Chapter 3

I arranged to meet Leone at the underground mafia organization's headquarters we had built together.

Four years ago, he had provided the initial funding and connections among the upper echelons, while I had been responsible for establishing the intelligence network, training the lower-ranking operatives, and designing the headquarters' security defenses.

From a small team of barely a few dozen members, the organization had grown steadily into an underground power that could no longer be ignored in the region.

Yet, from the very beginning, all official titles and registered assets had been placed under Leone's name.

I had once thought it didn't matter. After all, we were going to get married sooner or later. Only now did I realize that it had been nothing more than my own wishful thinking.

"I want to take the entire intelligence archive of Shadowbough with me."

I spread a thick stack of encrypted hard drives and hand-drawn security blueprints across the table.

"The intellectual property rights to the intelligence materials, along with the entire network of informants I've established, are to be transferred into my name."

Leone leaned back in his dark leather chair, as though he had just heard a childish demand.

"Once we're married, what difference does it make whether everything in this organization belongs to you or not?"

"It makes a difference." I held his gaze. "This organization bears the Donato name, not the Munari name."

His expression darkened. "Just because the prenuptial agreement doesn't provide you with a trust, you're going to drag up every grievance from the past four years?"

I looked at him, my heart turning to ice.

I had never cared about the wealth or status this marriage could bring me. What truly cut me wasn't the cold wording of the trust clauses, but Leone's blatant favoritism.

For four years, I had built the intelligence network with my own hands and helped him survive several deadly coordinated attacks.

Yet, in Leone's eyes, my sacrifices and everything I had worked so hard to build were simply what he expected of me. But the moment Camilla appeared, everything I had ever given suddenly became worthless.

Just as I was about to speak, a commotion erupted outside the door.

With red-rimmed eyes, Camilla walked in clutching the bare neckline of her dress.

"Leone, the brooch my maternal grandmother left me is missing."

The Soldato who had accompanied her reported in a low voice that, according to the surveillance footage, I was the only person who had entered the VIP lounge.

Every eye in the room turned toward me.

I took out my phone and ordered, "Pull up the complete surveillance footage."

Camilla quickly shot a meaningful glance at the Soldato beside her.

The Soldato looked visibly troubled.

Camila clutched Leone's sleeve, the panic in her eyes vanishing almost as quickly as it appeared. She immediately reached out and took hold of his arm.

"Forget it. Perhaps I've simply forgotten where I put it. Don't put Isola in an awkward position on my account."

The more magnanimously she played the victim, the more suspiciously everyone looked at me.

Leone was silent for a few seconds before pulling me aside.

"It's Camilla's first formal dinner since returning to the country. If this gets blown out of proportion, it'll damage her reputation."

I was so furious that I nearly laughed. "Why would her reputation be damaged when she's the one who lost something, while I'm the one being accused of stealing it?"

"I never said you took it," Leone said in a hushed tone. "Just apologize for now to smooth things over. I'll buy you a more expensive brooch later."

I had been falsely accused, yet instead of finding out the truth, his first instinct was to throw money at me to keep me quiet.

As I looked at the man I had loved for four years, I suddenly realized I could no longer even feel disappointed in him.

"And what if I refuse to apologize?"

"Isola, don't make this difficult for me."

His gaze had taken on a note of warning. My innocence wasn't even worth defending when weighed against Camilla.

I nodded and said, "I understand."

I didn't bow to Camilla or apologize to her. Instead, I took out the withdrawal and termination agreement I had prepared in advance and signed my name right in front of Leone.

I relinquished everything—management rights over the headquarters, the organization's profit shares, and every family privilege promised to me as part of the engagement.

But in the agreement's appendix, one clause was stated in unmistakably clear terms. Effective from the date of my withdrawal, the entire Shadowbough intelligence network would be permanently shut down and sealed, and I would take with me all original intelligence archives and informant lists.

Assuming I had finally given in and backed down, Leone merely skimmed a couple of lines before quickly signing his name.

Half an hour later, the Soldati found the missing brooch tucked inside an inner compartment of Camilla's own handbag.

With red-rimmed eyes, she explained that her personal assistant, Serena Lombardi, had probably misplaced it there by mistake.

Leone merely remarked, "As long as it's been found."

Not a single person apologized for accusing me of theft.

I gathered all the signed agreements and turned to leave the headquarters.

A notification from the airline appeared on my phone.

"You have successfully checked in. Your flight departs tomorrow at 3:40 pm."