The Don’s Regret

I didn’t say that last sentence out loud.

Instead, I turned around and drove directly to the embassy.

The process of applying for permanent residency in Sicily wasn’t complicated, especially for someone with my family background.

Years ago, the Rossi family had already transferred all of its businesses back to Sicily. Only I remained here, staying behind for Vincenzo.

Now, I was leaving too.

“Ms. Rossi, the procedures will take about a week,” the staff member said with a polite smile.

I nodded, took the receipt, and walked out of the embassy.

It was finally coming to an end.

Vincenzo, the man I had chased for six full years, was never meant to belong to me.

I had given so much for him, even wearing down my naturally bold personality.

All of it was just to get a little closer to him. And in the end, I couldn’t even touch the most hidden desire in his heart.

I lowered my head and looked at the receipt in my hand, smiling lightly, though there was a faint ache in my chest.

“Forget it, Vincenzo. If you don’t like me, there are plenty of people who will.”

That night, I asked a group of close friends out to the underground casino, Purgatory.

The air inside Purgatory was always mixed with the smoked scent of cigars, the sharp clatter of chips colliding, and the low whispers of mafia men negotiating deals.

The dark-patterned mirror behind the bar was a disguise. Push it open, and it led straight to the family clinic through a hidden door. This was the heart of the Corleone family’s filth and corruption.

Ever since marrying Vincenzo, I hadn’t been to a place like this in a long time.

I wore a black, tight-fitting slip dress. The zipper at the back was pulled down to my waist, deliberately revealing the bullet scar below my shoulder blade.

There was a long-lost arrogance in my gaze.

With chips between my fingers, I paused for two seconds at the betting table. I skipped past the Corleone-controlled “Ace of Spades” area and slammed the chips onto the opposing table, “King of Hearts”.

“Five thousand dollars. King of Hearts wins!”

The surrounding area went quiet for a moment. Several men in black suits cast cold looks in my direction.

I lifted my gaze toward the private boxes on the second floor.

Vincenzo was leaning against a leather couch, idly rotating a whiskey glass between his fingers. His eyes landed on me through the haze of smoke.

His underboss, Michael, leaned closer and said with a teasing tone, “Don Corleone, looks like Ms. Rossi is teaming up with outsiders to bleed our territory.”

Vincenzo didn’t move. He simply drained the whiskey in his glass, the cold liquid sliding down his throat.

“She knows her limits. Bring her up.” His tone was flat, as if commenting on the weather.

As soon as those words fell, crisp footsteps echoed from the entrance.

Sophia walked in arm-in-arm with two men in floral shirts, low-level members of the rival Valentino family.

She toyed with a diamond-studded handgun, a “V” engraved on the grip. Anyone with eyes knew Vincenzo had given it to her.

“Vincenzo, I brought you some documents.” She waved the diamond gun casually.

Her gaze paused when it landed on me. Noticing that Vincenzo was staring at my exposed back, her expression darkened instantly.

Vincenzo strode over and grabbed Sophia’s wrist. His voice was terrifyingly cold. “Who let you come to a place like this? And who allowed you to associate with people like them?!”

Sophia froze for a moment, then her eyes reddened. “Why can’t I be here? And why can’t I give my contact information to others? Vincenzo, didn’t you stop caring about me? So what does anything I do have to do with you?”

Vincenzo’s fingers tightened, his knuckles turning white. His voice sank sharply. “Who said I don’t care about you?”

“You just don’t!” Sophia’s voice trembled with tears. “You avoid me every day. You don’t see me anymore. Vincenzo, you used to treat me so well. Why did everything suddenly change one day?”

Hearing this, Vincenzo’s Adam’s apple shifted slightly. His voice carried suppressed emotion.

“That’s because…”

After being escorted upstairs by Michael, I stood aside, feeling as if something had gripped my heart tightly.

She knew he couldn’t say it.

How could he?

Was he supposed to say that he, Vincenzo, liked her, and that’s why he avoided her? From the moment he saw her, he would completely lose control?

Perhaps he should say that because he loved her too much, he left his wife of two years untouched and instead custom-made a lifelike doll identical to her to ease his longing?

I let out a self-mocking smile and turned to leave, only to hear Sophia crying out behind me.

“Vincenzo, can we go back to how things were before? I want my brother back, whose eyes only ever saw me!”

Vincenzo’s voice was low and hoarse. “I’m married now. I can’t revolve around you alone anymore.”

“Then if she disappears, can we go back to how things were?”

Sophia suddenly looked up, a hint of madness in her eyes.

I had just lifted my bag to leave when I saw Sophia grab a wine bottle from the table and stride toward me.

“Bang!”

The bottle smashed down hard on my head. The sound of shattering glass exploded in my ears, and warm liquid streamed down from my temple.

“You don’t deserve the title of a Corleone woman!” she screamed. Her other hand pulled out a compact taser, the metal prongs gleaming coldly as she pressed it hard against my neck.

The current surged through my body instantly.

I convulsed and collapsed to the ground.

The blood from my forehead mixed with cold sweat soaked my dress. As my consciousness faded, I saw Sophia stepping on my hand, looking down at me with a smile.

“Ella, know your place. Don’t take what’s mine.”

In the chaos, someone rushed over. I thought they were trying to stop it, but then I heard Vincenzo’s voice.

He didn’t look at me lying in a pool of blood. Instead, he crouched down and pulled the trembling Sophia into his arms, his palm gently patting her back.

“Don’t be afraid. You weren’t scared, were you?”

Sophia buried her face in his chest and cried. “Vincenzo, was I too impulsive?”

“It’s fine. I know.” Vincenzo lifted his head and coldly ordered Michael. His gaze swept over me without the slightest warmth. “Drag Ella to the clinic. Don’t let her die.”

Michael came over to lift me. His rough hand grabbed my arm, and I could feel blood dripping down along my skin.

The lights in the private room were blinding. All I could hear was Sophia still crying, and Vincenzo’s voice, sharp as a blade quenched in ice, piercing the last part of my heart that hadn’t completely gone cold yet.