Chapter 3

Inspect—Elena knew what that meant in their circles.

How certain men at Sicilian parties treated women they considered beneath them.

Sexual abuse, drug injections, gang rape... every vicious method they could imagine. Many young models had been tortured to death, their bodies weighted with hundred-pound tires and sunk into the dark, cold depths of the sea.

"I—" Elena's voice began to tremble. "I'm sorry, it's just my first day—"

"Oh, still a newbie." Luca's smile turned sharp. "You think a simple apology is enough?"

Elena's throat tightened. "I'm sorry... it was my fault—"

"Not adequate." Luca pointed at the floor. "Kneel. Let us see your sincerity."

The room fell silent.

Elena stared at the scattered glass on the marble, whiskey still spreading in puddles around the fragments. Blood from her ankle had already soaked through her cheap cotton socks.

No.

Elena had knelt for hours on the cold stone floors of the detention center.

But now—kneeling before these men, these men who had once been nothing in her eyes—it felt like facing death itself.

As the eldest daughter of the Rossi family, and for her dead father's sake, she could not allow herself to kneel.

"I can't." Elena's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Did she just refuse?" Francesco moved beside Luca. "This new hostess just refused your simple request?"

Not a request. A command. A test.

They wanted to see Elena grovel, and then she would face even more cruel punishments.

But they weren't wrong—Elena shouldn't have entered this private room.

"Please," Elena tried again. "The manager is still waiting for me—"

"We don't care what the manager is waiting for." Luca's voice hardened. "You walked into our territory. You follow our rules. Now kneel, or I'll have security throw you out. Of course... you'll be carried out."

Behind him, Francesco suddenly laughed.

"Forget it, Luca. She probably really got the wrong room. How could Vito be interested in such an ugly woman?"

Luca glared at Elena and waved dismissively. "Get lost! And thank Francesco for pleading on your behalf!"

Elena thanked them repeatedly, relieved they hadn't recognized her.

Just as Elena was about to leave, the inner door of the private room suddenly opened.

"When is the hostess coming?" A man emerged, his voice rough with irritation. "How much longer do I have to wait—"

Vito Calabria stopped mid-sentence, his gaze falling on Elena.

When Vito saw Elena's face, his eyes suddenly widened.

I'm finished. I've been recognized.

"Well, well, well." Vito's voice dropped to a certain freezing point.

"Elena Rossi. It really is you. Or should I call you..." His smile was like a blade. "Mrs. Moretti."

The room erupted in various reactions.

"Elena Rossi?"

"She's Elena Rossi?"

"How is that possible? How could she be Elena Rossi?"

Ignoring the rising commotion in the room, Luca sneered coldly. "This ugly woman recognized us all along. No wonder she wouldn't lift her head—she was afraid we'd recognize her."

"My God, I really didn't recognize her just now—she looks like a completely different person—" Francesco approached, staring intently.

"The princess of New York's Big Five Families, the Rossis," one of the men in the room said in amazement. "That beautiful woman who wouldn't even look at us. She's become... this."

"Anyone would look like this after three years in detention," Vito interrupted them. "The willful wife of Don Moretti. His... tool, I believe that's what he called you?"

Elena couldn't breathe.

They recognized who she was.

They remembered everything she had done to them.

"Interesting. The manager just told me he arranged a special hostess for me, meaning that person is you?" Vito stepped closer. "Tell me—does your husband know that you came here to work as a lowly bar girl right after getting out of prison?"

No, I have no husband. I don't want to hear his name, not from anyone.

"I—" Elena couldn't say a word.

"You what?" Vito suddenly smiled. "You're sorry? You called me 'a pile of dog shit from a New Jersey dump' at that charity gala?"

"I'm deeply sorry," Elena began to plead. "For everything I said. For—"

"Oh, she's sorry." Vito turned to address everyone in the room, gesturing dramatically with his cigarette. "The princess is sorry. How precious."

"You know what?" Vito took a deep drag of his cigarette. "Apologies require... sincerity. From the heart." He pointed at the floor with his cigarette.

"Kneel, Princess. Let us see how sorry you are."

Elena had knelt for God. She had knelt in confession. But to kneel for them...

"This princess seems very reluctant." Francesco pulled out his phone. "Should I call Mr. Moretti? Ask if his wife has the right to refuse simple requests from us business partners?"

I can't do this. I cannot—

But Elena had no choice.

She was now just a poor, starving hostess, not the former Mrs. Moretti, the Rossi princess.

Luca grabbed a wine glass and poured red wine directly over Elena's face.

Elena squeezed her eyes shut as the thick liquid matted her hair to her face, leaving streaks of dark red.

Francesco whistled: "Ugly and stinking! Perfect match for Princess Elena's image!"

Elena bit her lip hard. Vito's anger still hadn't subsided as he pointed to the carpet covered with broken glass: "Kowtow three times to me, three times to each person here. Don't stop!"

Luca had already raised his phone and started recording.

Now he felt that just an apology wasn't enough to quell their fury.

He would send this to everyone in New York's circles, let them all know that the former Rossi heiress, New York's first princess, was now a lowly hostess kneeling in a club!

Kneel—

The strong smell of alcohol made Elena dizzy. Everyone in the room stared at her viciously, anticipating, craving to see the former Elena kneel and kowtow to them.

Someone save me, anyone—

"If I kowtow... will you let me go?" Elena lowered her head even more, her tone increasingly humble.

Luca laughed maniacally as he pressed record: "Kneel first... Our patience is limited. If you don't kneel now, I'll make you regret walking through that door for the rest of your life!"

Elena's waist bent down, her knees beginning to slowly bend...

Suddenly, the door burst open.

"What are you all shouting about?"

A familiar yet strange man's voice rang out.