By the fifth year of my marriage to James Hill, he began pretending to be his late twin brother, the late Don of the family. With that, he took over all of a Don’s duties and the role of my sister-in-law, Hilary’s husband.

Every time after he slept with her, he would cut his arm open, kneel before me, and beg for forgiveness.

“Pia, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Once Hilary gives birth to the heir and secures her position, I’ll fake my death and come back for you.”

He told me his twin brother had died saving him, so he had to fulfill his brother’s last wish.

During the year he pretended to be his brother, James slept with Hilary ninety-nine times. After a full year, Hilary finally gave birth to the family’s heir.

I truly believed James would fake his death as promised, then take our son and me away from this bloody life. However, I saw him with Hilary in his arms, teasing the tiny baby she carried.

“Hilary, I’ll stay with you and our child until he’s ready to take over as the next Don.”

Silently, I wiped my tears and went back to my room to pack my suitcase.

My son saw me crying and ran into my arms, gently wiping away my tears with his little hands.

“Ma, Aunt Hilary already had her baby. Why isn’t Papa coming home yet?”

I placed my clothes into the suitcase as I told him softly, “Because he doesn’t want us anymore. But don’t be sad, sweetheart. I will build us a home.”

If James wanted to raise an heir, then I would return to North Atlantis’s most powerful mafia family, take my rightful place as my father’s heir, and become the Godmother of the Mafia.

Back then, just to be with James Hill, I ignored all opposition from my family and married him under a false identity. My dad—the Don of the Gerald family in North Atlantis—saw how determined I was and made a wager with me. If, after five years of marriage, I wasn’t happy, I’d return home and inherit his position.

At that time, I had sworn to him that James would never let me lose. However, in the end, our love couldn’t even last five years, and now, I was packing to leave him.

[If you’re unhappy, don’t force it. I’ll always be waiting for you, and so will the family.]

Tears welled up as I read the message Dad had sent.

Just then, James came home. Seeing me in tears, he quickly pulled me into his arms. “Pia, it’s been a tough year for you. Why aren’t you asleep yet? Were you waiting for me?”

He didn’t know that on all those nights he “spent” with his sister-in-law, Hilary Cook, I never really slept. I always left a light on in the living room, listening for the sound of the door opening, hoping he’d come home.

Tonight, he came back earlier than usual, wearing fresh clothes. Even so, I saw the faint hickey marks on his chest.

Disgusted, I shoved him away. “Don’t touch me. You make me sick.”

His face instantly paled. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. After a long pause, he stepped forward again, trying to take my hand.

“Pia, I dreamed of my brother last night. He begged me to raise his child, and I promised him. I just hope you and our son, Xavier, can understand.”

I remembered that day, a year ago, at the funeral of his twin brother, Luke Hill. James had looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and said, “Pia, I have to pretend to be my dead brother. I need to protect Hilary and help her secure her position.”

Now, staring at him, I said quietly, “You don’t need me or Xavier. So why should we understand you?”

Just then, another message popped up on my phone.

[Tomorrow, the helicopter will take you and the boy away.]

James caught sight of the message. In a panic, he asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’m planning to take Xavier on a short trip,” I replied plainly.

“Alright,” he said. “Next time, when I have time, I’ll go with you.”

I locked my phone screen. The wallpaper showed a family photo of the three of us together. It was taken a year ago, on Xavier’s third birthday. James had canceled all his work that day and spent three hours that morning baking a cake by himself.

With one arm holding Xavier and another around my shoulder, he said, “Once I’ve fulfilled Luke’s last wish, I’ll take you both to the seaside for a month.”

Back then, his eyes were full of love for me and our child; now, his shirt smelled like Hilary’s perfume, and the hickey on his chest was barely covered. Even when he lied, he didn’t bother to look away. That promise from a year ago was nothing but empty words now.

My fingers brushed over the photo, and my heart felt like it was being ripped open. Some things had shattered quietly inside the web of his lies.

Then, a new message appeared on the screen. It was from Hilary.

“The baby’s awake. He’s crying and wants you to hold him.”

The moment James read it, he became so worried that even his voice trembled. “Did you call the doctor? Why is he crying all of a sudden?”

Before he could say more, he realized I was still sitting on the bed. He reached out to smooth my hair.

“Pia, I’ll be right back. Give me half an hour, okay? When I come back, we’ll talk properly.”

I watched his hurried silhouette as he left, and suddenly, I remembered he was the same way a year ago. Every time he came out of Hilary’s room, he’d say he was handling family business. However, he never noticed the lamp I left on every night in the living room, waiting for him to come home.

He never cared how I felt. He only needed me to stay quiet and to wait for him to “finish his duty” or “have the time”.

I forced a faint smile, my voice calm. “There’s no rush. Stay with them as long as you want.”

He didn’t catch the meaning in my tone. Before leaving, he even turned back and said,

“Wait for me. It won’t be long.”

He must have forgotten that when I was pregnant with Xavier, he was too busy with the family matters to attend even a single prenatal checkup. His decisive departure only made it easier for me to take our son and walk away without hesitation.

After all, the heir of the Gerald family in North Atlantis should never have to live in someone else’s lies, waiting for a promise that would never come true.

After James left, Dad called. He said the helicopter could arrive ahead of schedule to take us home.

Beside me, Xavier turned over in his sleep, mumbling softly, “Papa… you promised you’d blow out the candles with me…”

In just two days, it would be his birthday. He’d been counting down for an entire year, saying every night that his dad would come home to celebrate with him.

I reached out and gently stroked his sleeping face, my eyes burning with tears. I decided then that we’d wait two more days before leaving. At least then, Xavier wouldn’t leave this place with regrets.

Alas, everything fell apart that afternoon when Hilary suddenly claimed that her sapphire brooch, which was worth a fortune, had gone missing. She accused Xavier of stealing it and even produced his toy car as “evidence.”

The family elders summoned us to the main hall.

A servant stood there, clutching the toy car, crying hysterically. “It was him! I saw him hanging around the door yesterday. And today, the brooch is gone!”

Xavier went pale with fear and clutched my hand tightly.

“Ma, I didn’t steal anything!”

“I threw that toy car away a year ago!” I said quickly. “Someone must’ve planted it on purpose. He didn’t steal the brooch, I swear! He’s innocent, Don Hill.”

Everyone turned to look at James, waiting for him to speak. However, he only frowned, avoiding my eyes as he said to the elders, “Rules are rules. Since there’s evidence, we must follow them.”

Immediately, the elders ordered the guards to bring out a whip.

One of the elders said sharply, “A child who steals at this age must be disciplined before he brings shame to the family.”

Two bodyguards stepped forward to drag Xavier away.

I threw myself over him, shielding him with my body. “You can’t hit him! He’s being framed! Don Hill, please!”

James turned his face away. He didn’t say a single word. In the end, the guards pried us apart.

The first lash came down without mercy. Xavier’s small body trembled in pain, but he didn’t cry. By the third lash, however, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He screamed, voice breaking as he cried out toward James, “Papa! Help me!”

The word “Papa” carried all his pain, fear, and heartbreak. The entire hall went silent.

I thought James would finally soften, but instead, he said coldly, “Your father is dead. Calling for him won’t help.”

Looking at Xavier’s back, covered in red welts, and hearing his muffled sobs, I finally understood. To James, power and position mattered more than his own child’s life. He was no longer the man who once promised to bake a birthday cake with his son. He was nothing but a stranger devoured by power and greed.

For the next two days, Xavier grew silent and barely spoke. I thought we’d just wait quietly for the helicopter to come, but on the morning of his birthday, the estate was suddenly decorated with lights and ribbons. The living room was filled with mountains of gifts, and in the center stood a giant, three-tier cake topped with a spinning carousel.

I froze. Could it be James’s surprise for our son?

My boy’s eyes lit up as he grabbed my hand and ran toward the cake, his voice trembling with excitement.

“Ma, look! Papa made me a birthday cake! He remembered!”

For the first time in days, there was joy in his eyes again.

I led him to the cake and said softly, “Make a wish, sweetheart.”

He nodded earnestly, put his hands together, and closed his eyes. “I wish Papa could come home every day.”

Before I could even smile, a sharp, mocking voice sliced through the air.

“What are you doing here?”

Hilary appeared, cradling a baby in her arms, a scornful expression on her face. Behind her stood James, his expression empty.

“Today is my son’s one-month celebration,” James said flatly. “Who gave you permission to touch this cake?”

My mind went blank. So all of this was for her child, not ours.

Xavier trembled in shock as he called out to James, “Father…”

Around us, the guests began to whisper.

“Did that boy… call Don Hill his father?”

“Isn’t his father dead? Unless…”

Suspicious eyes darted between James and Xavier.

James let out a low, humorless laugh, then stared down at Xavier. “Did you forget? Today is your father’s death anniversary.”

My whole body went cold. I couldn’t believe the man standing in front of me was the same James I once loved.

Then, he gave his order. “Take him to the cemetery out back. Make him kneel there and pay his respects. Without my command, he doesn’t get up.”

The cemetery behind the estate was cold and damp. Without a care, the bodyguards dragged us, shoving us in front of a headstone. Xavier’s little hand trembled in mine, but he didn’t make a sound.

I had thought James would show some mercy by letting us go after an hour or two. However, we were forced to kneel through the entire night before he finally sent someone to say we could stop.

By midnight, Xavier ran a fever. I held him to my chest and understood, with a pain that burned deeper than before, just how cruel James could be.

When we returned to the estate, the quiet was ripped apart by the heavy staccato of gunfire. The bodyguards who had accompanied us dropped like flies, and I instinctively curled around Xavier.

Through the gunshots, Hilary’s scream cut like a knife. She was dragged out of the main hall, cradling the newborn in her arms, by a group of men in black. They then shoved the distraught Hilary, her child, Xavier, and me into a waiting car.

Later, in a dark warehouse, Hilary and I were tied to separate chairs. My son lay in my arms, while Hilary held her baby.

Hilary spat at the leader of the kidnappers. “Do you know who I am?”

The leader kicked an iron drum beside her. The clang echoed like thunder.

“Shut up!” he barked.

He stepped up, pinched Xavier’s chin, and dialed James on his phone. Then, he put the call on speaker.

“Don Hill, I have your woman and child, as well as your brother’s widow and son.” He glanced at a length of fuse coiled on the floor and continued, “The bomb goes off in ten minutes. You don’t have much time. You can only save two.”

Hilary screamed. “James! Save me! Save our child!”

I saw Xavier open his eyes, but he didn’t cry. He only listened, small and still.

On the other end, James’s breathing was heavy. A long, hollow three seconds passed before he spoke, flat and final.

“I choose Hilary and the child.”

The kidnapper snorted with delight and hung up.

Hilary’s wails cut off instantly, replaced by an ugly, triumphant laugh. I lowered my head and pressed a kiss to Xavier’s fever-hot forehead. Everything felt like it ended in that single, cold breath.

The kidnappers untied Hilary. As she carried her baby past me, she paused and leaned in close, so only I could hear.

“Pia,” she whispered, “you lost. You were never my match.”

I simply ignored her.

After Hilary left, the leader came back to us. “Since Don Hill has chosen, you’re useless to us now.”

He then lit the fuse and left, the glowing red string slithering across the floor to us like a hungry snake.

Just as my heart dropped into a pit, gunshots and screams roared from outside. The warehouse doors were kicked open.

Men in black riot gear, with my family’s black hawk insignia stitched across their chests, stormed in. At their head was Dad’s most trusted underboss, Kane Lee.

He quickly made his way to me, cut the ropes at my wrists, and dropped to one knee. “Principessa, I’m sorry you were frightened. Don Gerald has ordered me to bring you and the young sir home.”

I clung to Xavier in my arms as Kane and my family shepherded us out of that living hell.

As the helicopter blades thudded overhead, I cast one last look at the rising smoke and thought, ‘James, from now on, we would never meet again.’

When James finally burst into the warehouse, all he found was fire and black smoke. The flames painted his face in angry orange, and his eyes reddened.

“Find out who did this,” he told his men, voice hoarse. “I want them to pay.”