---- Chapter 8 Alessia POV: Upstairs, in the quiet safety of my childhood bedroom, memories of my mother-in-law, Eleanor Moretti, flooded my mind. For four years, | had endured her condescending remarks, her thinly veiled disdain. | was never good enough, never quiet enough, never the right kind of wife for her precious son. | was a Bianchi, and to her, that meant | was competition. | thought about all the sacrifices I'd made to win her approval, the endless, futile attempts to prove my loyalty to the Moretti family bond. It had all been for nothing. A bitter, useless waste. A soft knock came at the door. It was Thomas, my father's consigliere. "Alessia," he said gently. "Don and Mrs. Moretti are here to see you." Their faces, he added, were etched with a new and unfamiliar desperation. | felt a cold surge of power. This was my home. My turf. My new authority as a Mafia Queen, backed by the full might of the Bianchi family, was absolute. "Let them wait," | said. | made them wait for a full thirty minutes. A deliberate, ---- calculated display of contempt and power. When | finally descended the grand staircase, | saw Eleanor pacing in the formal sitting room, her usual arrogant impatience on full display. She was already starting to blame me for the crisis. | hadn't bothered to dress. | wore a simple silk robe, my hair loose around my shoulders. My calm, almost casual demeanor was designed to unnerve them, to immediately establish my complete control over the situation. "Eleanor," | said, my voice smooth as glass. | cut off her impending tirade with a simple gesture towards the sofa. "Please, sit." In my father's house, my authority was unquestionable. She sat The senior Don Moretti, Santino's father, looked pale and strained. He was a man watching his empire crumble. He wasted no time. "Alessia," he began, his voice raspy with desperation. "We will handle Valentina. She will be removed from the family immediately. She will be gone." He then made an offer so naive, so utterly tone-deaf, that | almost laughed. "We will buy you and Santino a new estate. Anywhere you want. A fresh start." ---- He thought this was about a house. He thought a material offering could fix a broken honor code, could mend a shattered family bond. He had no idea what he was up against. | met his desperate gaze with one of ice and steel. | let the silence stretch, letting him stew in his own pathetic attempt at reconciliation. "Your 'solutions'," | finally said, my voice dripping with disdain, "are completely irrelevant to my quest for justice. And for my bloody revenge."