You Replaced Me, so I Got an Upgrade

I held the keys and the access card to the family archives and headed to the Rossi family headquarters.

In no mood for dressing up, I simply wore a white dress.

When I pushed open the door, the usual greetings were gone. Those who once called me "Donna" now fell silent, as if by unspoken agreement.

But whispers still reached my ears.

"She still suits Don Rossi best. Ten years, and she's been the only one by his side…"

"Hah! You don't get it. You need a crutch only when you have a broken leg. First thing you do when it heals? You throw it away. Seeing it reminds you of when you couldn't stand!"

I forced a small, bitter smile.

Ten years with Giovanni, and no one had ever dared speak to me like that.

A business partner had dared to touch my hand once. The very next day, Giovanni had his fingers cut off.

If I frowned, he would drop every meeting just to calm me.

All the privileges that came with being favored had now turned into jokes.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed. A shot ripped through the air, grazing the scalp of the one who'd used the crutch metaphor.

Giovanni's expression darkened as he lowered the gun.

"What's going on?" he asked coldly. "I'm gone for a moment, and this place turns into a gossip market? Anyone who didn't know might think Serena Bianchi is your Donna!"

The council room went dead silent.

This was Giovanni's power. But now, that power was pointed at me.

I opened my mouth to bring up leaving, but Lisa poked her head from behind Giovanni and timidly asked, "Giovanni, is this Serena you were talking about?"

She sized me up with feigned innocence, then gasped and covered her mouth. "Oddio! Serena's outfit today… Is she trying to copy me?"

Same white dress and bare face. Her eyes—especially—carried a 60% resemblance to mine when I was 19 years old.

A flicker of doubt crossed Giovanni's eyes as he looked at me. "Serena, did you run a background check on Lisa?"

I was so disappointed in him that I didn't want to talk to him.

When I stayed silent, his doubtful gaze shifted into a mocking sneer. "No matter how much you copy, you're not 19 anymore. If you're leaving, just leave. What's the point of playing these little tricks with me?"

What did he just say?

"Actually, it's fine you're here. Saves me the trouble of looking for you." He pulled out a checkbook, tore a blank check, and tossed it my way.

"Name your price for your ten years of youth."

As I stared at the blank check and his arrogant expression, my mind went utterly blank.

"Giovanni," I called out in a trembling voice. "Say that again."

He put his hands in his pockets and replied, "I said, I'm buying out your last ten years. Plus a little hush money."

Lisa grabbed his sleeve. "Don't do that. You're treating her like some mistress you're just brushing off. Serena has dignity, too."

Giovanni gently pinched her cheek. "I have to take care of this now. That way, no one will whisper behind your back, and you won't get hurt."

Such familiar words. He used to protect me like this.

My stomach churned.

I lowered my gaze to the silver ring on my finger. When I first put it on, it fit perfectly. But over the years, as Giovanni's power grew, his heart drifted farther away.

The ring had dulled along with whatever tiny thread of us remained.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, only calm remained in my expression.

Under Giovanni's casual gaze, I tore the check to shreds. "Giovanni Rossi, you can't afford my ten years of youth, and I don't need you to pay for it."

I lifted my left hand and yanked the ring off with force.

His expression changed instantly.

The pain of yanking off the ring brought back a foggy memory from our third year together.

Giovanni had just secured his place in the family when the deadliest betrayal struck.

I took a knife meant for him. The wound got infected, and my fever wouldn't break. I was awake for barely ten minutes a day. Yet every time, he was there.

"Giovanni," I murmured weakly through the haze, "if I die, don't be sad. Don't drink so much. Eat on time…"

"Shut up!" The normally composed man suddenly erupted in fury.

His eyes were bloodshot. "Don't you dare die!"

That was the first and only time I saw him cry.

Even though he shouldn't have risked it, he stormed into the traitor's hideout with his men, getting seriously hurt himself.

I scolded him for being reckless, but through the pain, he shakily slipped a ring onto my finger. "You shouldn't bleed alone."

"What's this?"

"An engagement ring."

He kissed my finger. "Wear it all the time. Anyone who sees it will know you're mine."

Later, I learned it was forged from his mother's cross—the lucky charm he'd worn since childhood.

He kissed me with devotion and whispered, "If God only watches over one person, I pray it's your safety."

That ring stayed on my hand for seven years.

I gritted my teeth and yanked at the stubborn ring lodged on my knuckle. It hurt, but it felt freeing.

"Serena Bianchi! What are you doing?" Giovanni demanded sharply, unaware that the cigarette tip was burning his fingers.

Blood from my hand slicked the ring free.

I raised my hand and smashed it into his face. "Your love is worthless, just like you. Take back your ring. I find it dirty."

The ring left a streak of blood across his face and clattered at his feet.

Furious, he roared, "You think this will provoke me? Make me regret it? Stop the act! Go to Arvandor as I told you! That's your best ending! Without me, you're nothing!"

Without looking back, I turned and walked away.

The rain started again.

Giovanni seemed to yell something again, and hurried footsteps sounded behind me, though I couldn't make out his words.

Rain soon drenched my white dress, pressing the cold fabric against my skin. I kept moving forward, prepared to be soaked through.

Suddenly, beams of headlights cut through the downpour. A convoy of Maybachs roared up.

The man leading them jumped out of a car, holding a black umbrella over my head.

Amid the shocked gasps of everyone around, I was pulled into a warm, dry embrace.

"Don Rossi, you might want to take care of your own business first," the man said, his voice low and commanding. "I will take care of my fiancee."