The Don’s Biggest Regret

I hung up the call and didn't look at him.

"I was just talking to a friend."

He stared at me suspiciously, then noticed the agreement in my hand and instinctively reached for it.

Just as I was thinking about how to brush him off, his phone rang.

"Don Rossi, doesn't this spaghetti-strap dress look a lot like the color of your eyes?" A sweet voice message from Sofia came through.

His expression immediately softened, and he sent a voice message back.

"It looks beautiful. Wear that one tomorrow."

I couldn't be bothered listening to them flirt, so I got out of bed with the agreement in hand.

He stopped me, sounding somewhat displeased.

"I came back tonight specifically to spend time with you. Where are you going?"

I answered casually, "The study. I still have some work to finish."

His expression darkened further as he began lecturing me.

"What's up with your efficiency lately? I've told you to get some rest and stop bringing family business home. Is your principessa syndrome acting up again? Did you spend the day slacking off?"

I casually responded with an "Mm,” opened the door, and left.

Behind me came the sound of glass shattering.

Back in the study, I carefully went through the email my mother had just sent.

Five years had passed, and both the family's personnel and sphere of influence had changed. Before going back, I needed to familiarize myself with everything again.

Just as I was about to finish, he knocked on the door.

The smell of alcohol lingered around him.

"Come back to bed. It's late."

I turned off the iPad and didn't move.

"If you have something to say, just say it. You don't have to pretend to care about me."

He clearly hadn't expected such a cold response and paused for a moment.

"Is that really how you see me? Forget it then. There is something I need to tell you.

"Sofia secured an important partnership, and I want to reward her with several ports so the other members have an example to follow."

I nodded. "It's your business. Handle it however you want."

A strange look appeared on his face, almost as though he were trying to explain himself.

"You haven't been attending negotiations lately, and your work efficiency has been low. There's no point in keeping those ports under your control. Tomorrow, hand everything over to Sofia. Once you're back to normal, I'll return them to you.

"As my future donna, if you're holding power but not doing any work, people will talk. I'm doing this for your own good."

I glanced at the termination agreement lying on the desk and almost laughed.

Seeing my silence, he assumed I was about to argue again, and his tone became colder.

"The notice has already been sent out. Even if you disagree, I have ways of making the transfer happen. Be good. I don't want to be too forceful."

The pattern was far too familiar.

First came the excuse, then the suppression, and finally, the threat.

Every single time, it was for Sofia's benefit.

I answered casually, "I never said no."

His brows relaxed. "Good. Then it's settled. We'll handle it tomorrow. Stop working and come back to bed."

Antonio grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the door without waiting for a response.

As we passed the photo wall, he suddenly stopped.

"Why is this empty?"

The wall had once been covered with photographs of us.

From the first time we met, to our engagement ceremony, to every family celebration afterward.

Every photo had been a reminder of how deeply I had loved him and how desperately I had wanted to become his donna.

He had always mocked them as "pointless romance”.

They were also the first things I got rid of.

"I put them away," I answered casually.

"What?" he turned sharply to stare at me.

"Who gave you permission to take them down?"

I looked calmly at him.

"I took those photos. If I want to put them away, I can."

"Yours?" he sneered. "Isabelle, everything in this estate belongs to me. Including you. What gives you the right to take them down without my permission?"

Annoyed, I shook off his hand. "What's the problem? Weren't you always saying how much you hated those photos?"

He froze.

The alcohol seemed to slow his reaction, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

"You've changed." He stared at me as though examining something that had gone wrong.

"You're acting up again."

"I've always been like this," I replied evenly. "You just never cared before."

"But I care!” he growled. "I care more than you can imagine! Everything I'm doing is for you!"

"For me?"

At last, I laughed, full of mockery.

"Sleeping around with Sofia is for me? Taking her to committee meetings is for me? Giving her everything that belonged to me, is that for me too?"

"You don't understand!"

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"You're too spoiled, too willful. Someone like you can't be the donna of the Rossi family. I'm trying to help you fix those flaws."

"So you're using another woman to humiliate me?"

"That's not humiliation. It's discipline!" he shouted.

"As long as you learn patience, learn generosity, learn to—"

"Learn to wag my tail like a dog begging for your approval?" I cut him off.

He went rigid.

So I walked around him and left the study.

He called my name from behind me, but I didn't look back.

At the next morning's meeting, he deliberately avoided looking at me as he announced the removal of all my positions and transferred control of the ports to Sofia.

I smiled and applauded.

Yet his expression only became uglier as he wrapped an arm around Sofia's waist and left.

Over the following days, Antonio took Sofia on one high-profile date after another.

While he was spending a fortune to buy her a rare blood diamond, I was copying the Rossi family's confidential files.

By the time rumors about the two of them were everywhere, I had already packed my luggage.

The day he returned, the termination of our engagement officially took effect.

Before leaving, however, his underboss, Marco, handed me a document and insisted that I personally deliver it to Antonio.

To avoid causing any further trouble, I tucked the file under my arm and pushed open the study door.

Through the gap, I saw Antonio reclining against the sofa while Sofia, wearing that spaghetti-strap dress, sat curled up in his arms in an intimate pose.

At the sound of the door opening, both of them turned their heads.

I raised the document in my hand.

"Would you two mind pausing for a moment?"