LOGINPete remained motionless until the next morning when the elders of the family council found him.“Donna should be buried. You, as Don, shouldn’t have fallen so low.”Pete roared, “No! You can’t take her away! She’s mine!”The elders, watching this scene, waved for their men to remove Isabella’s body.Pete stood there helplessly, his pleas unwavering.A subordinate approached cautiously, his voice low and fearful.“Don, the manor has been cleaned up. Would you like to see it?”“Yes!” Pete’s eyes suddenly lit up, almost uncontrollably excited.“Of course.”He had been all smiles on the way there.But when he arrived, the smile froze instantly.Everything was gone.All the items that had held their shared memories.Every letter.Every keepsake.Every ounce of love he had flaunted and then discarded.Because he had burned them all.He had destroyed her with his own hands.Isabella's dress—burnt to ashes.Her jewels—sold out.Even the smallest object she had ever touched was gone.He had nothing
Pete wanted a moment of peace.Just a moment.He wanted to sit beside Isabella and talk to her—quietly, undisturbed, without blood, without screams.Like the beginning.Back when everything had been simple.Back when he wasn’t the Don of the family yet—just a university student with nothing but time and foolish sincerity.Isabella had been the cheerleading captain.Radiant. Untouchable. The kind of girl who lit up an entire field just by standing there.He remembered how he had chased her.Every afternoon, without fail, he went to watch her rehearsals.He never missed a single one.And every time it ended, he would be there—a bouquet of roses in his hands,and a small strawberry cake, always the same.Day after day.For a full year.He had never complained.Never grown tired.Until that night.When she finally smiled at him and said yes.That was the night they became they.The memory was warm. Gentle. Almost unbearably soft.The door was flung open.Mia stumbled in, soaking wet, trembling
Berg couldn't hear anything.He was terrified.His cries echoed through the courtyard.Mia stepped forward and embraced him."It's alright. From now on, I'm your mother, Donna of the family."Before she finished speaking, she was violently shoved to the ground.Berg pounced on her like a wild beast.He climbed on top of her and beat her with all his might."It's all your fault!" he roared."It's all because of you!""If it weren't for you, our family wouldn't be like this.""Give her back to me!"His fists rained down.Mia screamed and then lost consciousness.The servants rushed in and dragged her away.Berg staggered to his feet, crying, and tried to crawl towards the gazebo—towards Isabella.A boot came down hard, slamming into his shoulder and sending him crashing back to the ground.“I told you she’s not dead!” Pete roared.The words tore out of him, wild and frantic, as if volume alone could turn them into truth.“Can’t you understand human language?!”He wasn’t shouting at Berg.He
“Isabella—Isabella!”Ignoring the blood seeping from his shoulder, Pete rushed forward and caught her as she collapsed.“Enough!” he roared hoarsely, shaking her. “Stop pretending! If you keep this up, I’ll throw away your daughter’s ashes!”She didn’t respond.A faint smile lingered on her lips, as if mocking his incompetence. Blood gushed from her mouth, staining his hands.The heat of the blood made his fingers tremble uncontrollably.“Isabella…?”He called her name again and again, gripping her hand tightly, his voice hoarse.No response.Finally, he broke down.“Doctor!” he cried, panic completely shattering his composure. “Quick, call a doctor!”The servants rushed to find a doctor; they had never seen Don so angry.Berg rushed over, pale-faced.“Father…what happened to Mother?”Pete didn’t hear him.His fingers trembled as he wiped the blood from Isabella’s lips again and again, as if that could erase everything.“Why is she bleeding?” he murmured. “It shouldn’t be like this. She
Pete's face instantly darkened. “Then destroy it. I hope you won't regret it.” I didn't respond. I walked past them without looking back. Berg blocked my way. “If you don't forgive us,” he said tautly, “I'll go out partying tomorrow and won't come home.” He'd used this tactic before. Before, I would always advise him, make him study hard, make him understand that as the heir to the family, he needed wisdom, not just brute force; such a family wouldn't last. Now, I'm tired. So tired that even breathing is a burden. “Do as you please, do whatever you want,” I said. As soon as I stepped into the house, the old wooden door behind me slammed shut. A lock slid into place. “This is Mr. Pete's order,” a woman outside said, “You stay here and reflect until you realize your mistakes.” I remained silent. Over the next few days, the food became increasingly scarce, and eventually, even the food that was delivered was spoiled. He waited for me to apologize, as I had always done. But
I survived that ordeal at the cost of my child. The doctor said I could never conceive again. This was the price of survival. I don't know how many days I was unconscious. But when I awoke, my butler told me what happened next. Pete ordered his men to take Mia out of town and place her in a secluded, safe location. He prepared everything for her, arranging for constant protection. Careful and meticulous. Afraid of any harm to her. And the butler told me he had discovered Pete's affair had lasted for at least a decade. All these years, I had never known. Pete had hidden it very well. The first thing I did afterward was bury the already formed child. Pete didn't come, saying the Mafia was in turmoil. But I knew he was with Mia. Later, when Pete came to see me, I filed for divorce. I didn't make any demands. I only wanted to take my son, Berg, with me. But to my disappointment... Just minutes before, the boy was sitting by my bedside, holding my hand, asking if I was in pain







