Chapter 2

Lorenzo knew damn well that Sophia had it out for me, yet he threw me to the wolves anyway.

A silence fell upon the banquet hall as every eye turned toward Sophia. Her face brimmed with smugness as she fished a ring of silver keys from her clutch and twirled them around her finger.

"Oh, what should I do?" Sophia sighed dramatically. "Ms. Corleone has always been so high and mighty. I'm sure she wouldn't stoop to begging a mere secretary like me."

I looked down at Mia in my arms. Her breathing was so faint that I could barely feel it, her chest no longer rising.

I couldn't wait any longer. Another second and not even God himself could bring her back.

I swallowed every last shred of my pride and turned toward Sophia, kneeling before her.

"Please… Ms. Bianchi, please give me the keys. Mia is innocent. If you have a grudge, take it out on me, but don't hurt her."

Sophia didn't hand me the keys. Instead, she took two deliberate steps back, widening the gap between us.

"Too quiet. I can't hear you."

She walked to the center of the banquet hall and stood beneath the crystal chandelier, looking down at me like a queen.

"Besides, I'm not pleased with the way you ask for favors."

She pointed to the marble floor at her feet.

"You want the keys? Fine. Crawl to me from where you are. And as you crawl, say it out loud. Say you're a whore, and your daughter is a bastard. Make it to my feet, and I'll give you the keys."

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Even some of Lorenzo's Soldati showed a rare flash of pity.

Forcing the wife of a Capo to crawl like a dog in front of Lorenzo's Soldati and his business associates wasn't just humiliation; it was a psychological execution.

I looked toward Lorenzo. He was holding a glass of wine, chatting and laughing with a few business associates eager to curry favor, as if everything happening a few feet away had nothing to do with him.

But from the corner of his eye, he kept casting cold glances in my direction.

He was waiting for me to shatter completely, to admit my own worthlessness—all to satisfy his twisted hunger for revenge.

I looked down at Mia's tightly shut eyes. For my daughter, I would walk through hell itself.

"Fine," I ground out through clenched teeth.

I braced my hands on the floor, my knees scraping against the coarse carpet as I dragged myself forward.

One step.

"I am a whore!"

Two steps.

"My daughter… is a bastard!"

Every word felt like jagged glass, shredding my heart into pieces.

Whistles and jeers erupted around me. They pulled out their phones to record. Camera flashes strobed in my face, capturing the most humiliating moment of my life.

Sophia shook with laughter. Never one to miss a chance to twist the knife, she thrust one foot forward, signaling that I had to kiss the toe of her stiletto to make it count.

I endured every shred of humiliation and finally crawled to her feet. At some point, shards of broken glass had scattered across the floor. By the time I reached her, my hands and knees were slick with blood.

I reached out a trembling hand, palm up, in the universal gesture of a beggar.

"Ms. Bianchi, I've done everything you asked. Give me the keys."

Sophia watched my pathetic groveling, the malice in her eyes reaching its peak, then stopped twirling the keys.

"Such a good girl, Elena. Too bad…"

Her fingers suddenly relaxed, and the silver keys splashed into a nearby bucket of ice-cold whiskey. The bucket was deep, and with the open wounds on my hands, plunging them in would bring searing pain.

"Oops! Butterfingers," Sophia said lightly, without the slightest hint of sincerity. "Guess you'll have to fish them out yourself."

Without hesitation, I plunged my hand straight into the ice-cold bucket.

The wounds on my palm felt like they were being torn open all over again. Pain drained the color from my face, but I didn't stop. I clawed frantically through the ice until my fingers finally closed around something cold and metallic.

I grabbed the keys as if I were clutching Mia's life itself.

I pulled my hand out and raised the keys high, a wild surge of hope lighting up my face.

"I have the keys! Mia, I'm coming for you!"

I turned and tried to rush back to Mia, but pain exploded in my knees, and I stumbled.

In the next instant, a gold stiletto heel slammed down onto the back of my hand, grinding it into the carpet again and again.

A sharp pain shot through me. My fingers slackened, and the keys dropped to the carpet.

"Look at you, Elena Corleone. You really are nothing but a dog, aren't you?"

Sophia's voice drifted down from above. Then she bent down, picked up the keys, and leaned close to me, sneering in a voice only the two of us could hear.

"Since you're so desperate to save that bastard's life, why don't you join her in hell?"

With that, she turned and tossed the keys into the fireplace.

"Oh, sweetheart, that was an accident," she chirped, doubling over with laughter.

"No! Don't!" I roared, shoving her away like a madwoman. I was beyond caring what happened next.

The fire blazed hot and bright. Without hesitation, I thrust my bare hand straight into the flames to find those keys.