Abandoned by My Husband, I Chose To Become the Don

Before the day of my husband's succession as the Don, my stepsister personally tattooed the "Inverted Angel's Eye"—the mark of a traitor—onto my back.

My husband didn't just turn a blind eye; when the family vendetta broke out, he withdrew all the elite guards to protect my "pregnant" stepsister, leaving me alone in a defenseless city to face the slaughter. 

"Elena, you are strong enough to protect yourself. But Sophia is fragile, and she is carrying my firstborn. She needs the protection more than you."

Facing a siege of heavy firepower, I survived by the skin of my teeth.

He thought I would swallow the insult for the sake of the family's reputation.

He didn't expect that I would kick open the doors of his coronation ceremony wearing mourning weeds, flanked by the FBI and the Commission, and personally strip him of his title.

"Goodbye, Lorenzo. This time, I choose to be the Don."

Before the day when Lorenzo officially ascends as the Don, as his lawful wife, I must undergo the baptism of family glory at this sacred moment.

Sophia, my stepsister—the "Principessa" adopted by my father—insisted on personally tattooing the "Angel's Eye," the symbol of supreme family authority, onto my back.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped. I looked into the floor-to-ceiling mirror, and my blood instantly froze.

The "Angel's Eye," which should have been looking down upon the masses, was inverted.

In the Code of Omertà, an inverted totem has only one meaning—a police informant, a rat.

Seeing the color drain from my face, Sophia peeled off her rubber gloves and blew the ink off the nozzle with a look of utter innocence.

"It's called deconstructionist art, Elena. Don't tell me you have zero taste?"

I grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table and smashed it at her.

The glass shattered against the wall, shards grazing Sophia's cheek.

In the next second, Lorenzo's powerful hand clamped around my wrist, shielding Sophia behind him.

His brows were furrowed, his eyes filled with warning.

"Sophia is our Principessa. She's just creating art. Have you lost your mind?"

I stared dead into Lorenzo's eyes.

This was the man I had loved for twelve years. Yet in this moment, he chose to be blind to the brand of shame on my back—a mark that warranted the death penalty by family law.

Sophia peeked out from behind him, a smirk of triumph on her lips, but her voice was dripping with feigned vulnerability.

"Lorenzo, you said you liked designs with a rebellious spirit. I just wanted to give her a surprise. Why is she treating me like this?"

My hands were trembling.

Before I could question him, the heavy oak doors of the study were pushed open.

Several Capos in black trench coats walked in, laughing.

"Are the Don-to-be and the Signora preparing for tomorrow's ritual?"

"The unity of the Corleone family is the bedrock of our rule over the European underworld."

"We heard the Signora is receiving the totem of