Chapter 2

The next afternoon, Ernest left the house, using the reason that he had to take care of a shipment at the port.

When the villa doors were pushed open, I was sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the dark sky.

"It's been a while, Mia." A soft, demure voice with a cold tone was heard coming from the living room.

It was Anna in a wheelchair. A bodyguard had pushed her in. Anna was wearing beige, silky pajamas with a huge black coat over her.

I recognized that coat.

It was Ernest's favorite coat. He would never let me touch that coat, as he claimed it represented the dignity of the Marinos. Yet, it was now hanging on Anna.

"What are you doing here? Ernest isn't home," I said coldly.

Anna waved off the bodyguard. She tried to stand up with great effort from the wheelchair as her body was too frail, and she walked slowly toward me. Her face was so sickly pale that it was almost translucent, but her eyes were shockingly bright. They reminded me of a venomous snake that was targeting its prey.

"I came over because he isn't here."

Her skinny hand reached out to grab my wrist. Her touch was like ice, and her fingers were almost digging into my flesh.

"Ernest told me that your DNA matched mine so closely that we're almost the same person." She suddenly laughed. It sounded crazy.

"He told me that you've been drinking medicine religiously for the last six months. The report from your blood test is so perfect that it could be called art."

I flung her hand off me and stood up. I looked down at her.

"Can you sleep at night knowing you're sacrificing another life for yours, Anna?"

"Life?" Anna acted as if she had just heard a joke. She looked up at me with a pitiful look and eyes that were filled with viciousness.

"Don't you know where you stand in this family, Mia? You're not a complete person in the eyes of the Marinos." She pointed at the expensive antiques in the living room and the tailor-made pajamas on me, worth hundreds of thousands.

"These things… They are all just 'rental' that Ernest has been paying you.

"He is renting your body to nurture a healthy kidney. He's renting the remainder of your life to be used in service for the Marinos. Do you think he loves you? All he's doing right now is to protect his 'asset.'"

Anna leaned in close to me and lowered her voice as she spoke. Every word she spat was venomous.

"Ernest came to see me last night at the hospital ward. He had me in his arms when he told me how disgusting he felt when he saw your hair dropping while looking so pathetically frail.

"If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't even want to stay a second longer with you in that bedroom."

It felt like a giant hand was clenching hard on my heart. Even though I already knew the truth, it still hurt so horribly that I could hardly stand when I heard it coming from the mouth of this crazy woman.

"Stop fighting against this, Mia." Anna returned to sit in her wheelchair.

"Ernest has arranged the surgery for the day after tomorrow.

"Stay put these two days, or you might end up suffering in the water prison of the Marinos."

Before she left, she turned back to glance at me with confidence and an arrogant air of victory.

"By the way, remember to continue taking the medicine. That's the last 'adoration' Ernest will ever show you."

After Anna left, I looked around inside the empty living room and suddenly laughed. I laughed so hard that tears fell from my eyes.

Not only did Ernest plan to take my kidney to save the woman he loved, but he even wanted to take my dignity. He thought that I had no one to rely on and was a suitable donor whom he had full control of. However, the daughters of the Corleones would never allow anyone to take advantage of them.

I walked into the study and locked the door behind me. Inside the secret compartment in the lowest drawer of Ernest's desk was a laptop that had been encrypted. Did he really think that the mafia's secret code would stop me? How naive.

When I was ten, my brother Silvio Corleone forced me to decode the most complicated firewall the Corleones had.

My fingers flew across the keyboard swiftly. Soon, a document about me called 'Project Live Organ Transplant' appeared on the laptop screen. It clearly recorded every detail in the past six months of how Ernest had slowly convinced me to take immunosuppressants, and how he had bribed my doctor to fake my medical report.

The last page was an insurance policy with the name 'Ernest Marino' listed as the beneficiary. He would receive a payout if I died of a sudden infection from surgery.

What great plans Ernest had for me. He took the opportunity to squeeze every ounce of advantage he could from me, even before my body had turned cold.