MasukThis was where the Corleone family's power had been at its peak, and yet I deliberately chose to hold my wedding here.No suffocating black motorcades, no armed bodyguards in black suits. Just sunflowers blanketing the hills and the salty dampness of sea breeze.I wore a haute couture ivory wedding gown, walking barefoot across the sand. The sunset painted the ocean orange, and Luca stood in the glow of light, smiling at me.During my vows, I looked into his clear eyes:"I once believed happiness had to depend on some kind of power, that I needed the title of 'Mrs.' to prove my existence. Later I understood—freedom isn't something someone grants you. It's something you fight for yourself. In this world, the rarest thing isn't having someone admire your success, but having someone willing to see through your strength and protect your vulnerability."I paused, feeling Luca squeeze my hand back, his fingertips warm and solid."Luca, thank you for bringing me home."Cheers erupted from fri
That voice was too familiar—so familiar that even after three years, I recognized it in a single second.It was Vincent.I turned my head, my expression flickering with a touch of surprise.He had changed; he changed so much I almost didn't recognize him. The invincible tyrant from three years ago was gone. The man before me was gaunt, his cheeks sunken, and beneath his once-piercing eyes lay a deathly, bruised darkness. His bespoke suit hung limply on his frame, making him look like a vagrant wandering through an old dream.He was clutching a bouquet of flowers with a white-knuckled grip."Isabella..." he began, his voice trembling. "I've searched for you for three years... I finally found you.""Vincent, you're blocking my car door," I said flatly.He flinched as if stung by my words. He held up the roses, his eyes filled with a humility that bordered on begging. "I'm sorry... The business with the baby, the St. Regis Hotel—I've cleared it all up. I've dealt with Lena, and I've liqui
A week later, Vincent stopped going out.He dismissed all the servants and locked himself in the empty nursery all day long.He'd decorated that room himself. After I got pregnant, he took me to three different baby stores, lingering forever in each one, staring blankly at various cribs and little outfits. I'd teased him then, "The Don can't make up his mind?" He'd snorted. "I'm being thorough. What do you know?"The silk rug was something he'd specially ordered from Sicily, saying the wool from there was the softest and wouldn't hurt the baby's skin. He'd had someone check the crib's wood three times for formaldehyde. He'd picked out the wallpaper himself—light blue with little bears and stars printed on it.When the clerk asked whether he preferred the boy or girl version, he'd casually pointed. "This one. Make it quick."His tone back then had been dismissive, but his gaze had lingered on that wallpaper for a long time.Now, he stared at those little bear patterns as tears streamed
He clutched that thin miscarriage report, his fingertips trembling so badly he could barely hold it. "No... impossible..."He threw aside the report and rushed out frantically. He nearly turned the entire city upside down, but couldn't find a trace of her. In the end, all he could do was drown his sorrows in alcohol.At three in the morning, Vincent returned to the estate reeking of booze, collapsing onto the marble floor of the parlor like a hollowed-out shell.Lena rushed over to care for him, crouching beside him and consoling him softly. "Vincent, don't be like this. Isabella's just trying to force you to give in. She'll come back in a few days."Vincent didn't respond. He just stared blankly at a spot on the floor, his eyes frighteningly vacant.Suddenly, Lena's phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, her expression shifting slightly, and stood to move to the adjacent sitting room.What she didn't know was that the sitting room wasn't soundproof."I was the one who drugged him a
"Don't worry," I stared into his eyes, enunciating each word. "The child definitely won't be born into a single-parent household."After hearing this, Vincent laughed dismissively. "What, do you have some other man waiting for you out there? Isabella, you've been with me since you were twenty. Besides me, who in this world would dare take you in?"His tone suddenly halted, a trace of crimson seeping into his eyes."It's not that man who took your virginity...""What the hell can he even offer you?!""Don't forget—your mother's dying wish was to see you win six Best Actress awards.""If you divorce me, can he give you that title?"He leaned in close, tucking my disheveled hair behind my ear, his tone turning calm, almost gentle. "Get some rest, baby. Stop entertaining these unrealistic fantasies."I leaned against the cold headboard, listening to those sounds pierce through the wall. Slowly, I felt something tearing deep in my lower abdomen.It wasn't regular pain—it was a dragging, wre
When I woke up back then, Vincent was keeping watch by my bedside. Those eyes of his, so accustomed to slaughter and plunder, were now webbed with fine, red streaks of exhaustion."The doctor said you're four months pregnant." He placed his hand gently over my lower abdomen, his voice carrying a tremor that bordered on the sacred. "This is the true heir to the Corleone family. How could you be so careless? You didn't even realize you were pregnant.""It's a blessing you fainted right next to the hospital. The injuries weren't severe, otherwise... I don't know what I would have done." His eyes reddened slightly. "Don't worry. I'll be a good father. I'll take care of you both."In that moment, I almost fell for the illusion: that this mafia tyrant had truly turned over a new leaf for the sake of this unborn life.In the days that followed, he actually began a surreal transformation. He tossed all his Cuban cigars into the shredder and locked his sidearm and those shadow ledgers away. The







