---- Chapter 7 Alessia POV: The gates to my father's estate slid open, a silent welcome home. As Damien and | stepped out of the car, Thomas, my father's lifelong consigliere, was there to greet us. He gave me a look of deep concern and then a subtle, knowing nod to Damien. The moment | stepped into the grand foyer, the dam broke. The strength that had carried me through the last few hours crumbled, and | collapsed into tears. Sobs wracked my body as | poured out the entire story-the emotional torture, the public humiliation, and finally, the physical strike from Santino. Damien stood by, his expression grim and unmoving. When my tears finally subsided, he looked at me, his gaze steady. "Your decision for an annulment is final?" "Yes," | answered, my voice raw but firm. | wiped my eyes, a cold determination settling back into place. | repeated the Bianchi family motto, the words my father lived by. "Survival is justice." "He hit you," Damien stated, his voice flat. It wasn't a question. "Yes. ---- "| saw the mark," he confirmed. The silent fury in his eyes spoke volumes. The violation of the honor code was unforgivable. Just then, my father appeared. Don Marcello Bianchi was a man whose presence filled any room he entered. He walked towards me, his eyes taking in my tear-streaked face, and then they locked onto the fading bruise on my cheek. His expression transformed into a mask of cold, terrifying rage. He didn't say a word to me. He simply turned and walked into his private study, the command center for his vast empire, both legitimate and not. The launch of his bloody revenge had begun. | could hear his voice through the heavy oak door, calm and lethal. He was issuing a series of chilling directives. "Sell all shares of Moretti holdings. Immediately." "Recall every Bianchi investment. Every last dollar." "Activate all financial leverage. | want them bankrupt by sunrise." | looked at Damien. "My father's money was the silent partner in all of Santino's legitimate businesses," | explained quietly. "Millions in strategic investments. Without it, the entire Moretti facade will collapse." My father's absolute economic influence was a weapon far more devastating than any gun. A few minutes later, the door opened. Don Marcello stepped ---- out, his face still grim but the storm in his eyes had settled into a cold certainty. "It is done," he said, his voice like stones grinding together. "The Moretti family will face complete financial and social ruin. It is the swift, brutal consequence for their dishonor." He pulled me into a fierce embrace, his arms a fortress around me. "You are a Bianchi," he whispered into my hair. "You are under my protection now. No one will ever lay a hand on you or bring shame to our name again."