Chapter 1

Elena's POV

When I snapped back to reality, the counter at the boutique across the street was empty.

The clothing donation worker walked over, looking at me with concern. "Signora, is everything alright?"

I froze for a moment. When I glanced down at a puddle on the ground, I finally realized how ragged I looked.

My face was pale, my clothes were faded, and my eyes brimmed with tears.

I looked down and quickly brushed the tears away with the back of my hand. "Sì, I'm fine. Just been standing too long, I guess."

She eyed me for a second, said nothing more, and turned back to sort through the newly donated clothes.

Looking at the discounted kids' clothes in the donation bin—the ones I'd spent hours picking out—my eyes burned.

After the downfall of the Costa family, I worried my husband, Antonio Costa, would be looked down on when meeting other Dons.

So I pawned the necklace Mamma gave me for our wedding just to scrape together enough for a Patek Philippe watch for him. I couldn't even bear to buy myself a decent dress.

The watch wasn't as flashy as the ones he used to wear, but it was everything I had.

Yet while I threw away my dignity just to keep him and our child afloat, he was out here splurging on overpriced clothes for another woman without a second thought.

Looking at the miserable digits in my bank account, then remembering how effortlessly he paid for Sofia Bellini's dress, I couldn't take it anymore.

With trembling hands, I called a friend of mine who was a lawyer. "Luca, I want a divorce."

After Luca Morello promised to handle the arrangements, I dragged my exhausted body home.

Late at night, the sound of leather shoes echoed down the hallway. A moment later, Antonio pushed the bedroom door open.

I sat on the bed holding our child, Matteo Costa, without even looking up at him.

As Antonio walked in, his eyes instinctively darted to the foot of the bed, where a few hand-me-down kids' clothes usually sat neatly folded.

However, it was empty tonight.

He frowned. "The mall had a sale today. You didn't pick up a few extra things while you had the chance?"

I gently laid Matteo down, opened my banking app, and turned the screen toward him.

The balance read 10 cents.

"There's no money left," I said.

Antonio paused, as if only now remembering that he hadn't given me a dime for household expenses in a long time.

After a few seconds of silence, he pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket and tossed them on the nightstand.

There were barely 50 bucks.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I couldn't help but picture the dress he'd had wrapped up for Sofia at the boutique earlier.

The cash on the nightstand wouldn't even cover half a month's toddler formula.

The absurdity of it all hit me like a physical blow, but for Matteo's sake, I picked up the money with trembling hands.

When Antonio turned to walk out, Matteo suddenly broke into tears.

I touched his forehead and realized he was burning up. I quickly picked him up to soothe him before turning to Antonio anxiously. "He has a fever. Go get some fever medicine."

Without even glancing our way, he replied absently, "Okay."

Hours went by, but the fever didn't break, and Antonio was nowhere to be found.

As Matteo grew hotter to the touch, I reached my limit and dialed Antonio's phone.

"I asked you to buy medicine! Where are you?"

Antonio's voice came through the line, thick with annoyance. "What are you rushing me for? I'll bring it back in a minute."

His irritated tone made my heart sink.

Another few dozen minutes passed without a word from him.

It was freezing outside, and I couldn't risk taking a sick child out into the cold.

It wasn't until I called Antonio repeatedly that he finally sent me a quick message. "Bought it. Wait."

Eventually, he pushed the door open, carelessly tossed a plastic bag onto the table, and walked right back out.

When I pulled out the box and checked the ingredients, my stomach dropped.

Matteo was allergic to an active ingredient in that brand.

My hands trembled violently as I held the box. I posted countless pleas for help in the neighborhood chat before finally finding a parent whose child took the same fever medicine.

When the woman knocked on my door and handed me the medicine, my voice shook as I thanked her over and over.

Once the medicine was administered and Matteo finally settled, I sat down to catch my breath.

Just then, my phone screen lit up. Sofia had posted an Instagram update.

The picture showed a wrist draped in a velvet glove, wearing a Van Cleef & Arpels diamond clover bracelet.

The backdrop was a candlelit dinner, with half a glass of champagne and an open velvet jewelry box sitting casually to the side.

The caption read, "Just glanced at it in the window two days ago, and someone went ahead and put it on my wrist."

Looking at those words, I felt like I couldn't breathe. Matteo was sick, and Antonio was busy buying gifts for Sofia.

With shaking hands, I dialed Papa's number. "Papa… I want to go home."