As ruthless as the name Corleone was in the world, there was one thing that challenged their vicious nature.

The love Michael Corleone had for his wife.

Of course, it was no secret that the mafia don adored his darling wife. From his arm around her waist walking down the hall of a gala they were hosting to the tender way he held her hand as she stepped from their cadilac, all could see the gentleness and wholehearted affection he had for his wife. He thought she was perfect, from the moment he met her he knew no one could compare to his favourite girl. He showered her with luxuries, only needing her love in return.

That's what made the contrast to his ruthlessness all the more frightening. Particularly when it concerned his wife.

That's why, his fists were clenched and jaw tensed as he watched his wife on the witness stand. He had been taken to court for trivial reasons - some whistleblower that had ended up in a hole in the Las Vegas desert - trivial enough that his wife didn't need to be interviewed in court.

"Let the record show that it's August 14th, 1965." The judge starts. "May the prosecution approach the witness, Mrs Corleone the wife of two years of the defendant."