The Madre's Superglue Revenge

On the day my sight returned, our family doctor, Anna Leone, stood right in front of me and mouthed to my husband, Don Marco Vitale, "Double the lubricant tonight. I promise it'll send you straight to heaven, my Don."

Marco pressed a gentle kiss to my eyes. Then he turned away and replied with the same silent lip movements, "You little tease. That mouth of yours—and the one below—I'm crazy about them both."

The two of them exchanged a knowing smile, convinced their secret was flawless.

What they didn't know was that not only had my vision fully recovered—I was also fluent in lip-reading.

My gaze drifted to the bottle of lubricant sitting brazenly in the wall cabinet.

I said nothing.

Instead, I quietly sent a single text message: [Papa, I've decided to come home.]

In three days, I would vanish completely.

All I would leave behind for them would be the hollowed-out fortune of billions—and that bottle of "lubricant" I had replaced with high-strength industrial superglue.

Anne Leone's full breasts nearly pressed against Marco Vitale's face, one hand sliding suggestively up along the inside of his thigh.

Marco didn't push her away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes in enjoyment and even reached back to give Anna's waist a squeeze.

Then he gently stroked my long hair, his voice as tender as ever. "Camilla, be a good girl and get some sleep. There's an urgent matter at the company. I'll go work in the study for a while."

For five years, he had been acting in front of me.

If my sight hadn't returned—if I didn't understand lip-reading—I probably would never have known that the affection he showed me had long since rotted and begun to breed maggots.

Anna stood at the foot of the bed. The lace nightgown she wore was skimpy. It was identical to the birthday gift Marco had given me just last month.

She tugged the neckline open, exposing a wide stretch of pale skin, then winked at him and mouthed, "Camilla can't bring out the flavor of this dress."

Marco squeezed her breast and silently replied, "Because she's flat, unlike you."

This was the man the outside world praised as the "perfect husband" after I lost my sight.

This was the man I had loved for seventeen years—the boy who had grown up beside me since childhood.

He had forgotten that when he lost everything in the family's internal power struggle, it was I who mobilized every resource under my name to support him.

He had forgotten that to marry him, I severed ties with my own father and gave up everything I was born into—the name, the power, the legacy of the Steinrope continent's most powerful Mafia Family.

He had forgotten that all these years, I had stood beside him through bloodshed and danger, helping him climb to the position of Don.

I had even gone blind in one "enemy retaliation" attack while saving his life.

Back then, Marco had promised, "Camilla, from now