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I Left, and the Family Collapsed Novel Cover

I Left, and the Family Collapsed

After Pete Rizzuto took his foster sister as a mistress, his wife faked her death and vanished. Now facing a terminal cancer diagnosis, she is pulled from hiding not by love, but by a cold letter from Sicily. The Rizzuto heir is unstable, and the mafia family is fracturing under Pete's poor judgment. Returning to the estate she once fled, she abandons all emotion to become the ruthless Donna the elders require, fulfilling her final obligations before her time runs out.
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Chapter 4

Pete's face instantly darkened. “Then destroy it. I hope you won't regret it.”

I didn't respond. I walked past them without looking back.

Berg blocked my way.

“If you don't forgive us,” he said tautly, “I'll go out partying tomorrow and won't come home.”

He'd used this tactic before.

Before, I would always advise him, make him study hard, make him understand that as the heir to the family, he needed wisdom, not just brute force; such a family wouldn't last.

Now, I'm tired.

So tired that even breathing is a burden.

“Do as you please, do whatever you want,” I said.

As soon as I stepped into the house, the old wooden door behind me slammed shut.

A lock slid into place.

“This is Mr. Pete's order,” a woman outside said, “You stay here and reflect until you realize your mistakes.”

I remained silent.

Over the next few days, the food became increasingly scarce, and eventually, even the food that was delivered was spoiled.

He waited for me to apologize, as I had always done.

But I was dying; it didn't matter anymore.

The pain in my chest had long since killed my appetite. After what seemed like an eternity, someone came.

It was Berg.

He placed an ear of corn on the table.

“Father is marrying Mia tomorrow,” he said coldly, “as his second Donna. Are you satisfied now?”

He didn't wait for my answer.

“As long as you apologize, Donna's place will still be yours.”

“Whatever, I don't want to be her anymore,” I said.

He lost control and said, “Fine, then you won't be my mother anymore.”

On the wedding day, news of Mia's fainting spell spread throughout the entire family.

They said her suffering wasn't due to illness, but to a demon.

They summoned the pastor from the church, who pointed to a spot in the east courtyard—under the old oak tree.

My second child is buried there. My daughter. She was nine months old when she died.

Panic washed over me instantly. I pushed past the guard and ran.

When I reached the tree, the soil had already been disturbed, the earth freshly turned, the grave only moments away from being broken open.

I felt something deep inside me being torn apart—more thoroughly, more acutely than the pain of cancer.

“Pete!” I screamed, “Are you crazy? She was your child too!”

I rushed forward like a madman, but a pair of hands grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

Pete didn’t even look at me.

He stood by the fire pit, lazily fiddling with his lighter.

“Isabella,” he said calmly, “are you here to apologize?”

“She was your own flesh and blood!” I cried, “You’re using her to threaten me? Are you even human?”

Berg scoffed.

“She’s dead,” he said coldly. “If she turned into a demon and hurt people, then she must be dealt with. Even family members shouldn’t be an exception.”

I laughed.

My vision blurred with tears from my laughter.

To force me to submit, they wouldn’t even admit their daughter was a demon.

Unbelievable.

Mia finally spoke, her voice soft, almost tender.

“Pete is right, we can’t let demons harm the living. You understand…right?”

“Shut up,” I hissed. “I should have killed you.”

She flinched, hiding behind Pete.

He finally turned around, his voice low and firm—confident.

“Isabella,” he said, “you just need to admit you were wrong and forgive us, and I’ll spare your daughter.”

I laughed.

Blood welled from between my teeth.

“Pete,” I said hoarsely, “I regret not killing you too.”

The last glimmer of warmth in his eyes vanished.

“Do it.”

“No—!”

The digging continued.

I tore myself loose and ran forward, throwing myself flat against the ground, pressing my body over my daughter’s grave, letting the hoe come down hard on my ankle without flinching.

Pete seized me from behind.

His voice brushed against my ear, calm and gentle—as if crawling up from the depths of hell.

“As long as you don’t forgive me,” he said softly, “I will torture you forever.”

“Let me go!”

My hand reached for the gun at his waist.

I was about to pull the trigger when a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over me.

A sharp pain shot through my throat.

Blood gushed from my mouth.

The tension supporting my body suddenly snapped.

I fell forward, the ground slamming into me. I heard someone calling my name—

Then, everything went black.

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