Chapter 3

At the Vitale family headquarters, Chiara gripped the phone tightly, listening to one bad news after another.

"Miss, the loan shark business in the North District has also been vandalized..."

"The smuggling fleet at the dock was attacked last night..."

"We can't collect protection money from the bar street. The shop owners say they have no force to threaten us, so why should they pay?"

Chiara slammed down the phone and looked at the clan elders sitting across the long table. Several of the old men had grim faces, their eyes filled with obvious dissatisfaction and reproach. One or two of them had shifty eyes, seemingly already secretly plotting another way out.

“Miss,” the elderly Elder Antonio began, his voice low, “the family is in a very dangerous situation. Without Romano’s protection, our business losses have already exceeded three million euros.”

"It's all because of your willfulness!" another elder slammed his fist on the table and stood up. "For an outsider, you've ruined generations of family marriages!"

Chiara glared at them with disgust: "Shut up! It's none of your business how I do things!"

The elders exchanged glances, their anger growing stronger. But due to her status, they could only suppress their rage. Elder Antonio sighed and exchanged a meaningful look with the people beside him—a look that already hinted at disloyalty.

Chiara paced back and forth in the room, her beautiful face contorted with anxiety. Without the Romano family's armed protection, the Vitale family was like a fish stripped of its scales, vulnerable to any small fry taking a bite.

But she absolutely cannot admit defeat!

“I’m going to find Matteo,” Chiara suddenly said. “This farce should end.”

She changed into her most expensive white dress and applied exquisite makeup. In the mirror, she was still breathtakingly beautiful.

I've been infatuated with her beauty since I was a child. As long as she shows even the slightest kindness, that loyal dog will wag his tail and beg to return to her side.

Royal private horse farm in Sicily.

Sunlight filters through the olive foliage, dappling the neatly trimmed lawn, where thoroughbred Arabian horses stroll leisurely within their enclosures. This is the island's most luxurious private horse ranch, accessible only to core members of the Yakuza families.

Chiara, wearing high heels, walked across the gravel path and soon spotted my familiar figure.

I was leading a chestnut thoroughbred, my movements gentle and patient. What angered Chiara even more was that Isabella was standing right beside me, dressed in professional riding attire, her platinum blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight.

"Be careful," I said gently, reaching out to help Isabella mount the horse. "This horse is a bit wild."

Isabella gracefully sat sideways on the saddle, a faint smile playing in her icy blue eyes. "Thank you, Matteo."

Chiara's nails dug into her palms. That gentle tone—that was the one I should have been speaking to her!

She took a deep breath and walked over in her high heels.

Matteo.

Without turning my head, I continued adjusting the saddle straps.

“I know you’re angry,” Chiara tried to make her tone sound gentler, “but we grew up together, we learned to ride horses here together, don’t those things matter?”

There has still been no response.

Chiara bit her lip and continued, "Okay, I admit what happened that night was... a misunderstanding. But Marco is just a friend, we didn't do anything! If you're willing to help me resolve my current trouble, I can..."

She paused, as if making a huge concession: "I can allow you to come back to me."

As soon as she finished speaking, Isabella gracefully raised her riding whip, the tip lightly touching the ground three inches in front of Chiara's feet, stirring up a small cloud of dust. She smiled slightly, a smile devoid of any warmth.

“Miss Vitale, if you take one more step, this whip will not just fall to the ground.”

Chiara was startled and took a step back, nearly falling as her high heels touched the gravel.

"You... what right do you have..."

“Qualifications?” Isabella chuckled, raising her left hand to show the blood-red ring on her ring finger. “These are my qualifications.”

I finally turned around, but instead of looking at Chiara, I took out a white handkerchief from my pocket and carefully wiped the saddle that Chiara had just approached.

The action was filled with disgust, as if cleaning up something filthy.

"Mateo!" Chiara finally snapped. "When are you going to stop this nonsense? I've already given you a way out, what more do you want?"

I stopped wiping and slowly raised my head. Those dark green eyes held no trace of their former gentleness, only coldness and disgust.

“Steps?” I chuckled. “Miss Chiara, you’ve got one thing wrong.”

I took a few steps closer and looked down at her: "It's not me giving you a way out, it's you begging from me."

“But unfortunately,” my voice was like the cold wind of Sicily, “the Romano family’s horse farm does not welcome beggars.”

The grooms and servants around her stopped what they were doing, their eyes filled with mockery and contempt. The once high and mighty Lady Vitale was now being humiliated like a lowly beggar.

Chiara felt a burning sensation on her face, as if she had been slapped in public.

“You…you’ll regret this!” she threatened, her voice trembling. “Without the Vitale family, you are nothing!”

"Is that so?" I pulled the reins back on the horse. "Then I'll wait and see."

I helped Isabella ride away, leaving Chiara standing alone in the sunlight, tears of humiliation welling in her eyes.

Nighttime, Vitale family headquarters.

Chiara angrily pushed open the door, her high heels making a sharp sound on the marble floor.

"Damn Matteo! Damn Isabella!" she cursed as she took off her high heels. "Just you wait! I will never bow down to you!"

She wanted to go to the elders to discuss countermeasures, but found the hall empty.

"Elder Antonio?" she called several times, but there was no response.

Kia frowned as she walked toward her father's study, where the family's most important vault was located. Just as she reached the door, she heard rustling sounds coming from inside.

The door wasn't completely closed, leaving a small crack.

Chiara peeked through the crack in the door and instantly trembled with rage—

Marco stood in front of the open vault, carefully stuffing stacks of cash and important documents into a travel bag.

That was the Vitale family's last remaining liquid assets!

“Marco…” Chiara’s voice was full of disbelief, “What is he doing?”

She suddenly remembered that three months ago she had brought Marco to her father's study. At the time, she was angry and had scribbled the vault code on a sticky note and thrown it on the table. He must have memorized it then.

The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water—he had planned all of this long ago.