Chapter 4

Evelyn Carlson POV

It happened three days later.

I was packing my belongings—the things that truly belonged to me were pitifully few. After three years as “the godfather’s wife,” my personal possessions couldn’t even fill two suitcases.

The butler knocked on the door just as I was debating whether to take the Cartier watch Vincent had given me.

“Madam,” the old butler’s voice carried a note of alarm I had never heard before, “the Master requests your presence in the main hall.”

The main hall.

Not the study, not the dining room—the main hall.

In the Moreno family, the main hall was reserved for only two occasions—receiving important guests, or handling “internal family matters.”

I set down the watch, composed myself, and followed the butler to the main hall.

The moment I pushed open the door, I saw a room full of people.

Vincent sat in the seat of honor, his face as dark as a storm about to break. Luca stood at his side, along with several core family members I recognized.

And on the other side of the room—

Grace Bennett.

She wore a black dress, tears artfully streaking her face, nestled in the arms of an older woman. That was Vincent’s aunt—one of the most respected elders in the Moreno family.

“Evelyn,” Vincent spoke, his voice cold as January ice, “explain this.”

He was holding a tablet, the screen turned toward me.

I saw them.

Intimate images. The woman in them was Grace.

And beneath those images, the anonymous poster’s information—after so-called “technical tracing”—every single trail led precisely to me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“You don’t know?” Grace’s shrill voice cut through the air. “These were posted from your IP address! You wanted to destroy me!”

I looked at Vincent.

There was no question in his eyes. No intention of investigating. Not even a moment of hesitation.

He had already made his judgment.

I suddenly remembered—in the world of the mafia, suspicion itself is conviction.

“Vincent,” I tried one last time, “you know me. I would never do something like this.”

“I know you?” He let out a cold laugh. “The you I knew wouldn’t pull these stunts behind my back. But maybe I never knew you at all.”

In that moment, I felt an absurd kind of grief.

This man—I had once cracked open his chest and rebuilt his spinal nerves millimeter by millimeter. I had gambled my career, my future, everything—just to help him walk again.

And now, he wouldn’t even give me the patience to explain.

“Kneel,” Vincent said.

The entire hall fell into a deathly silence.

“What?”

“I said kneel,” he repeated, his voice devoid of inflection. “Apologize to Grace. In front of everyone.”

I looked around the room.

Those faces I had once thought of as “family” now regarded me with scrutiny and cold indifference. No one spoke for me. No one expressed doubt. No one thought this matter deserved further investigation.

Because in their eyes, I was just an outsider.

A pawn that could be sacrificed at any time.

“No.” I heard the word leave my lips. “I will not apologize for something I didn’t do.”

“Nor will I accept these baseless accusations.”

“Evelyn,” Vincent rose to his feet, eyes like ice, “don’t test my limits.”

I looked at him with unprecedented clarity.

For his “true love” Grace, regardless of whether I had actually done any of this—

I had to apologize.

Those guards watching eagerly would strike me down the moment I refused.

“Fine,” I said, and under everyone’s watchful eyes, I slowly sank to my knees. “If this is the submission you need.”

The moment my knees touched the cold marble floor, I felt a strange sense of release.

Not humiliation.

Not rage.

Just complete, utter clarity.

“I’m sorry,” I lowered my head, my voice calm. “If this matter is in any way connected to me, I apologize, Miss Bennett.”

Grace walked over to me.

She looked down at me, a smile curling her lips that only I could see.

“I accept your apology,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “After all… you’re just a pitiful woman.”

Then she turned to Vincent and said softly: “Vincent, I don’t want to pursue this further. Just let her reflect in the basement for a few days. I’m sure she’s learned her lesson.”

The basement.

The Moreno family’s basement was where they punished family members who had “made mistakes.”

Vincent nodded.

“Take her down.”

Two men stepped forward to grab my arms and haul me to my feet.

As I was led away, I looked back at Vincent one last time.

He had already turned away, murmuring something to Grace.

He didn’t even look at me.

From beginning to end, he hadn’t truly looked at me once.

In that moment, the last trace of attachment I had to this marriage died completely.

The night I was locked in the basement, the rain started falling again outside.

I sat against the cold wall, listening to the rain, and began to plan my departure.