Forehead Bandage

After Uncle Frank and Aunt Gina died, my older cousin, Izzy Kramer, moved in with my family. To make up for the fact that she has lost her parents, everything she has is hers and hers alone. I'm not allowed to even think about touching them. Summer comes along, and my parents get Izzy a brand new bathtub. I happen to glance at it for just a second longer, and Izzy immediately breaks into tears. "If you want all of these things, Melanie, go ahead and take them! I just want my parents back!" Mom and Dad are furious, and Mom storms over to slap me. "Why are you acting like such a spoiled child? What, have you never seen a bathtub before? Why do you keep staring at Izzy's bathtub, huh?" My cheek stings. Ever since then, I've grown too scared to even look at any of Izzy's things. One day, Izzy invites me to have a soak in her bathtub. Thrilled, I carefully step into the water, but it's not as warm as I expected. In fact, the icy water instinctively gives me the urge to draw backward, but Izzy gives me a hard shove from behind. She swiftly locks the bathroom door shut after. "Since you like eyeing other people's things so much, you jealous brat, I'll make sure you have a nice long soak in the tub this time!" Having lost my footing when she shoved me, I bash my head against the side of the bathtub. I feel something warm trickling down my forehead, but that sensation is quickly replaced by the icy water that surrounds me. I don't know how much time passed, but eventually, I find myself hovering in the air. I hear Izzy's voice coming from the other side of the door. She complains to my parents, "Uncle James! Aunt Louise! Melanie snuck into the bathroom to use my bathtub!"

At the afterparty, my daughter, Mia Volpe, suffers from a sudden asthma attack. She collapses to the carpeted floor and goes through a seizure on the spot. But my Capo husband, Lorenzo Volpe, wraps an arm around his secretary, Sophia Bianchi, while watching Mia suffer before his eyes. Sophia had once shown him a forged paternity test of Mia and him. As such, he firmly believes that Mia is the bastard child of me and a Soldato. When Mia tries to reach out for Lorenzo, her complexion already bluish-purple from suffocation, he merely averts his gaze with a disgusted look on his face. "Daddy… S-Save… me…" I look everywhere for Mia's inhaler like a madwoman, only to realize that it's already empty. Sophia covers her mouth while tittering softly. "Dear me, Mia sure has an affinity for acting! Elena, I can't believe you and your daughter are willing to go to such lengths just to get Lorenzo to pay attention to you! "Since Mia likes acting that much, she might as well make the performance perfect." She lifts a high-heeled foot before crushing Mia's fingers, which were attempting to curl around Lorenzo's pant leg. Poor Mia was in so much pain, yet she couldn't let out a single sound. All she could do was scream silently into the void with her mouth wide open. I kneeled on the floor, my forehead already bleeding from smashing it against the floor repeatedly. "Lorenzo Volpe, Mia is your flesh and blood! Please, I'm begging you! Give me some medicine or call a doctor!" But Lorenzo just looks at me coldly, as though he's looking at trash. "A bastard like her is better off dead. Elena Corleone, stop using such underhanded methods to spoil everyone's mood." At that moment, what little love I still harbor for this man completely dissipates as I feel Mia's heartbeat gradually weaken. I no longer beg him for help. With trembling hands, I press the button on the emergency transmitter that I've sworn I'd never touch. That transmitter is the direct line to the highest authority in Smeraldia—my father, Don Vito Corleone.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"