His Matriarch, Her Seraphim

I understood now. Bianca was less Felice's woman and more of a shrewd manipulator who knew exactly how to provoke his pathetic pride.

He thought I was just a pretty face, probably because she had been whispering poison in his ear.

I pitied him. "How do you want me to compensate you?"

Felice sneered, adjusting his cuffs. "Call my father and tell him you're unworthy of the Giordano family and are voluntarily calling off the marriage."

I nodded readily, without a trace of hesitation. "Fine."

With that, I took out my phone and scrolled through my contacts.

Felice shot me a surprised glance, not expecting me to be so decisive, and pressed his lips together. "You'd better think this through. Once you make this call, the wealth and power of the Giordano family will be beyond your reach."

I didn't respond, immediately finding Vincenzo's private number and preparing to dial.

"That's not enough! I want her to kiss the tip of my shoe in front of everyone and apologize to me!" Bianca suddenly shrieked, seeing the tide turning in her favor and wanting to crush me completely. "Felice, I've given so much for you. I earned everything I have myself. I simply cannot accept the way she bullied and humiliated me just now. If she doesn't kneel and apologize, I will never forgive her!"

A bitter laugh bubbled in my throat. A group of fully armed Soldati were standing right there. Who was bullying whom?

I asked, "Bianca, do you think everyone here is stupid enough to believe your twisted version of the truth? You ordered them to hold me down and even tried to cut my face with a dagger, and now you're claiming I bullied you?"

Felice stepped forward, roughly grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up, shielding Bianca behind him. "You must have provoked Bianca first. She was just trying to protect herself. If you have any basic human decency, you should apologize to her immediately. If you refuse, I'll have no choice but to personally break your legs and teach you how to speak to my woman."

He glanced at the Soldati, who, upon receiving the command, moved their hands toward the guns at their waists, staring at me menacingly.

"Is this how the Giordano family treats its guests?"

A tall figure emerged from the crowd. The Don of the Volkov family, Nikolai Volkov.

He strode toward us, his expression unreadable as the crowd melted away before him. He came straight to me, shielding me behind him. His gray-blue eyes, cold as a winter sky, surveyed the scene before he spoke.

The Giordano family was the Italian Mafia, while the Volkov family was the Russian Bratva. They were arch-rivals in the Chicago underworld, having fought covertly for a decade over control of the docks and casinos.

Nikolai had taken over his family early on and was known for his ruthless methods—so ruthless that even Felice had always been wary of him, hoping to avoid a premature all-out war.

But because of my "Seraphim" system, the Giordano family's intelligence network had begun to surpass the Volkovs', which gave Felice a new sense of confidence.

Felice was surprised to see Nikolai on his turf. But he quickly regained his arrogance; after all, this was his home ground. He then frowned with displeasure and said, "Volkov, you must have too much time on your hands. Not only do you grace your arch-rival's alliance dinner with your presence, but you also want to meddle in my family affairs? What, here to scrounge for a drink?"

I stood there in equal shock. I stared at Nikolai's broad back, a solid wall standing between me and all the malice.

We had worked together before. I remembered a few years ago when he had made me witness a bloody execution and then appeared like a phantom in what I thought was my safest hideout.

Back then, I had been so terrified by the sheer danger and wildness in him that I fled the city overnight.

I never imagined that here, in the hostile Giordano estate, it would be this "monster" who once terrified me who would step up to protect me.