When the Don's Pride Crumbled at My Feet

To marry his first love, my fiancé exposed my father’s identity as an undercover agent, leading to him being tortured and hanged for a full day and night. Finally he was thrown into an iron cage and burned to death.

I went mad with grief and swore revenge on my fiancé. That was when Vincenzo Costa, the Godfather of Sicily, returned from overseas with a grand procession. Using his influence, he hired the best legal team to seek justice for my father and promised to clear his name.

I believed him.

After the funeral, I broke off my engagement with Raffaele and married the man who had stood by me through my darkest hour.

Five years later, I accidentally overheard a conversation that shattered my whole world.

“Alessandra always looks like she wants to rip me apart every time she sees me,” Raffaele said, his tone smug.

“But,” Raffaele’s voice darkened, “what do you think would happen if that shameless woman found out that the one who sold out her father was the man she sleeps next to every night?”

My hand froze on the door handle.

“You’re ruthless, Vincenzo,” Raffaele’s voice dripped with venom. “You really do deserve that title.”

He kept going, a twisted satisfaction in his tone.

“Alessandra treated you like a brother when you were kids. And when you grew up, she gave herself to you completely. Do you think she’d ever suspect that the man she loves—the man she sleeps with every night—is the same man who handed her father over to be slaughtered?”

——

My hand trembled on the door handle as Raffaele’s mocking voice cut through the heavy air.

“You said she massages you, takes care of you, worships you. if she could cut open her chest and give you her heart, she would. But don’t you think she’d skin you alive if she knew what you did to her father?”

“Enough,” Vincenzo’s voice was cold, razor-sharp.

Raffaele chuckled. “Oh? So the ruthless Godfather of Sicily has a heart after all?”

He scoffed. “You pushed the man who raised you—the man you called uncle—straight to his death to please Bianca.”

The sound of a wine bottle shattering made me flinch. Vincenzo’s voice, low and dangerous, followed.

“Stay out of it.”

The sound of a bottle smashing against the table made me flinch.

“What I did to Alessandra and Uncle Ruso is a debt I’ll carry to my grave. But I had to do it. I had to do it so Bianca could survive. If you so much as lay a finger on her, I’ll make your life worse than death.”

“Oh, the great Godfather really loves Bianca, huh?” Raffaele’s tone was mocking.

“How touching,” Raffaele scoffed. “But do you think Bianca cares about you? To her, you're just a bloody person.”

“You’d better keep playing nice with Alessandra,” Raffaele went on. “Because to her, you’re her savior. Too bad she has no idea you’re her worst nightmare.”

The sharp sound of glass shattering rang through the air.

My whole body shook with rage as I stumbled toward the rooftop bar. I normally couldn’t tolerate alcohol, but I downed my entire glass of whiskey in one go. It burned my throat, making me choke and spill tears down my cheeks.

The conversation I had just overheard echoed in my mind.

So the one who betrayed my father wasn’t Raffaele.

It was Vincenzo—the man who fought for justice for my father. The charred, mutilated corpse I saw that day… was because of him.

No wonder he looked so calm at the funeral, staring at my father’s remains with that cold expression. I was so stupid to think he was just overwhelmed by grief and anger. Turns out, the man I’ve been sharing my bed with for years—the man I trusted—was the executioner all along.

All those years of warmth and tenderness were just a cover—a calculated act to ease his guilt and keep me blind.

I was a fool.

Hatred boiled in my chest. My hand clenched around the crystal glass just as Vincenzo suddenly appeared behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his face into the curve of my neck .

“Sandra, where have you been?” His voice was heavy with alcohol. “I missed you… Let’s go home.”

For years, every time he was drunk, he’d pull me into his arms and tell me he loved me over and over.

Chapter 2

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.”

Chapter 3

I laid Vincenzo down on the bed without bothering to take off his shoes and socks like I usually did. Without saying a word, I left the room and headed straight to the guest bedroom.

As I closed my eyes, my mind was flooded with memories of how he had spoiled me over the years.

***

Morning light streamed through the glass, warming my face. When I opened my eyes, I found Vincenzo’s gaze fixed on me, intense and focused.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Were you upset because last night? I'm sorry. I had too much to drink at the family meeting. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Soft and gentle, as always. I murmured a response and slipped into the bathroom, scrubbing his scent from my skin.

The breakfast table was loaded with a spread of beautifully prepared Italian dishes. There was a time when I would’ve been touched by such a gesture. But after seeing his phone, I couldn’t even force a smile. Every single dish on that table was Bianca’s favorite.

The doorbell rang and Bianca walked in, wearing a high-end designer dress fresh from the latest collection. She sat down at the table like she owned the place, smiling at me.

“Sorry to barge in, Sandra,” she said sweetly. “The boss and I are meeting with a supplier this morning and he told me to come here for breakfast.”

My gaze dropped to the keycard in her hand — the highest-level access card, identical to mine.

Vincenzo noticed the tension in the air and leaned in to explain, his voice low and soothing. “Bianca is part of the family. It’s normal for her to have access to the estate.”

Before he could finish, he suddenly stood up, alarm flashing in his eyes. He grabbed the hot coffee cup from Bianca’s hand.

“You have low blood pressure. You can’t drink espresso,” he scolded. “After all these years, you’re still so careless,” he shook his head.

Bianca smiled coyly. “Yeah, good thing you always remember.”

They locked eyes and it was as if the whole room had frozen.

I stood to leave, but Bianca’s voice stopped me.

“Sandra, the body restoration today requires professional documentation. Can you handle the photography? I don’t trust the new forensic guy.”

After my father’s brutal death, I hadn’t picked up a camera since. Every time I looked through a lens, I remembered how he had taught me to snap evidence in an instant — remembered the agony in his eyes as he was tortured.

Vincenzo knew this.

That’s why he had locked away all my photography equipment, telling me to wait until I was ready. But now, without even asking, he shoved me into the back seat of the bulletproof SUV.

“Sandra, can you sit in the back? You know Bianca gets carsick.”

He’d forgotten. After years of running for my life, my motion sickness was far worse than Bianca’s.

The bumpy ride left my stomach churning.

When we arrived at the morgue, Vincenzo personally checked Bianca’s protective gear, helping her adjust it with meticulous care before leading her into the restoration room. I leaned against the car door, struggling to catch my breath and calm the dizziness.

“Hurry up, Sandra. The restoration is about to start. Stop being difficult,” Vincenzo said, grabbing my arm. “This documentation is critical for both Bia and the family.”

My balance wavered as he pushed me inside and my equipment nearly slipped from my hands.

Five years. Five years since I last held a camera. Fear wrapped around me like a steel vice. My hands trembled so badly, I could barely press the shutter. But I forced myself to breathe, to focus. I began methodically documenting the restoration process. As we reached half the process, Vincenzo left—leaving only Bianca and me in the room. She glanced at my photos with a cold smirk curling her lips.

“Isn't it pathetic how useless you are, just like your father, Alessandra?” her voice dripped with contempt. “The audacity to infiltrate the mafia, only to fail at keeping your cover.”

“The daughter of a traitor like you,” Bianca’s smile sharpened, “doesn’t deserve to stand beside the Godfather of Sicily.”

Then came the sharp crack of skin against skin. My head snapped to the side as a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Bianca had slapped me.

My breath hitched. My hands tightened around the camera until my knuckles turned white, fury burning beneath my skin.

Bianca’s eyes glittered with malice. “I didn’t think you’d be so pathetic. The second Raffaele tossed you aside, you latched onto Vincenzo like some desperate stray.”

My face burned, but I held my ground.

Chapter 4

“You’ll never be good enough for them,” Bianca’s voice was low and venomous. “Not for Raffaele. Not for Vincenzo. They’ve always been mine.”

My cheek burned, but before I could react, Bianca suddenly grabbed my arm and threw herself to the ground.

She curled up on the floor, tears welling in her eyes as she bit her lip.

“I wasn’t saying your photos were bad. I just want to suggest you to try a different angle,” her voice wobbled as her gaze flicked toward the door. “But why you… never mind.”

The door burst open.

Vincenzo stormed in, dropping a water bottle to the floor. His eyes flared with rage as he rushed to Bianca’s side.

“I’m okay, Vince,” she murmured, voice trembling. “Please, don’t blame Sandra. I... I just trip.”

“You don’t need to cover for her, Bianca. I saw everything,” Vincenzo said darkly. He helped Bianca to her feet like she was made of glass, his touch tender and careful. Then his gaze sharpened, cutting into me with icy fury.

“Apologize, Alessandra!” he barked. “Have I been too soft on you, letting you think you can get away with hurting your own partner? Do you have any idea what’ll happen to the business if she gets hurt?”

I returned his gaze with the same coldness.

“She should be the one apologizing,” I said calmly. “She insulted my father. And didn’t you promise you’d always stand by me, husband?”

A flicker of panic flashed in his eyes.

“Why bring it up now? I did promise your father I’d protect you,” he said. “But not when you hurt Bianca.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Finally, I saw him for what he truly was.

Then, a wave of dizziness struck me. My legs gave out beneath me and everything faded to black.

***

I woke up to the sterile scent of disinfectant stinging my nose. A family doctor stood beside the bed, packing up her instruments.

“Congratulations,” she said brightly. “You're pregnant. You're in good health, but you’ll need to take care of yourself and avoid stress.”

My hand drifted to my stomach.

For five years, I had dreamed of having a child with Vincenzo. I just never thought it would happen now—of all times.

My private phone vibrated. It was a message from Vincenzo:

[The doctor said you just need to rest.]

[Once you apologize to Bianca, I’ll send someone to pick you up.]

I smiled bitterly and powered off my phone.

“Madam, the Don has arranged for another check-up. Please come with me.”

As I followed the doctor toward a side room, I felt a strange sense of unease.

Bianca’s voice suddenly echoed from behind me, “I heard you’re pregnant? Looks like I underestimated you.” Her tone was laced with venom. “Do you know why you haven’t been able to get pregnant these past five years?”

I turned around and met her smug gaze.

“It’s because I told Vince that a child of yours would threaten his position in the mafia.”

“Those calcium supplements he’s been giving you every day?” Bianca leaned in closer, her voice dripping with malice. “They were birth control pills.”

She watched me carefully, waiting for me to break. But I didn’t give her the satisfaction.

With a void expression in my face, I said, “Whatever.”

I turned to leave, but suddenly, a powerful force struck me from behind. I tumbled down the marble steps, completely unprepared for the impact.

Pain exploded through my body as blood pooled beneath me, staining the expensive carpet. I lost our baby.

After the surgery, I left the divorce papers on the nightstand. Without looking back, I walked out of the family’s private hospital and headed straight for the airport.

Just before the plane took off, Vincenzo’s last text came through:

[I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to offend Bianca. You’re completely lacking the grace of a Don’s wife.]

[Swallow your pride and apologize!]

I crushed my SIM card and tossed it into the airport trash can.