When the Don's Pride Crumbled at My Feet

They all said the Sicilian Godfather never lied. That when Vincenzo said he loved me, he truly meant it.

But now, all of it made me sick.

I stared blankly as I helped him into the bulletproof car. Vincenzo collapsed onto my lap, his furrowed brows finally relaxing as he drifted off, looking for all the world like an innocent child.

But now, all of it feels disgusting.

“Bianca… why… why. It should have been me.”

At last, I could finally make out the name he’d whispered in countless drunken dreams.

Bianca De Luca. The woman who ruined my life. His first love—the one he could never forget. I had been so naive, underestimating how deep his fixation on Bianca ran. Even after all these years, he was still obsessed with her.

A gold lion-emblazoned satellite phone slipped from his tailored suit pocket. When I picked it up, an encrypted message popped up on the screen.

“Thank you for handling tonight’s conflict with the three families, Godfather. But I can’t accept the Sicilian underground territory you promised. It’s too valuable!”

Right after that came an only-friend post from Bianca: “Only a true queen deserves the crown.”

Attached was a photo of a ruby-studded ring—an ancient relic from the oldest underground family in Sicily. That ring symbolized absolute power.

I knew Bianca wanted me to see it.

Just last week, Vincenzo had been shot during a brutal family clash. The bullet had gone straight through his chest. He’d barely been able to stand and yet he had boarded a plane overseas shortly after, ignoring my pleas to rest. I had thought he was risking his life to defend the family’s honor.

But I was wrong.  He actually went for Bianca’s coronation.

Even with a gunshot wound, he had fought for that ring—for the crown—just to offer it to his first love.

My hands trembled as I typed in his private passcode. My breath hitched when the last digit fell into place and the screen unlocked. It showed Bianca at her birthday party–he made her photo as wallpaper. 

Of course.

Vincenzo never let me touch his private phone—said it was “Godfather’s business.” Her face appeared on the screen, smiling radiantly in a luxurious gown. No wonder his gaze softened every time he turned on his phone.

I opened his gallery. I opened his photo folder. There were albums he named with hers:

Bia at the Opera House, Bia in the Vineyard, Bia’s Coronation.

Thousands of pictures of Bianca, captured at underworld gatherings and grand events—smiling, laughing, glowing. There's not a single photo of me. Not even of him. Only Bianca. Because from the very beginning, his heart had always belonged to her.

The car pulled into the driveway of the old castle. A chill settled into my bones as I stared at the darkened underground vault through the tinted window.

Once, that room had been filled with my father’s crest and the evidence he had gathered during his twenty years undercover in the underground world. Seeing them always made me feel like my father was still out there, carrying out that unfinished mission. But one morning, everything vanished. The police said the evidence had been destroyed anonymously.

Vincenzo had held me as I broke down, staying awake for three days straight, refusing to leave my side.

Now I know—that it was him all along.  He was the one who destroyed the last traces of my father’s legacy.

A new message popped up on the screen:

“Godfather, as per your request, the will has been finalized. All of your Sicilian underground assets and the right to succession will be transferred to Miss Bianca upon your confirmation.”

“Just waiting for your signature.”

“Sandra, I swear on my honor as the Godfather of Sicily—I’ll protect you. I’ll give you home and everything I have is yours.”