Chapter 2

After the argument, the rain did not let up.

Mabel was staring at the curtain of rain, lost in thought, when her Consigliere, Henry Lester, hurried in.

"Donna, we've just received word. The Don has sent her to Saint Laurent Manor."

The hand holding her wine glass tightened abruptly.

That place?

Saint Laurent Manor: the residence Anthony had spent three years building, specially commissioning a designer to create it for her.

"And…as soon as she moved in, she smashed up the dressing room in your master bedroom.

"She said your custom crimson gown looked like blood. It frightened her…and might disturb Mr. Zachary's spirit."

Henry was still choosing his words when Mabel lifted her eyes.

"So?"

"She cut the dress to pieces," he said, unable to look at her. "Laid it in the dog kennel. She said only dogs could drive away evil spirits."

Was that really about not disturbing the late Zachary's spirit?

That was nothing more than grinding her face into the ground, a blatant declaration of dominance.

"Prepare the car."

"But the Don specifically instructed—"

She shot him a cold glance.

"I said, to Saint Laurent Manor."

…

Mabel's car smashed straight through the manor's front gate, screeching to a halt in front of the main house under the stunned gaze of the Soldati.

"Donna! You can't—"

"Move."

She pushed the doors open and walked straight in, her black coat whipping violently in the rain.

The fireplace was blazing. Cheryl, wrapped in Anthony's oversized shirt, was curled up on the sofa. At her feet lay a prized hunting dog.

Beneath the dog was a heap of shredded crimson velvet.

The gown was a masterpiece hand-stitched by one of Italy's finest tailors. Now it was matted with dog hair and stains.

When she saw Mabel storm in, radiating killing intent, the girl jolted in fright.

The Rottweiler lunged forward to protect its owner, barking wildly, fangs bared.

Mabel's eyes hardened.

A silver butterfly knife slid into her palm.

The dog howled and fled, tail tucked tight.

"Blood! It's bleeding!"

Cheryl screamed, clutching her head, but Mabel caught her wrist before she could spiral into another episode.

She grabbed a pair of scissors from the table and pressed the blades against the girl's temple.

"I hear you love Zachary so much you'd do anything for him. Cutting up my gown for a kennel isn't enough?"

Her voice was calm, almost amused.

"Why don't I shave your hair and make another cushion out of it?"

"No! Help! Anthony! Save me!"

Anthony was not coming.

She had checked before arriving. At this hour, he was negotiating a weapons deal worth hundreds of millions.

Just as she was about to cut the first lock of hair, someone attacked her from behind.

A close-quarters disarm technique.

She had no time to react. Her shoulder dislocated with a sharp jolt. The scissors flew from her hand and embedded in the wall.

She was shoved into a display cabinet and crashed onto shattered glass.

Anthony stood there in a bathrobe.

His hair was damp, posture still in striking form.

The same hands that had once held her had just dislocated her arm without hesitation.

"Anthony! I was terrified!"

Cheryl rushed into his arms, sobbing.

When his gaze landed on Mabel's blood-stained figure, he paused.

He stepped forward.

"I didn't mean it. You were out of control."

"Don't touch me."

Mabel twisted away and forced herself up through the glass shards.

"When you taught me that move five years ago," she said coldly, "you said it was for enemies.

"So tell me, Anthony—am I your enemy now?"

Anthony fell silent before softening his tone.

"If you really hurt Cheryl, Zachary wouldn't forgive you. The family elders would use it against you.

"It's just a gown.

"She has trauma. Red reminds her of his death. If you want more, I'll bring the Milan tailor. Ten gowns. A hundred. Why draw a blade over this?"

Mabel only felt tired.

To him, she was making trouble over nothing.

When she refused to yield, his patience thinned.

A Don's authority did not welcome defiance.

"Everyone in Vicente knows you're the Oliver family's Donna. She just needs protection. Why can't you be generous? Must you disgrace the family before outsiders?"

"Anthony…please don't blame Mabel…"

"This is my fault… I deserve to die… Zachary's here… I can't breathe…"

Her voice faded.

"Cheryl! Breathe!"

He lifted her in his arms.

He noticed the blood near Mabel but still walked out.

"Mabel, you disappoint me.

"Stay at the manor and reflect. When you've learned, I'll come for you."

…

She sat alone in the wreckage.

After a long silence, she reset her arm with brute force.

Pain shot through her, but she swallowed it.

Gasping, she whispered, "Anthony. Consider this arm repayment for your teachings.

"And I'll show you what true defiance looks like."