Chapter 3

Sophia was even more impatient than I had imagined. Once her money was cut off, she actually smuggled herself and the child into New York.

Luca hid them in an old apartment in Brooklyn. It was a rundown place he had bought years ago, back before he married into the Corleone family and when he was still nobody.

“Victoria, I’ve got an important business dinner tonight. I won’t be home.” He adjusted his tie in front of the mirror as he lied, not daring to meet my eyes.

In the past, I would’ve reminded him to drink less and to come home early. Now, I just found it laughable.

I stepped forward and straightened his collar for him, my fingers brushing over his carotid artery. Beneath my fingertips, his pulse beat steady and strong. However, I knew that his heart no longer belonged to me.

“Go ahead,” I said evenly. “Don’t drink too much.”

The moment he walked out the door, I changed into a long black trench coat. The dark fabric wrapped around me, sealing in every trace of emotion. Uncle Rocco was already waiting. The black sedan sat quietly in the courtyard.

Rocco had been my father’s most loyal underboss since they were young. He’d followed him through gunfire and bloodshed for half his life. He only recognized the Corleone name, answered to my father, and protected only me.

As for Luca? In Rocco’s eyes, he was nothing more than an outsider who climbed up through marriage. Luca was not worthy of his attention.

“Principessa, are you sure you want to go in person?” Rocco asked, polishing the revolver that had accompanied him for decades. His voice carried the firm protectiveness of a man guarding his own blood. “That kind of place will dirty your shoes.”

“Some shows are only worth watching if you see them live,” I replied calmly, my eyes devoid of warmth.

The Brooklyn apartment had terrible soundproofing. The thin door couldn’t block the chaos inside. I stood outside and heard every word clearly.

“This is the luxury home you promised? Luca, there are rats here! Antonio was scared to tears!”

Sophia’s voice was sharp and shrill. There was no trace of the fragile, traumatized woman everyone talked about, but only greed and bitterness.

“Just endure it! Endure it!” Luca snapped, exhaustion and irritation bleeding into his voice. “Victoria’s watching everything closely right now. Do you know how ruthless her father is? If she finds out, we’re finished!”

“I don’t care! I want a big house! I want to shop on Fifth Avenue! I hid on that damn island for seven years. I’m done living like I’m poor!”

“Papa, I want McDonald’s. It smells bad here… I’m scared…”

The boy’s crying blended into the shouting, a chaotic mess of noise. I imagined Luca caught in the middle—stressed, overwhelmed, and pulled in every direction. A strange satisfaction rose in my chest. Yet, beneath it all was sorrow.

Was this his first love, the woman he could never forget? Was this the one he chose over me and our six-year marriage, risking betrayal of the Corleone family just to protect her?

Strip away the filter of money, and what remained was nothing but ugliness.

I lifted my hand and knocked on the door. The noise inside stopped instantly.

“Who is it?” Luca called out, his voice tense.

“The landlord,” I answered, my tone cold as ice.

The door opened. The moment Luca saw me, it was as if he had seen death itself. His face drained of color. His body froze in place.

“V-Victoria?”