Chapter 8

On an island in Severia, inside the old castle of the Corleones, was the location of the power center of the underworld. A black flag was flapping in the wind by the sea.

I was wearing a long, red down with the skirt trailing long behind me. My hair was put up high, and my fair, slender neck was exposed.

In this place, I was no longer the weak designer known as Mia. I was Mia Corleone, the queen of this place.

Silvio was by my side. He had taken off his bloodstained cloak and replaced it with the dapper suit that was worn only by the Don.

"Mia, a report from Micosa has just been delivered."

Silvio placed a photo of Micosa's most dangerous slum in front of me. Ernest was crouching next to a heap of garbage as a group of beggars was beating him up over a piece of bread that had just been stepped on. His hands were once used to play the piano and sign contracts, but were now covered in dirt.

As for Anna, she had managed to live six months in the warehouse. Every piece of her skin w