Chapter 2

"From now on, I'll only be home one day a week. Can you understand that?"

She had abandoned our son on the most important day of his life.

She carried another man's child.

She went off on a romantic getaway as if nothing had happened.

And now she wanted my understanding?

Looking at the arrogant glint in her eyes, I suddenly wondered—how had I loved this woman for twenty years?

I calmly set the dissolution of the blood pact I had prepared in advance on the table. The paper lay there between us on the polished walnut, quiet as a loaded gun.

"Sign it," I said coldly. "Then you and Rocco can live happily ever after."

Regina's expression changed. Her face twisted with disdain.

"I must've spoiled you too much. Now this useless in-law of mine thinks he's someone important. Without me, your whole bloodline would be begging on the streets, without a single family in this city willing to say your name."

I couldn't help but laugh.

She really believed the Falcone name had risen because of her? She really thought I had been living off her tribute all these years, that every soldier who bowed in this house bowed to her?

I didn't bother correcting her delusions. I simply said, "I'm determined to end this alliance."

Seeing I was serious, Regina flew into a rage.

"What the hell are you talking about? Our son would never agree to break this pact."

She snatched the papers off the table and smoothed the front of her dress with both palms, the way she always did before she decided her cruelty was simply fate.

"If you want out, fine—let our son come and tell me himself!"

Then she stormed off, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

In the past, whenever she lost her temper, I would fold my hands in my lap and swallow my pride and give in.

But not this time.

I signed the dissolution on the spot and walked away without looking back.

The next day, I went to the funeral home to see my son's coffin.

I planned to carry him back to the old Castellano estate in New York and bury him there—at home, on our own ground, where he belonged.

Just as I was about to leave, my phone rang.

It was Regina.

"You can sulk all you want," she snapped, "but don't keep my son out all night. Tonight is the thirtieth-year sit-down for the Falcone Family. Every allied family will be there, every Capo. I'm going to have him anointed as the successor before all of them. Bring him here immediately."

I stared at my son laid stiff and still under the cheap lights, then replied evenly, "Alright. I'll bring him over right away."

Back then, I had met Regina in college.

She was cornered on the rooftop by a gang of arrogant young women, daughters of prominent New York families, girls born into names that made doormen straighten and waiters go quiet.

Even as they beat her, she clenched her teeth and refused to beg for mercy.

Bloody, bruised and trembling—she still stood tall.

I thought she had backbone.

So I stepped forward.

The girls looked up and met my eyes—and fled as if they'd seen a ghost. They didn't know my face, but something older than knowledge told them to run.

Regina looked at me, stunned.

Then she pulled herself to her feet, pain etched in every movement.

With effort, she warned me, "Those girls are dangerous. Their fathers own half this city. Don't come up to the rooftop again. Don't give them a reason to target you."

Even after everything, she was still worried about others.

I couldn't help but smile.

"They wouldn't dare touch me," I said casually.

She glanced at my plain clothes and scoffed.

"Don't kid yourself. Those girls come from real families, with real power behind them and men who answer their calls. Why would they be afraid of you?"

"I don't look down on ordinary people. But don't flatter yourself."

Her sharp tongue amused me. I didn't explain.

Later, I found out she came from a fallen third-rate bloodline. Her father had put a gun to his own head under the weight of debt and vendetta.

She had clawed her way into New York University, hoping to raise her family's dead name from the dirt.

She had learned to survive among arrogant, spoiled heiresses who could have had her erased with a word.

I admired her spirit—resilient, self-reliant, fierce.

We started talking more. Slowly, we grew close.

She could be kind—genuinely kind.

When I skipped breakfast, she would quietly hand me half of hers.

If I had a stomachache, she'd bring me warm water and medicine without being asked.

And when I was in a dark place, she'd tell corny jokes just to make me smile.

Back then, I thought I'd found someone rare.

Someone worth everything.