to comfort me. "Don't worry, the Boss will be back tomorrow afternoon."

He won't see me. I’ll be gone by morning.

That night, facing a table full of cold food, I left one final farewell letter for Rocco.

At dawn the next day, I took the ticket Father Mario had given me and boarded the train out of New York. I looked at the clock in the carriage. At this hour, Rocco should be getting home. He’d be just in time to see that empty dining table.