The Politics of Desire

"Do as Don Allen says!" Antonio barked.

Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, pinning Elvira despite how violently she struggled. They dragged her into the study.

Camilla entered holding a thick riding whip, satisfaction and cruelty flickering across her face. She had been waiting far too long to teach Elvira a lesson.

"You brat. Just like your dead mother, you never seem to know your place. Today, I'll discipline you on your father's behalf."

She swung the whip, the strike landing hard across Elvira's back.

A sharp burst of pain shot through her, the severity of it making her vision go dark for a moment. She clenched her jaw and bit down on her lip, refusing to let a single sound escape.

Even if she was going to die, she wouldn't give them the pleasure of seeing her break.

Camilla struck her again, then again. Years of resentment fueled every blow. Each lash felt like Elvira's flesh was being torn apart, the pain driving tremors through her entire body as cold sweat soaked her clothes.

Her awareness blurred, but memories surfaced on their own. Vincent had once sensed the tension between her and Camilla and asked, "Do you need me to take care of it?"

She remembered sneaking to her mother's grave late at night, and he had somehow found her and wrapped her in his coat in the pouring rain before sending her home.

She remembered those rare moments of tenderness she once believed meant he cared.

Back then, had he ever imagined a day he would force her into a situation like this?

Blood filled her throat. She coughed, then a low, broken laugh escaped her.

Camilla shuddered at the sound and grew furious. "What are you laughing at, bitch?"

"I'm laughing because you and your daughter will always be picking up somebody else's..."

She lifted her face, streaked with sweat and blood, eyes blazing as she spat out each word like poison. "Trash."

"You little…"

Camilla shook with anger. She threw the whip aside and shouted toward a housekeeper, "Bring the electric baton!"

"No, Mrs. Corleone. You mustn't! Ms. Elvira will die," Martha Leavitt, Elvira's maid, pleaded.

Marta had been brought here by Elvira's mother. She had watched Elvira grow up and had always been loyal to her.

"Get out of my way."

Camilla shoved Martha aside, grabbed the electric baton from a bodyguard, and swung it into Elvira's body.

The electric shock shot through her, forcing a strained groan from her throat. Elvira clearly heard something crack inside her chest.

Blood sputtered from her mouth, and she fainted.

…

When Elvira opened her eyes again, she was lying in her own bed. Her body ached everywhere, so intensely it felt as if she had been crushed.

Martha was secretly applying medicine to her wounds, wiping tears from her cheeks as she whispered, "Ms. Elvira, please just give in to Don Corleone. You don't have to suffer like this."

Elvira's voice was hoarse as she shook her head. "Give in to him? If I bend to this family, they'll leave nothing of me."

She paused and gave a faint smile that looked more painful than crying. "It's just a beating. Elena now has a wound, too. It's fair. I can handle it."

She reached under her pillow, pulled out a bank card, and pressed it into Martha's hand. "Take this. I'm leaving the country soon, and I won't be back. You belong to my mother. Once I'm gone, they won't treat you well. This is enough for your retirement. Quit and leave."

Martha stared at the card, then at the injured Elvira, her tears falling uncontrollably. She tried to bow, but Elvira quickly stopped her.

"Martha, I feel like having the mushroom soup you used to make," she said weakly, a trace of her younger self in her tone.

"Alright, I'll make some right away."

Martha wiped her tears and hurried off to the kitchen.

Once the room was quiet again, Elvira gritted her teeth through the pain and packed her luggage. She gathered every gift Vincent had given her.

He didn't love her, but he was extremely generous. The jewelry and luxury car keys were bought with dirty money and were worth hundreds of millions.

She had originally wanted to throw everything away, but changed her mind and decided to auction them off instead.

She knew there was a "charity auction" tonight at a high-end club controlled by her family, a place mainly used for laundering money.

As evening fell, Elvira carried several large suitcases into the club.

After delivering the items to the auction handlers, she turned around and saw Vincent and Elena walking in together. Elena leaned close to Vincent, and when she spotted Elvira, a hint of pride and provocation flashed through her eyes.

Elvira paid them no heed. She was about to find a seat when a drunk man approached her. He was an Associate from a minor family who had long been thinking about her.

"Ms. Corleone, it must be lonely sitting here by yourself. Let me keep you company."

He reached for her waist as he spoke.

Elvira pushed him away. "Get lost!"

The next second, the man was kicked aside and quickly dragged out by the staff. Elvira recognized the person who struck—Vincent's personal bodyguard.

She instinctively looked toward Vincent. The lighting was dim, making his expression unclear. He still had an arm around Elena, as if none of this had anything to do with him.

The lights brightened, and the auction began.

The first item presented was Elvira's jewelry. The starting price was 10 million dollars, shocking the entire room. Vincent recognized them immediately, his gaze sharpening.

Elena tugged his sleeve. "Vincent, that necklace is so pretty. I like it."

He remained silent for a moment before raising his paddle. The entire lot of jewelry ended up being sold to him for 100 million dollars, and he gifted it all to Elena.

Elvira snickered inwardly. It was the most ironic form of returning things to their rightful owner.