Lorenzo’s POV
Flashbulbs went off like a storm.
"Don Lorenzo, how will the Vitale merger affect the East Coast?"

"Is it true you left your ex-wife for true love?"
The reporters' questions were like daggers.
I was surrounded. Every flash felt like I was being stripped naked for the world to see.
Cassandra squeezed in at the right moment, taking my arm, smiling like a real bride.
"We're very much in love," she cooed at the cameras, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Lorenzo would go against the world for me."
I looked at her, and my stomach churned.

But for the family, I had to see this last act through.
"Yes," I squeezed the words through my teeth. "Cassandra is... an important person in my life."
Every word was like swallowing a nail.
The reporters scribbled it down, satisfied. All I wanted was to end this damn ceremony and find Isabella.

Finally, it was time for the vows.
I stood at the altar, looking at the greedy, scheming smiles in the crowd. My heart felt like stone.
Isabella, what would you think if you saw this?
Would you hate me?
"Don Lorenzo," the officiant's voice boomed. "The bride and groom will now exchange rings."
Just then, one of my men ran onto the stage, his face pale with panic.
"Boss, someone sent a wedding gift."
On the tray was a black USB drive. A red scorpion was etched into the casing—the mark of Scorpio, a legendary dark web hacker.
Cassandra’s eyes lit up. She snatched the drive. "It must be a blessing from one of my father's old friends! Quick, plug it into the big screen!"
A sudden, intense feeling of dread washed over me.
"Cassandra, don't—"
"It's fine! It'll be more fun if we all watch together!" She had already handed the drive to the tech crew.
The lights in the hall dimmed.
The giant LED screen flickered to life. Not with a wedding video, but with a single line of blood-red text:
A REQUIEM FOR THE BETRAYED
Then, a distorted audio clip tore through the silence.
It was Cassandra's voice, clear as if she were standing right next to me.
"Lorenzo, that tattoo on your arm..."
"The iris?" That was my voice, exhausted.
My head snapped up. I stared at the screen. This was... our conversation from that night?
"Every time I see it, I think of that murderer. Can you get rid of it?"
"And replace it with what?"
"The first letter of my name. A 'C'."
The entire hall fell silent. Everyone held their breath, staring at the scrolling text on the screen.
But that was just the beginning.
The audio continued, and the content was horrifying.
"Is this your last wish?"
"Yes. Lorenzo, do you remember? To protect me, you framed Isabella for my father's murder..."
BOOM—
The room erupted.
The Mafia bosses stared at each other, their shock turning to disgust.
I froze, my blood turning to ice.
That conversation... I had compromised for the blood oath, but she admitted to the frame-up out loud!
The audio was damning enough, but then text scrolled across the screen, like a news headline from hell:
LORENZO ROMANO FRAMED HIS WIFE FOR A WHORE.
The recording played on, even more venomous.
"Cassandra, are you sure Isabella won't find out?"
"Don't worry, I've made arrangements inside. I paid off the top dog in there. She'll take 'good care' of her. Broken glass in her food, broken ribs... I'll make sure she's a wreck even if she gets out alive."
What?!
My head spun. The world went black.
Broken glass? Broken ribs?
That was her idea of "taking care" of someone?
That's what Isabella went through in prison?
I turned to look at Cassandra. She was pale as a ghost, trembling all over, looking like she'd seen the devil.
"No... that's not real..." she stammered, backing away. "It's fake! Someone framed me!"
But the reaction from the crowd said it all.
"Fucking disgusting."
"Framing his own wife. The Romano family name is mud."
"This man is supposed to be a Don?"
The two things the Mafia values most—Honor and Family—I had just crushed them into dust.
Reporters frantically snapped pictures, documenting the ugliest scandal in mob history.
Cassandra finally broke. "Turn it off! Turn it the hell off!" she screamed, rushing the control booth.
She grabbed a champagne bottle and smashed it against the screen. Shards of glass flew everywhere.
"That bitch Isabella! She should have died! I'm the one who made her life a living hell in prison! How dare she do this to me!"
Her hysterical shrieks echoed through the microphones across the entire hall.
I stood on the stage, watching the crazed Cassandra, watching the looks of contempt from below.
I didn't feel anger.
Just a vast, empty sense of absurdity.
I thought I was protecting my family, protecting our honor.
In reality, I was an executioner.
I had personally sent the woman I loved to hell. I had made a deal with the devil, and the devil was her.
"Isabella..." I whispered to myself.
This was her revenge.
She was watching me.
I ignored the screaming Cassandra, ignored my family's ruined reputation.
I ripped the white rose—the symbol of our union—from my chest and crushed it under my heel.
Then, under everyone's gaze, I turned and ran out of the hall.