Chapter 3

Suddenly, Isabella let out a bone-chilling, ear-piercing scream.

She pointed frantically at the gravel by my feet, her voice trembling. "Vito, look! The pink diamond ring!"

I looked down, and my heart skipped a beat. It was the ring Lorenzo had given me. It must have slipped off my finger earlier when Marco was violently wrestling the medical records away from me.

I moved to pick it up, but Isabella was faster.

She snatched it and turned to Vito, her voice dripping with false urgency. "I heard the Godfather spent tens of millions on a pink diamond at an auction just to please his wife. I’ve seen the photos—this is the one! Vito, she stole the Godfather’s ring!"

Vito didn't hesitate. He believed her instantly.

At that moment, only one thought consumed him: if the Godfather found out his precious token had been lost at the docks, the Rossi family was finished. To appease a man he hadn't even met yet, he needed a scapegoat immediately.

Before I could utter a word of defense, Vito gave a sharp nod.

Several thugs lunged. Their faces twisted into snarls as they pinned my shoulders back. The force was crushing.

Marco grabbed my handbag, ripping it open so violently that the contents spilled across the dirty ground. Vito bent down and picked up a stray sheet of paper. As he read it, his eyes turned colder than a corpse.

"A smuggling manifest of this level is only accessible to core members," he said, stalking toward me, his voice a low growl. "Cecilia, you’ve been working for my rival, the Matteo family? You brought these files into my docks to get the Rossi family wiped out?"

"No! Lorenzo asked me to deliver those! That’s De Santis family business!" I screamed, struggling against the bodyguards' iron grip.

"Take her away," Vito commanded coldly. "According to family law, stealing the Godfather’s property and leaking secrets is punishable by cutting off both hands. Cecilia, I’ll be merciful and plead with the family court to give you three to five years in a cell instead. I'll let you keep your life."

At the mention of being "locked away," every hair on my body stood on end.

"No! Let me go!" I don't know where the strength came from, but I jerked free from the guards and ran toward the dock exit like a madwoman.

I couldn't go back to a dungeon. I would rather die.

But I hadn't made it more than a few steps before a large hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of my long hair. Vito yanked me back so hard my neck snapped back, and tears of agony stung my eyes.

He produced a roll of duct tape from somewhere and wound it roughly around my wrists. Then, he backhanded me across the face.

The blow left half my face completely numb.

"Impersonating the Godfather’s wife and stealing secrets... how many times do you think the Godfather would kill you if he actually showed up?" Vito sneered, grabbing me by the throat. He began dragging me toward a black Cadillac as if I were a bag of trash. "Cecilia, you’ll never see the sun again."

I huddled in the cold backseat, trembling uncontrollably, drowned in absolute despair.

Just as the car door was about to slam shut, a deafening roar of engines thundered from the distance.

A fleet of twenty pitch-black armored SUVs tore through the dock’s security perimeter like a pack of predatory beasts. Hundreds of fully armed guards leaped out, sealing off the entire scene with drawn weapons before a single word was exchanged.

A car door opened, and a silhouette emerged—a figure so imposing the very air seemed to freeze. It was Lorenzo.

I used every ounce of strength I had left to throw myself against the car window, screaming toward him with everything I had.

"Lorenzo! This maniac Vito is trying to throw your wife in the dungeon again! Are you going to do something about it?"