Four Deaths Later, Who Is She?

The sound of a car engine roared outside.

“He left?” Chloe was the first to rush to the window, peeking through a narrow gap in the curtains as she watched the Consigliere’s car drive away.

“He’s gone for now,” Blair collapsed onto the sofa. “But he’ll be back tomorrow night.”

Catherine locked the living room door and pulled every curtain shut. When she turned back to face us, her expression was more serious than I had ever seen.

“We need to talk.”

The four of us, who normally fought like sworn enemies, sat together for once, united by lingering fear.

“Talk about what?” I stared at the ring on the table. “Talk about which one of us is going to her death?”

“You remember, too?” Blair snapped her head up. “You’re sure you were killed on the wedding night as well?”

I sighed. “Didn’t you see it yourself? I was stabbed and sent back covered in blood.”

“That was horrible,” Chloe muttered, surprisingly sympathetic for once. “You were soaked in blood. I couldn’t even look.”

“Four times,” Catherine said grimly. “Each of us died on our wedding night. So who exactly is the Godfather looking for?”

I picked up the ring and had everyone try it on again. Just like before, I was the only one it fit. Yet, in my last life, I’d worn it too and still died.

A tense silence befell us. One by one, we let out helpless sighs.

Blair’s voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes. “If we can’t figure it out by tomorrow… the Godfather won’t kill all of us again, will he?”

The atmosphere grew heavier by the second. After all, the most powerful Godfather alive had killed more people than anyone could count.

“Maybe he’s wrong,” I finally said. “Maybe his true love isn’t any of us.”

“What do you mean?” Catherine asked suspiciously.

“That actually makes sense,” Blair said, standing up. “Do we have any other clues?”

“The Consigliere said he confirmed his true love at that Ritz-Carlton charity gala,” I said. “If we check the surveillance footage, maybe he was looking at someone else.”

We all vaguely remembered that night. The Godfather, Dante Costello, had indeed paused briefly at our table.

To save our lives, we moved fast. Using the last of her remaining connections and a bit of flirtation, Catherine managed to get the security chief to hand over the footage.

Two hours later, the four of us crowded into the study, staring at the laptop screen. In the video, Dante appeared in a black suit as he walked through the banquet hall. His steps were steady, his expression cold. He looked refined and untouchable, carrying none of the blood-soaked brutality people associated with the mafia.

“This is it,” I said, pointing at the screen. “He’s about to pass our table.”

Dante approached. His gaze swept over our table and seemed to linger on someone. Then, the corner of his lips lifted, just slightly. The smile was subtle, but unmistakable. It was gentle and affectionate, different from his usual icy demeanor. Then, he moved on and disappeared from the frame.

Because our family had fallen from grace, we had been seated at a table tucked into the corner. No one else had wanted to sit with us. It meant that from the moment Dante entered the hall to the moment he left, the only people he looked at were the four of us.

I said blankly, “It really does look like one of us is the Godfather’s true love.”

“There’s no way to tell who he was looking at,” Blair said with a sigh. “But that smile was way too obvious.”

The four of us exchanged silent looks, fear filling our eyes. If we didn’t all retain memories of our brutal deaths from past lives, none of this would even be explainable.

“If it really is one of us,” Chloe whispered, trembling, tears pooling in her eyes, “then why… why did he kill every single one of us?”

My mind raced, searching for a way out of this nightmare. Then, suddenly, an idea cut through the fog.

“I need to go to the Godfather’s estate,” I said, breaking the deadlock. “I need to see him in person.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the living room fell into complete silence.