For three days, I locked myself in the study, my fingers flying across the keyboard. Three years.

It had been three years since I'd touched this equipment, but the muscle memory hadn't faded.

I had to get into the Outfit's secure servers and find all the surveillance footage from the night of Salvatore's death.

[ACCESS DENIED.]

The cold, red warning flashed on the screen.

I frowned and switched to a backup port. Still no entry.

My heart sank. The firewall architecture, the encryption methods, the hidden security questions... I had taught him all of it.

Of course. My own husband had used my lessons against me.

The system's alarm blared, locking my terminal completely.

Raphael followed the sound of the alarm, his deep-set eyes finding me.

"Enough, Catherine."

"You have a choice. Accept Chiara's apology, or continue this charade and humiliate yourself in front of the entire city."

"You think," I looked up, incredulous, "that I'm the madwoman?"

"I just want you to be calm," he said, his tone softening at my cold expression, as if he were coaxing a child.

"Chiara was a wreck last night, couldn't sleep. She's consumed by guilt. We shouldn't make this any harder for her."

I stood up, meeting his gaze. "What exactly do you want me to be calm about? Do you have any idea who she really is?"

In the Leone family, no one knew Chiara better than I did.

My parents took her in after finding her on the streets, beaten by her deadbeat father. They raised her, gave her a home.

My brother Salvatore eventually gave her a job in one of our front businesses.

I was happy to have another sister, until I saw the truth with my own eyes two years ago.

I saw the real Chiara. Her face was a mask of malice as she tore a fistful of hair from a new girl's scalp, screaming, "Go ahead and tattle! Let's see who the Leone family believes!"

That night, I told Raphael and Luca what had happened. And what was their reaction?

"Catherine, are you sure?" Raphael had frowned. "Chiara has always been so gentle."

"But I saw it myself," I tried to explain.

"She must have had her reasons," Luca said, his voice calm. "Think about where she comes from, Catherine. Life hasn't been easy for her. You can't expect her to act like you."

The next day, Chiara came to me in tears.

"Miss Catherine, I couldn't sleep all night. I know what I did was wrong, but I didn't mean it…"

She knelt before me, tears tracing paths down her cheeks.

"I've been looked down on my whole life, so when I heard those words, I just lost control. Please, forgive me just this once."

Raphael and Luca witnessed the scene.

"Catherine, let it go," Raphael said, helping Chiara to her feet. "She knows she was wrong."

Luca nodded. "It doesn't hurt to show a little compassion to a girl who's had a hard life."

From that day on, whenever I mentioned Chiara's strange behavior, they told me I was overreacting.

And even now, all they could say was "be calm."

From the very beginning, no one had ever believed me.

As the thought crossed my mind, a familiar, terrifying smell of smoke flooded my nostrils.

I covered my mouth, coughing violently as the charred scent coiled in my lungs like a viper.

I fought to control my breathing, telling myself it was just a phantom smell.

But my body's reaction was terrifyingly real. The heavy, suffocating sensation threw me back to that hellish night.

Three years ago, we'd fallen into a trap set by a rival family, caught in a fire at an abandoned warehouse.

Raphael and Luca were knocked unconscious instantly, pinned by collapsed steel beams. It was Salvatore and I who charged into the inferno and dragged them out.

And Chiara?

She stood in a safe zone, covering her nose, complaining that the smoke would stain her white dress. As my brother and I risked our lives in the flames, she didn't lift a finger.

That fire nearly killed Salvatore and me. His left arm was badly burned, the muscle damaged.

And that fire left me with a ghost in my lungs: phantosmia.

Whenever I'm under extreme stress, I smell smoke that isn't there. Only I knew the agony of waking up in the middle of the night, choking for air.

But Chiara, with that faint scar on her cheek, had stolen the credit we'd paid for in blood.

I never dreamed Raphael would condemn us to hell over a debt that was a lie.

Raphael noticed my distress and moved to hold me, but I tore myself away, stumbling into the hallway.

"My brother was stabbed twenty-seven times. I'm not stopping the investigation."

I walked away, my body trembling. I had sworn I would not let my brother die in vain.

"Catherine," Raphael said, his voice grave. "If you insist on this, you know there will be consequences."

But I never imagined that overnight, Raphael and Luca would manage to turn black into white.

They falsified, destroyed, or buried every piece of evidence. They painted my brother as a monster, and his killer, a junkie, as a hero acting in righteous rage.

And Chiara's addict father became a hero who had righteously killed a rapist.

Rival families descended like hyenas smelling blood.

They began to cannibalize every inch of Leone territory, swallowing our business at the docks piece by piece.

Someone even had the audacity to leave a bullet on my parents' grave, a blatant challenge to the Leone family's authority.

Street punks started whispering that Salvatore Leone was nothing but a degenerate who colluded with drug dealers.

The businessmen who once bowed to our family now wouldn't even answer our calls. The empire our family had spent decades building crumbled overnight.

Staring at the bloody reality of this betrayal, my legs began to tremble uncontrollably.

Raphael and Luca were nothing more than two stray dogs my father had taken in from the streets.

We gave them food, shelter, and even seats of power in our family. For years, these two vipers had played their parts perfectly in front of me, all while secretly using our resources to build their own power base.

Now, their true faces were revealed. I was just prey in their carefully laid trap.

My phone buzzed. Raphael's low voice purred on the other end. "My dear Catherine, have you learned your lesson yet?"

I didn't have the strength to argue with him anymore. I hung up the phone.

But Raphael's words still hung in the air.

How I made it back to the bedroom, I don't know.

Salvatore's death, the family's ruined reputation, the sneering faces of those who once groveled before us. The weight of it all was suffocating me.

The moment the door clicked shut, Raphael pushed it open.

I turned, my eyes filled with despair. "We're here, Raphael. What more could you possibly want from me?"

"Luca has already arranged it with the mayor. Tomorrow, City Hall is holding a public commendation ceremony for Marco."

"And you, as Salvatore's sister, will be there. You will bow deeply and apologize to Chiara and her father. In front of the entire city."

"You will admit that Salvatore was a traitor who colluded with drug dealers and died in a feud."

Raphael closed the distance between us, his fingers tracing the tear tracks on my cheek with a touch as gentle as a caress.

"Of course, my little wildcat, you could always choose to defy me. After all, you're not Salvatore's only living blood relative, are you?"

He pulled out his phone and brought up a security feed from a nursing home.

The old man on the screen was my grandfather, once the most respected old Don in the entire Chicago underworld.

After Salvatore's death, what was left of his health simply gave out. He now survived on a respirator and IV drips.

Even so, his trembling hands clutched a gilded music box. He was mumbling, over and over, "This is a birthday present for my little princess, Catherine…"

I clenched my fists, trying to hold it back, but the tears fell anyway.

After my brother's death, my grandfather was the only family I had left.

And the man standing before me, the man I once thought would protect me for my entire life, was now using my only remaining family to threaten me.

"See? The old Don is sleeping soundly," Raphael murmured, each word a crushing weight.

"But if you don't cooperate… I can't guarantee the security system at the nursing home will keep working for long."

"You're a monster." I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist in a vise-like grip.

He pinned my shoulder with one hand and seized my chin with the other, forcing my head up to look into his dark green eyes.

His voice was a low taunt. "Is my little princess this fragile? Can't handle a little pressure?"

"Now, tell me," he hissed.

"What will it be tomorrow? Will your grandfather pay for your defiance from his hospital bed? Or will you be the one apologizing to Chiara in front of the whole city?"

My grandfather was my last reason to live. I had to keep him safe.

"I'll do it," I forced the humiliating words past my lips. "I'll go."

Hearing this, Raphael pulled my near-limp body into his arms, stroking my hair.

For a split second, it almost felt like he truly loved me.

"That's my good girl."

"After it's over tomorrow, we'll go see Grandfather together. We'll put the old man's mind at ease."

The next day, the ceremony at City Hall began.

I stood there like a soulless puppet as Raphael and Luca forced me to publicly apologize to Chiara.

To offer my blessings to the junkie who had killed my brother.

The audience was filled not only with ordinary citizens but with representatives from every family.

Their greedy eyes were fixed on me, waiting for the Leone family to finally collapse so they could carve up our territory.

The reporters' questions were sharks in the water, each one more vicious than the last:

"Is it true, Miss Leone, that Salvatore Leone was privately involved in the drug trade? Were you aware of this?"

"An anonymous source claims Salvatore Leone was facing accusations of rape and murder. Is this true?"

"Do you have any comment on the Leone family's financial crisis and the money laundering scandal?"

The flashbulbs were like punches, blinding me with every pop.

The street thugs who ran with Chiara's father whistled lewdly.

"I hear she gets around. Not so pure, that one."

"Look at that dress. Her brother's barely cold, and she's already dressed like a whore. Bet she can't go a night without a man."

I trembled with a rage so pure I wanted to leap off the stage and tear their tongues from their mouths.

But in the next second, Raphael's hand clamped down on my shoulder, and he flashed his phone in front of my eyes, showing the live feed from the nursing home.

I had no choice but to swallow my fury.

Seeing me sway, Chiara moved to "support" me, her fingers digging into my arm like talons.

She leaned in, her voice a triumphant whisper in my ear. "See? A single scar on the right girl is worth more than a princess."

"You were always the spoiled princess. But Raphael and Luca... they have a soft spot for the damsel in distress."

I slowly turned my head, meeting her defiant gaze. "What do you want?" I ground out through my teeth.

"I want…" Chiara's smile was angelic, but her eyes were glacial. "I want you to know that you've lost. And I've won. Everything."

With that, she turned, "accidentally" shoving me. I lost my balance and pitched forward, tumbling down the steps.

The moment I hit the ground, a searing, tearing pain shot through my abdomen.

The crowd swarmed, their jeers turning into a roar:

"Look, she fell! Hahaha!"

"Serves her right! Karma's a bitch, why didn't she break her neck!"

"Trash like that deserves a beating!"

In an instant, the thin line of security broke, and the angry mob surged forward, raining kicks and blows on me.

A warm wetness spread down my thigh, and my blood ran cold. I knew.

It was the secret I'd been keeping. The child I never got to tell him about. The one thing I thought was still ours.

No! Please, no…

"Raphael, Luca, help me…"

"It's our baby…"

But my voice was drowned out by the curses of the crowd.

The last thing I saw before darkness took me was Raphael and Luca, shielding a "frightened" Chiara as they pushed their way out of the mob.

Lying in a pool of my own blood, one hand desperately clutching my stomach, I made a silent vow, each word a shard of ice in my heart.

Raphael Falcone. You will regret this. I will make you.

The beating only stopped when someone in the crowd shouted, pointing at the blood soaking through my skirt.

They scattered in a panic, as if they'd seen a ghost, leaving two unfortunate city workers to nervously call an ambulance.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness on the stretcher.

"Her blood pressure is dropping!" the paramedic shouted. "We need a transfusion, now!"

The ambulance screeched to a halt in front of the Leone family's private clinic. This was supposed to be my safe harbor, a sanctuary for any family member who was hurt.

But when the stretcher was pulled from the ambulance, three bodyguards in black suits blocked the entrance.

"Sorry, the clinic's booked solid today."

The lead guard blocked our path, his hand drifting toward the butt of the gun on his hip.

"Miss Chiara is being treated for shock. No one is to disturb her. Understood?"

The sharp pain in my abdomen made it almost impossible to breathe. Warm blood was still flowing from between my legs, soaking the white emergency blanket.

"What do you mean?" the paramedic demanded, pushing at the guard. "This is an emergency! The patient needs surgery immediately!"

The guard's eyes swept over me as if I were a corpse. "Listen, pal," he said, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. "Let me spell it out for you."

"This clinic answers to Falcone and Vizzini now. We take our orders from them, and them alone."

"So get the hell out of here if you want to live. Don't make me get serious."

I floated between a haze and clarity, hearing the argument outside. For the tiny life inside me which was the only hope I had left, I used my last ounce of strength to shakily dial Raphael's number.

"I did the humiliating things you asked of me."

"Now I'm hurt, right outside the clinic. If you still want this child, you'll let me in."

"Catherine, enough," Raphael's voice was laced with impatience, as if I were a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. "You'd really stoop to this? Lying about a miscarriage just to guilt-trip me?"

"Chiara is traumatized and needs the best care, and you pull a stunt like this to steal the spotlight? Claiming you're having a miscarriage? That's not just ridiculous, Catherine. It's pathetic."

"What?" The blood in my veins turned to ice. "You think I'm lying?"

"You can't be pregnant. We haven't slept together in three months," he said, his tone a death sentence. "Don't use these tricks to get sympathy."

"Be good. We're settling a debt. An honorable one. Once it's paid in blood, Luca and I will be back. We'll rebuild the Leone empire."

"You're still our most precious princess."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He had hung up on me.

My last thread of consciousness snapped. I passed out completely.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a dingy public hospital room that reeked of disinfectant.

It was a world away from the family's private clinic. The walls were peeling, the sheets were yellowed, and the air was thick with the sharp smell of cheap antiseptic.

The old butler, Mario, sat vigil in the room's only chair. His face was a roadmap of wrinkles, his kind eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

In this world of betrayal, he was one of the few who still remembered old loyalties.

"Miss Catherine, you're awake," he said, his voice hoarse. He helped me sit up and handed me a glass of water.

"Mario…" My voice was barely a whisper. "The baby…"

"The doctor said you miscarried," he said, gently stroking my hand. His calloused hands were warm. "It's all my fault. I should have protected you."

I closed my eyes as tears slid silently down my cheeks. The little life I never had the chance to announce to the world was gone, vanished in a pool of blood.

Maybe it was for the best. He wouldn't have to come into this world and suffer with me.

"There's something else…" Mario hesitated, his voice trembling like a leaf in autumn. "The old Don passed away early this morning."

The old man, who had served my grandfather for forty years, had tears welling in his eyes.

In that moment, my world stopped spinning.

"What?"

"The nursing home said the old Don got agitated last evening and had a heart attack."

Mario's tone suddenly filled with rage. "I found these in his room. Photos of you... of the mob beating you. Catherine, the Don's death was no accident."

"A nurse told me Chiara was the last person to see him."

The blood in my veins froze solid.

Mario's words were a torrent of information, but all I could hear was that my grandfather was gone.

My last family, the only person in the world who truly loved me, was gone. Murdered. Murdered by that venomous bitch.

"But…" Mario pulled a vintage cigar box from inside his black overcoat. "Before he died, the old Don asked a nurse to give this to you."

The cigar box was heavy, engraved with the Leone family crest: a soaring eagle with an olive branch and a sword in its talons.

With trembling hands, I opened it. Inside, alongside a few priceless Cuban cigars, was a yellowed slip of paper.

Written in my grandfather's strong hand was a single line:

"My little princess, if you need true protection, find the box's secret compartment. Your blood will not be spilled in vain. This is my final play."

Even in the face of death, my grandfather was still looking out for me, still paving a way forward.

My tears finally broke through, and I began to sob.

My grandfather's funeral was held in the Leone family's private chapel.

Raphael and Luca didn't even send a wreath.

I stood alone, facing the representatives of the Five Families, handling all the grim arrangements by myself.

Late that night, I sat before my grandfather's enormous portrait and carefully opened the cigar box's hidden compartment.

Inside, three items were neatly arranged:

A divorce agreement written on the most expensive vellum, needing only my signature to take effect.

A bearer check from a Swiss bank for one hundred million dollars.

And a mysterious phone number, traced over and over with an old Italian fountain pen.

I dialed the number, my fingers shaking.

The phone rang three times before it was answered.

"This is Catherine Leone."

There was a dead silence on the other end.

Then, I heard a deep, authoritative male voice with a heavy Sicilian accent. I could feel his presence, a crushing weight, even through the phone.

"Catherine, my Principessa. I have been waiting for this call."

"Who is this?"

"Lorenzo Gallo. An old friend of the Leone family."

"I've heard about what has happened recently." The voice on the other end of the line turned cold, like a wind from Siberia.

"If they dared to touch a single hair on your head, they should have been bled dry for it."