1

I supported my mother as we slowly made our way toward the door.

Her injured foot slowed us down. Enzo caught up with us in just a few strides, frowning.

"Half the people in that ballroom are people my family wants to win over. Don't make a scene now."

Chiara looked my mother up and down. She scoffed, "If you don't want to leave, just say so. There's no need for this. Look, you're blocking the door."

Outside, a long line of confused guests stretched down the hall.

My mother went pale and instinctively stepped aside.

The sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through her injured foot, and she doubled over.

"Mom!"

My eyes burned as I rushed over and caught her.

While I was distracted, Chiara turned to my father.

She stuffed a dollar into his hand with a mocking smile.

"I remember you're worth ninety-nine cents, right? Keep the change as a tip and buy yourself something new. Well? Was that apology sincere enough for you?"

Someone among the guests snickered.

The laughter quickly spread through the room.

My father closed his hand around the bill and said nothing.

He was afraid of embarrassing me and even more afraid that making a scene would ruin the wedding I had looked forward to for so long.

"Chiara!" I shouted, raising my hand to slap her.

Enzo caught my wrist before I could, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

"Nora, don't let everyone see you lose control. You've endured three years of this. One more time won't hurt."

Behind him, two guards silently stepped forward, separating me from my parents.

My mother had not eaten that morning, and her blood sugar was already low. Her face had turned deathly pale.

Still, she looked at me and gently shook her head.

"Nora, let it go. You've come too far. Don't throw three years away because of me."

I stared at my mother's badly swollen ankle and said hoarsely, "Bring me a bowl of hot soup and a bag of ice first."

Enzo mistook my words for surrender, and his expression softened.

"That's more like it. You're going to be the Donna. Learn to carry yourself with dignity. Don't lose your temper over people who don't matter."

He had his men take my parents into the bridal suite.

My mother kept insisting she was fine, but once she lay down on the sofa, she couldn't even sit back up.

My father quickly wiped his eyes with his left hand, trying to hide his tears.

My eyes stung.

My father was an ordinary man, but he had never bowed his head to anyone.

Yet today, for the sake of my wedding, he swallowed his pride and forced a submissive smile.

Enzo turned to leave for the ballroom.

I blocked his way.

"Make Chiara and everyone who laughed just now apologize to my father."

Enzo stopped and looked at me as if I had just said something ridiculous.

"Do you understand what you're saying? This is our wedding. You're really going to fight me over them?"

A bitter ache spread through my chest.

"They're my parents. They matter."

Enzo looked into my eyes and said in a lower voice, "If an enemy used them to force you to act against the Family, would you still let your emotions control you? Nora, don't let me down."

I stared at his calm face, and my heart slowly turned cold.

Enzo had only ever cared about the outcome, never about what it cost to get there.

For three years, he had not cared how much those tests hurt me.

And today, he did not care that my father had been publicly humiliated or that my mother was injured.

But I did.

I knew my father had been too excited to sleep for several nights before this wedding. He had washed and pressed his clothes over and over, terrified of leaving a single crease.

My mother told everyone she met that her daughter was getting married and posted every detail of the wedding on Facebook.

Love wasn't the only reason I'd agreed to marry Enzo and endure all those tests.

I had also hoped that marrying him would give my parents some protection.

But now I realized he had never considered them as family.

My father discreetly took my hand and forced a smile.

"Nora, I'm all right. Don't worry."

Even now, he was more worried about me than himself.

I covered my mouth and choked back a sob.

My phone buzzed.

It was Hugo Borrelli, the Don of the Borrelli family.

Three months ago, I had won a cross-border commercial case for the Valli family.

That case involved three shipping lines, seven shell companies, and a trove of documents that could have bled the Valli family dry.

Hugo had sat in the public gallery that day without saying a word.

After the hearing, he handed me a business card.

"Ms. Sutton, your talents are wasted on the Valli family."

He approached me three times after that, raising his offer each time.

Not once was I tempted.

But when I read his message this time, I hesitated for the first time.

"Ms. Sutton, I saw everything that happened just now. I'll double my previous offer. In addition, I will guarantee your parents' safety."

I looked toward the bridal suite.

My mother's lips were still pale.

My father still had that crumpled bill in his hand.

I lowered my head and typed. My hands trembled, but this time, I didn't hesitate.

"I accept your terms."