The Day I Left, My Brother the Don Regretted

On the day I received the email for the international medical relief mission, Father Mario patted my shoulder in the shadows of the church.

"Vivian, congratulations. This assignment will keep you away for years. You’ll probably rarely see New York again."

"Go home and spend some time with your family before you leave."

I tucked the envelope into my pocket and walked toward the heavily guarded Corleone estate one last time.

In the backyard, Rocco was preparing Elena’s eighteenth birthday gala. I walked slowly toward him.

"Rocco, I’m home."

Rocco turned around, and when he saw it was me, his voice was like ice.

"Vivian, finally decided to show your face? It’s Elena’s birthday. Don’t you dare start any drama today."

Afraid he’d kick me out, I quickly pulled out an exquisite gift box.

"I brought her a gift. It’s those handmade Belgian chocolates she’s always wanted."

"Since when did you become so considerate?"

I ignored his sarcasm and forced a smile. "Rocco, your shirt smells like blood and cordite. Take it off and I’ll handle it for you."

"Elena... she can’t stand that smell."

This was the first time I’d ever bowed my head to him, the first time I’d been this submissive. I just wanted to maintain a shred of sibling connection during my last few days. After this, there probably wouldn't be another chance.

Rocco was silent for a moment. Seeing my desperate attempt to please him, he finally relented. He unfastened his cufflinks, stripped off the expensive shirt, and tossed it to me.

I caught it immediately and ran to the laundry room in the side wing. While clearing the pockets, I checked them out of habit and found a receipt from a high-end boutique tucked into the lining.

Holding that small slip of paper, my heart skipped a beat.

Five years ago, Rocco took me to Manhattan while he was settling some accounts. I’d stared at a black gown encrusted with diamond chips in a window for the longest time. That day, as he wiped blood off his piece, he’d gruffly promised me: once he was settled in as Don, I’d have first pick of the most expensive dresses in New York.

A warmth spread through me. He remembered. He still cared about his own sister.

By the time I finished with the shirt and returned, Rocco and Elena were already seated at the long walnut dining table. It was laid out with top-tier bluefin tuna and bottles of Lafite.

But I noticed something immediately—there were only two silver settings on the table.

I didn't say a word. I grabbed a set of cutlery from the cabinet myself and sat at the very end of the long table.

Elena cut into her Wagyu beef, fawning over Rocco. "Rocco, this is amazing. I want more..."

Rocco turned to look at me.

Before he could speak, I pushed my plate toward the center of the table. "I’m on a diet lately. I don't really want anything this greasy. Give it all to her."

As I looked down, I saw Rocco’s hand pause over his wine glass, a flash of surprise in his eyes. But a second later, he placed the best cut of Wagyu onto Elena’s plate, his voice low and doting.

"Eat as much as you like. It’s your big day."

At that moment, the most expensive food in the world tasted like sawdust in my mouth. My arms were so thin they were practically just bone—did I really need to diet?

My nose stung, and I downed a heavy gulp of red wine. I figured if I filled my stomach, maybe my heart wouldn't feel so empty.

After dinner, Rocco pulled out a black and gold gift box.

"Elena, see what I got for you."

Elena, still chewing on the chocolates I’d given her, tore open the box. Her eyes lit up instantly.

"Wow! It’s the limited-edition diamond gown from Fifth Avenue! Rocco, it’s beautiful!"

"It’s nothing. I just landed a major score. I’ll buy you whatever you want from now on."

The silver steak knife in my hand nearly hit the floor.

So... the dress wasn't for me.

Rocco noticed my reaction, and his voice immediately returned to that cold, Don authority.

"Vivian, what now? You’re going to lose your mind again over a dress?"