Chapter 2

Sonny took my five hundred thousand and charged into the night like a boar in heat.

Early the next morning, two men in black threw him back onto our doorstep like a piece of trash.

“Ah! It hurts! My leg! Mom! Dad!” Sonny was covered in blood. The designer suit had been torn into rags, and his face was swollen like a steamed bun.

“That middleman was a scammer! He took the money and ran, then had people beat me up!”

Carmela screamed and lunged forward. “My God! Who did this?! Who dared touch my son?! He’s the future Don Corleone’s godson!”

Vincent kicked over the coffee table.

“Where’s the money?! Where the hell is my five hundred thousand?!”

“The money… it’s gone…” Sonny’s face was smeared with snot and tears. Then his eyes shifted, and he suddenly pointed at me with vicious hatred.

“That b*st*rd said… said I didn’t know the rules! He said if I want to enter Don Corleone’s door, I need a real ‘knockout’!”

He licked the blood from his lips, his gaze cold and venomous. “Like… a clean, pretty girl.”

The living room froze.

Three pairs of eyes locked onto me like hooks, showing greed, calculation, and coldness, but not a trace of warmth that you’d give family.

I sat by the window, trimming a pot of red roses. “Snip.”

“Angelina.” Vincent walked over. The hands that had beaten my mother and me pressed heavily onto my shoulder, squeezing until my bones ached.

“Whether your brother catches Don Corleone’s eye depends entirely on you.”

“I heard there’s a favorite by Don Corleone’s side,” Carmela said, lifting my chin with her crimson-painted fingernails. “They call him Nine Fingers. He likes young girls. Tonight, you’ll go accompany Mr. Nine Fingers.

“Whatever he asks, you endure it, even if he plays you to death. You owe it to the family!”

Sonny hauled himself up from the floor. His swollen face twisted into a rotten, poisonous grin.

“Angelina, that sl*tty face of yours was born for this.

“If you dare refuse… I’ll print ten thousand copies of your shower photos and plaster them all over Newford! I mean it!”

So this was my “family”.

For an empty dream of wealth and power, they would shove their daughter, their sister, straight into the filthiest pit and squeeze out the last drop of blood.

I put down the scissors and stood, smoothing the wrinkles in my dress at my own pace.

“Fine.”

I looked at them and smiled the brightest smile I’d worn since my rebirth.

“I’ll go.”

Of course, the one I was going to meet was an actor I’d paid a high price to hire.

That night, in the deepest VIP room of an underground casino.

The fake “Nine Fingers” I hired had flawless acting skills.

He lounged in the shadows, one foot propped on the gambling table, two scantily dressed women in his arms. His eyes were full of contempt, as if he were looking at trash.

“You want to see Don Corleone?” He spat out a mouthful of smoke. His shiny crocodile-skin shoe nearly stepped on Sonny’s face as he kneeled on the floor.

“In Newford, the line of people who want to be Don Corleone’s dogs stretches all the way to the Statue of Liberty. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Sonny trembled violently. “N-Nine Fingers, sir! I-I’ve got guts! I dare to kill! My sister… My sister is yours to play with!” As he spoke, he shoved me forward hard.

“Heh.” The fake Nine Fingers snorted. “Women? I’ve got plenty of those.”

He slammed a cold, gleaming dagger into the solid wooden table. “You want a chance? Sign this.”

It was a five-million-dollar loan contract. The most terrifying part was the clause on joint liability.

If Sonny couldn’t repay it, Vincent, Carmela, and I would all be sold to the lowest brothels in Southeast Asia to settle the debt.

Sonny’s hand shook as he held the pen, like he had malaria.

I leaned in at just the right moment, close to his ear, and whispered so only the two of us could hear.

“Sonny, sign it. Once you do, you’ll be in the Corleone family.

“When that happens, this little bit of money won’t mean anything. You can wipe out whoever beat you and their whole family today.

“Someday, all of Newford could be yours…”

Greed instantly burned away the last shred of his reason.

Sonny’s eyes turned bloodshot. He let out a low roar, grabbed the pen, and slammed his name onto the contract.

“It’s done! I’m Don Corleone’s man now! Hahaha!”

He laughed wildly, as if he were already sitting on the throne of the underworld.

I stood in the shadows of the private room, gently swirling the red wine in my glass as I watched the contract soaked in greed.

Five million dollars.

This gift was more than enough to make him regret it, all the way at the bottom of hell.