Giovanni's convoy roared out of Rossi Estate.

My phone buzzed, and the screen lit up with a message from Giovanni. "Clear out your things tonight. All locks and codes will be changed in a week."

I didn't reply.

Silently, I began erasing every trace of myself from the villa I'd lived in for seven years. From the haute couture gown he'd given me to the ivory-handled pistol he'd engraved by hand for my birthday last year.

I packed up every memory and tossed it in the trash.

My phone lit up again.

Giovanni's last message sounded like a dignified closing to our relationship. "If you run into trouble, contact Antonio. I can't give you the title of wife, but you'll have a Don's protection."

I stared at that last line and laughed.

I'd been by his side for ten years, taking knives for him and firing guns for him. Now that he'd made it to the top, all he offered me was condescending "protection".

The typhoon's storm delayed all flights. I couldn't leave, and I couldn't sleep. I woke in the dead of night and smoked one cigarette after another.

The smoke blurred my vision but sharpened my memories.

The year I met Giovanni, he was still the unrecognized illegitimate son of the family. I was 19 years old, fresh out of home. My wallet was stolen, and I was nearly dragged into an alley. He saved me with his fists.

I fell in love at first sight and stubbornly followed him three streets down.

He sneered at the prestigious academy uniform I was wearing. "Signorina, I don't even know if I'll be alive tomorrow. Why do you love me? Go home and hug your doll to sleep. We're not from the same world. There's no future between us."

Back then, I was both innocent and stubborn. Once I set my sights on him, I wouldn't let go.

Amid his stunned stare, I rose onto my tiptoes and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips.

"I don't care about a future with you. I only want you."

That night, we made our first promise to each other.

After that, I followed Giovanni, climbing out step by step. While he fought for territory, I patched his wounds. While he dealt with traitors, I kept watch and ran errands.

Countless nights, we became each other's only salvation, clinging to one another like life depended on it.

Between labored breaths, he promised over and over, "Serena, once I become the Don, the first thing I'll do is marry you."

Now that he was the Don, the first thing he did was erase me from his life.

I wasn't naive anymore. I wouldn't waste myself on someone unworthy.

My phone buzzed again, but this time, it wasn't another message from Giovanni.

"The engagement still stands. Welcome home, my Donna."

Seeing that, I deleted every photo and chat history with Giovanni.

I picked up the suitcase I had already packed and held the keys in my hand.

By the time I opened the door, the rain had stopped.

I didn't look back.

Giovanni was right. Arvandor was a good place. That was where my home was.

It was where the man who had waited for me for years—now the Don of the most powerful mafia family—stood waiting.

And where a wedding long overdue was meant to take place.

I held the keys and the access card to the family archives and headed to the Rossi family headquarters.

In no mood for dressing up, I simply wore a white dress.

When I pushed open the door, the usual greetings were gone. Those who once called me "Donna" now fell silent, as if by unspoken agreement.

But whispers still reached my ears.

"She still suits Don Rossi best. Ten years, and she's been the only one by his side…"

"Hah! You don't get it. You need a crutch only when you have a broken leg. First thing you do when it heals? You throw it away. Seeing it reminds you of when you couldn't stand!"

I forced a small, bitter smile.

Ten years with Giovanni, and no one had ever dared speak to me like that.

A business partner had dared to touch my hand once. The very next day, Giovanni had his fingers cut off.

If I frowned, he would drop every meeting just to calm me.

All the privileges that came with being favored had now turned into jokes.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed. A shot ripped through the air, grazing the scalp of the one who'd used the crutch metaphor.

Giovanni's expression darkened as he lowered the gun.

"What's going on?" he asked coldly. "I'm gone for a moment, and this place turns into a gossip market? Anyone who didn't know might think Serena Bianchi is your Donna!"

The council room went dead silent.

This was Giovanni's power. But now, that power was pointed at me.

I opened my mouth to bring up leaving, but Lisa poked her head from behind Giovanni and timidly asked, "Giovanni, is this Serena you were talking about?"

She sized me up with feigned innocence, then gasped and covered her mouth. "Oddio! Serena's outfit today… Is she trying to copy me?"

Same white dress and bare face. Her eyes—especially—carried a 60% resemblance to mine when I was 19 years old.

A flicker of doubt crossed Giovanni's eyes as he looked at me. "Serena, did you run a background check on Lisa?"

I was so disappointed in him that I didn't want to talk to him.

When I stayed silent, his doubtful gaze shifted into a mocking sneer. "No matter how much you copy, you're not 19 anymore. If you're leaving, just leave. What's the point of playing these little tricks with me?"

What did he just say?

"Actually, it's fine you're here. Saves me the trouble of looking for you." He pulled out a checkbook, tore a blank check, and tossed it my way.

"Name your price for your ten years of youth."

As I stared at the blank check and his arrogant expression, my mind went utterly blank.

"Giovanni," I called out in a trembling voice. "Say that again."

He put his hands in his pockets and replied, "I said, I'm buying out your last ten years. Plus a little hush money."

Lisa grabbed his sleeve. "Don't do that. You're treating her like some mistress you're just brushing off. Serena has dignity, too."

Giovanni gently pinched her cheek. "I have to take care of this now. That way, no one will whisper behind your back, and you won't get hurt."

Such familiar words. He used to protect me like this.

My stomach churned.

I lowered my gaze to the silver ring on my finger. When I first put it on, it fit perfectly. But over the years, as Giovanni's power grew, his heart drifted farther away.

The ring had dulled along with whatever tiny thread of us remained.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, only calm remained in my expression.

Under Giovanni's casual gaze, I tore the check to shreds. "Giovanni Rossi, you can't afford my ten years of youth, and I don't need you to pay for it."

I lifted my left hand and yanked the ring off with force.

His expression changed instantly.

The pain of yanking off the ring brought back a foggy memory from our third year together.

Giovanni had just secured his place in the family when the deadliest betrayal struck.

I took a knife meant for him. The wound got infected, and my fever wouldn't break. I was awake for barely ten minutes a day. Yet every time, he was there.

"Giovanni," I murmured weakly through the haze, "if I die, don't be sad. Don't drink so much. Eat on time…"

"Shut up!" The normally composed man suddenly erupted in fury.

His eyes were bloodshot. "Don't you dare die!"

That was the first and only time I saw him cry.

Even though he shouldn't have risked it, he stormed into the traitor's hideout with his men, getting seriously hurt himself.

I scolded him for being reckless, but through the pain, he shakily slipped a ring onto my finger. "You shouldn't bleed alone."

"What's this?"

"An engagement ring."

He kissed my finger. "Wear it all the time. Anyone who sees it will know you're mine."

Later, I learned it was forged from his mother's cross—the lucky charm he'd worn since childhood.

He kissed me with devotion and whispered, "If God only watches over one person, I pray it's your safety."

That ring stayed on my hand for seven years.

I gritted my teeth and yanked at the stubborn ring lodged on my knuckle. It hurt, but it felt freeing.

"Serena Bianchi! What are you doing?" Giovanni demanded sharply, unaware that the cigarette tip was burning his fingers.

Blood from my hand slicked the ring free.

I raised my hand and smashed it into his face. "Your love is worthless, just like you. Take back your ring. I find it dirty."

The ring left a streak of blood across his face and clattered at his feet.

Furious, he roared, "You think this will provoke me? Make me regret it? Stop the act! Go to Arvandor as I told you! That's your best ending! Without me, you're nothing!"

Without looking back, I turned and walked away.

The rain started again.

Giovanni seemed to yell something again, and hurried footsteps sounded behind me, though I couldn't make out his words.

Rain soon drenched my white dress, pressing the cold fabric against my skin. I kept moving forward, prepared to be soaked through.

Suddenly, beams of headlights cut through the downpour. A convoy of Maybachs roared up.

The man leading them jumped out of a car, holding a black umbrella over my head.

Amid the shocked gasps of everyone around, I was pulled into a warm, dry embrace.

"Don Rossi, you might want to take care of your own business first," the man said, his voice low and commanding. "I will take care of my fiancee."