Realization dawned on me then.

Everyone here knew I wasn't some useless, thieving janitor, but they simply didn't care. This wasn't a meeting to discuss rules and regulations either. It was a political trap set specifically for me.

Elena wanted to force me out so she could take my place, while Matteo wanted my shares before Gotti Group went public, and the other members simply wanted a share of the spoils.

If that was the case, I didn't mind playing along for their amusement.

"Fine. 350,000 dollars, sì? I'll pay."

I pulled out a bank card.

"This account holds every dividend Gotti Group has ever paid me. In five years, the company went from nothing to an arms dealer about to go public. The profits and dividends should be more than 350,000 dollars, shouldn't they?

"Didn't Elena say I live on the pittance you give me? Then check it and see if I have ever spent a single cent from it!"

The color drained from Matteo's face in an instant.

A busybody snatched my card to run a check, discovering that even the password was still set to the factory default.

"Is this Valentina's first time logging into this account? How is that possible?"

I smiled.

I was the Donna behind the Caruso family. I controlled 80% of San Vestaro's commercial territory and ports. The annual profits of one small-time arms dealer meant nothing to me, and the dividends meant even less.

However, once the inquiry page loaded, everyone was shocked.

The balance was a big, glaring zero.

My brows pulled together.

"Ha, zero! And here I thought you were so noble! You spent every single cent of the dividends in the account, yet you still brag about paying us back! You have a massive problem, Valentina. And you're still being so stubborn! You deserve to be kicked out!"

Elena, believing she had caught me red-handed, mocked me relentlessly, not realizing that every word out of her mouth was about to become leverage against Matteo.

"I'd love to know exactly who has a problem here," I sneered, looking directly at Matteo, whose face had gone deathly pale. "Matteo, since you took over, the group's debts have been paid off, and net profit has risen every year. So, where are my dividends?"

Matteo swallowed hard.

"We're in the arms business. The profits may look good on paper, but behind the scenes, the expenses to smooth things over with the politicians and other families are even higher. We've been losing money every year. Dividends were out of the question!"

I nearly laughed.

Politicians and other families?

Had they not agreed to work with the Gotti family precisely because they knew my identity and status? Since when did he ever need to spend money to grease their palms?

Realizing I had gone silent, Matteo instantly put on a smile, feigning comfort.

"Don't worry, Valentina. I know you can't pay the money back. Just surrender your shares to give our partners an explanation. Once we go public, I'll restore your reputation and your position."

He handed me a share transfer agreement. "Until then, just focus on watering the flowers and wiping down the piano. Leave the orders to me, and the trivial matters to Elena."

"Fine."

I slowly stood and nodded calmly. "Since you care so much about your partners and going public, I'll agree to your terms."

A flicker of greed and delight flashed across Matteo's and Elena's eyes.

I looked at the wisteria, remembering another piece of advice Madre had once told me.

She said that when dealing with the ungrateful who didn't know their own limitations, one must be ruthless.

"I hope…" I began with a smile as I signed the agreement and handed it over. "You get exactly what you want."

…

The next morning, I came to the garden as usual to care for the wisteria Madre had left behind and wipe down the piano.

Elena, dressed in a Chanel suit, strode in arrogantly on high heels, followed by several renovation workers.

"Look at these outdated, overpriced rugs and decorations. This, this, and this. Rip them all out!"

She pointed at the main entrance, the corridor, and the reception parlor that I had painstakingly arranged, her eyebrows furrowing in disgust.

"We're about to secure the shipping permit for the largest port in the city. Every capo will be lining up to place orders with us. The reception parlor needs to be simple, clean, and efficient. It should look like a major corporation, not some yacht club from the 90s!"

The members all crowded around, showering Elena with praise and agreement.

"The largest port in San Vestaro? As expected of a top business school graduate. You've pulled off something massive the moment you arrived!"

"Once we get that shipping permit, our profits will multiply several times over. We'll be able to go public in no time!"

I let out a scoff, ignoring them as I continued watering the flowers.

"Of course," Elena said.

She arched an eyebrow at me, walking over to the piano with her arms crossed, a look of pure defiance on her face.

"Once we go public, every corner of this place will need to be cleaned up. All the old, useless garbage will be thrown right out! Especially that outdated plant and this crappy piano!"

I stopped what I was doing, lifted my head, and looked at her coldly.

"Try me."

Elena seemed startled, freezing for a few seconds before remembering to turn and leave. As she stormed off, she even pulled out her phone and filmed a vlog.

"First day on the promotion, and I already cleaned out a bunch of trash! So exhausting! Here's to hoping hard work pays off with good results! #FemaleVP #GirlPower #MajorOverhaul."

Five minutes later, I laughed at her new Instagram post before making a call.

"Stop the issuance of Gotti Group's shipping permit."

I didn't allow fools to dock at my port, and I certainly hoped Elena would enjoy the results of all her hard work.

A week later, Matteo still hadn't received the shipping permit, and his anxiety was starting to show. Worse, he couldn't figure out what had gone wrong.

He sat in his office, completely at his wits' end.

"Don't worry. It's probably just some minor delay. The permit should come through any day now. You can place the order first—Damn it! They hung up again."

The permit wasn't the only thing that had disappeared. All those newly secured orders were gone, too.

With no other choice, Matteo spent a fortune trying to win over the Capos of several small crews.

After that, he finally managed to invite their Bosses to the company for a meeting, hoping to close a deal and clear out the inventory.

However, the two guests were infuriated and stormed out less than half an hour after arriving, jabbing Matteo in the chest and roaring as they walked, "What the hell is that? A pigeon coop? You expect me to sit in there and talk business?"

"Sandwiches? What do you take me for, some guy in a prison cafeteria? I don't feel a shred of respect from you people!"

Elena, who had handled the reception, received a brutal tongue-lashing from Matteo afterward.

But how would she have known?

Most of those Bosses came from respected families. Tasteful decor, expensive rugs, and black leather couches were the bare minimum when hosting them.

Unfortunately, Elena had removed all of that because she thought it looked like a yacht club.

Worse still, her new cost-cutting purchasing plan had replaced fine wines and cheese boards with sandwiches and coffee.

"Put everything back the way it was, now!"

Matteo's furious voice echoed all the way down the long corridor. "Our biggest long-term client is coming soon to place an order. We can't afford another mistake. If we drop the ball on this, all our business goes with it!"

When Elena finally emerged from the office, her eyes were rimmed with red. The moment she met my gaze, however, she instantly resumed her usual haughty demeanor.

"You used to handle the arrangements for Mr. Vitale's visits, didn't you? He's our most important client, and he's due for the routine meeting in a few days. Tell me what he likes."

Alessandro Vitale?

I laughed inwardly.

"Mr. Vitale is important, sì. He's a wine expert, and his favorite is 1985 Romanée-Conti. He doesn't leave without polishing off half a bottle."

Elena's eyes lit up, and she immediately pulled up an online wine store. The moment she saw the price tag, the color drained from her face.

"Tens of thousands of dollars for a single bottle?"

That was clearly far beyond her purchasing plan's budget.

I let out an icy chuckle. "Well, you have to spend money to make money, don't you?"

Elena ground her teeth. Steeling her resolve, she aggressively tapped the purchase button.

I hadn't lied.

Alessandro did love Romanée-Conti. Without a glass of it in hand, he simply wouldn't sit at a negotiation table.

What I had conveniently omitted, however, was that Alessandra and I went way back, and I had helped him more than once. He worked with us only because he wanted to repay a favor.

With the order confirmed, Elena cast a smug look in my direction.

"Perfect. Looks like I can handle our biggest client just fine. Since you've actually been helpful for once, I might just throw you a bone when Mr. Vitale arrives. Maybe he'll convince Mr. Gotti to bump you up from a mere janitor to an errand girl."

I shrugged, ignored her taunt, and kept wiping down the piano.

That afternoon, Elena walked out of the office with a triumphant look on her face to announce her grand news.

"Mr. Vitale loved the gift I prepared for him. Not only is this year's deal locked in, but next year's deal is secured as well! Everyone, stop what you're doing and come celebrate with me. I booked us a table at the most expensive restaurant in town."

The entire room erupted into cheers. They brushed past me and headed for the parking lot as if I weren't even there.

Matteo and Elena were the last to leave.

"Valentina, why are you wiping the piano again?" Matteo asked, a fake smile curling at the edges of his lips. "Even though you didn't contribute anything, you're still welcome to come and celebrate with us!"

Just then, Elena let out a loud, theatrical gasp. "Oh, dear! I completely forgot to reserve a seat for the janitor. Mi dispiace, Mr. Gotti. I prepared everything according to the employee handbook."

"Oh, that's a shame," Matteo said, pretending to sound regretful, but the smugness in his eyes gave him away.

I watched them leave, a sneer playing on my lips.

It was no shame at all. After all, this would be their very last celebration.

…

The next day, Elena had the reception parlor decorated like a private lounge at a jockey club.

Every single piece of decoration I had left behind, that she had discarded, had been salvaged and brought back inside.

To top it off, she had dropped over a hundred thousand dollars on antique vases and oil paintings.

At the center of the lavish dining table sat a bottle of 1985 Romanée-Conti and a cheese board.

They had clearly prepared everything they could for Alessandro's arrival.

But their distinguished guest never showed up. What arrived instead was an email informing them that the partnership had been terminated.

"What?"

Clad in an expensive suit, Matteo froze the moment he saw the email. Then, he dragged me out of the garden and into the conference room.

"Mr. Vitale terminated the partnership without a reason. You were the one who always handled his account. What the hell is going on here?"

I shrugged. "Didn't you appoint Elena to take over my responsibilities? She was the one coordinating with Alessandro. You should be asking her."

Speechless with rage, Matteo whipped around to face Elena.

Elena, whoever, suddenly broke down and jabbed an accusing finger at me, shouting, "It was you! You must've sabotaged this! You lied to me about Mr. Vitale loving that wine! You made me spend a fortune on those decorations and gifts! Now that he's a no-show, you need to take responsibility for this!"

Matteo immediately chimed in, That's right, Valentina. Elena prepared everything according to what you told her. You're responsible for bringing Mr. Vitale here. Quick, contact him right this instant!"

"Matteo, you were the one who said I should just focus on watering the flowers and wiping down the piano until the company went public, all to satisfy your business partners. How can I overstep my bounds and do Elena's job?"

"You—"

Matteo was choked with fury, his expression darkening. "If we lose Mr. Vitale's order, we're finished. You hold a stake in this company, too. If it sinks into debt and goes bankrupt, you won't be escaping the fallout!"

I looked him dead in the eye and smiled. "But I already transferred all of my shares to you. What does your company's bankruptcy have to do with me?"