Chapter 3

The manager's betrayal made their glares even more disgusted.

Ignoring the filth on my face, I glared back. My voice carried the absolute, terrifying authority of a superior.

"I am the real owner of this estate! My husband, Rocco Castiglione, will not let any of you live!"

Bianca burst into loud, ugly laughter. She laughed until tears came out.

"Rocco Castiglione? Hahaha!" She clapped her hands. "Your husband is probably some street thug! Trying to claim he's my husband's boss? Everyone knows how untouchable the Godfather of the Castiglione family is. You aren't even fit to shine his shoes!"

"She's insane! Totally insane!" the redhead shrieked.

"You don't need to lay a finger on me. I'll walk myself." I coldly shoved away the security guards trying to grab me, my gaze as sharp as an unsheathed blade. "I'm going to wash my face. You'd better use this time to prepare your last words."

My aura was so overwhelmingly dominant that the guards actually froze, too intimidated to step forward.

Ignoring the mess on my clothes, I strode directly toward the luxurious first-floor powder room, like a queen inspecting her territory.

I didn't bother listening to the barking of these dead women walking, and locked the bathroom door behind me.

Warm water washed away the sticky cream and wine, revealing my flawlessly pale features.

I fixed my messy hair, staring at the cold, murderous reflection in the mirror, and patted my face dry with a fresh towel.

A loud crash came from outside.

"Smash her car!" I heard Bianca screaming. "Driving this junk in here!"

I pushed open the bathroom door and walked out, only to see several women using garden stones to smash the windows of my Aston Martin.

Glass shards flew everywhere.

Reaching through the broken windows, they unlocked the doors and ruthlessly rummaged through my car. They found a custom cigar case Rocco gave me. It had our initials engraved on it—a symbol of supreme power in the North American underworld.

They also found a bespoke cashmere coat Rocco had draped over my shoulders last night. It still carried the faint scent of his cedarwood cologne.

"Look at this!" The skinny woman held up the cashmere coat. "Just a whore trying to seduce rich old men!"

"Showing off this filthy trash!"

They cursed at me, stomping those precious tokens under their heels.

Bianca pulled out a lighter. She smiled evilly. "Since it's garbage, let's burn it."

"Light that, and I promise your hand will end up looking just like those ashes." I stood on the steps, looking down at her from above. There wasn't a trace of panic in my eyes—only the dead calm of looking at a corpse.

But she lit the coat anyway. The premium cashmere twisted, blackened, and turned to ash in the flames.

Next was the cigar case. The wood bearing our names crackled softly in the fire.

The firelight flickered against my bone-chillingly cold face.

Bianca, meanwhile, bragged to her friends. "Once I'm officially a Castiglione, I'll introduce you to the bachelors in the family!"

"Really? That's amazing!"

"You're our savior, Bianca!"

Just as they were eagerly daydreaming about their future, a black Rolls-Royce pulled into the estate.

The license plate bore the Black Eagle crest—the core symbol of the Castiglione family. It caught the cold sunlight.

The car door opened, and a tall figure stepped out. It was Nico.

He frowned at the smoking fire. I could see the annoyance on his face—as Godfather Rocco's personal driver, he was used to playing big shot, and he hated people causing trouble on his "big day."

"What crazy woman?" he asked impatiently.

"That bitch who just came out of the bathroom! She dared to use the Godfather's real name and even slapped me! She has a death wish!" Bianca pointed straight at me on the steps.

Nico marched over, a vicious sneer on his face. "Let's see which stupid bitch dares to act up on my turf..."

His words stopped dead. His voice cut off like the Grim Reaper just snapped his neck.

By now, my face was completely washed clean, restoring the untouchable majesty of a mafia matriarch.

When he saw my face, all the arrogance vanished from his.

He stopped dead in his tracks as if struck by lightning, his legs shaking uncontrollably.

Thump.

This "powerful" man Bianca bragged about dropped straight to his knees onto the shattered glass on the ground.

"Donna... Donna Alessia!" he gasped in horror.

The smiles on every woman's face froze dead.