His Apology Two Lifetimes Late

After my rebirth, I didn't wait for my fiancé to save me. I chose to save myself.

I remember my past life: during an ambush by a rival family, my fiancé, Kent, chose to save me—pregnant with his child—and in doing so, allowed his childhood friend, Camilla, to die. From that moment, his love curdled into hate.

I was accused by the Council of being Camilla's murderer, framed, and secretly executed. In the end, they dumped my unborn child and me into the icy waters of Lake Michigan.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the ambush.

Kent was reborn, too. And this time, he chose Camilla.

But he had no idea that choice would haunt him for the rest of his life.

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1

When I opened my eyes, I knew I had been reborn.

I ignored the searing pain, forcing myself to remain calm. As the Cavaleri Syndicate's top enforcer and tactician, I immediately scanned my surroundings.

Soon, I recognized the scene: a pool of my own blood in an abandoned railyard on the South Side of Chicago.

I was back on the day Camilla and I were ambushed.

Camilla, Kent's childhood friend, had told me she’d discovered a secret weapons cache belonging to a rival family. She claimed that to protect Kent’s position and the family's interests, she had to see it for herself. But the location was deep in hostile territory, and she needed a guide.

At the time, I was two months pregnant and should have been on desk duty, far from any fieldwork. However, Kent insisted that I go with her.

The area was dangerous, especially at night. Rusted steel and unknown perils lurked in every shadow.

I protested, telling him I didn't want to take the risk.

He refused me coldly.

"You're barely showing. A quick field trip is nothing you can't handle. Just go."

I had no choice. In the end, I nodded.

After we entered the abandoned railyard, I never saw any weapons cache.

Instead, the moment I looked away, Camilla vanished.

Then, she deliberately triggered a hidden alarm.

The area erupted with gunfire from the rival family. Worse, they had sent their top assassin.

As the Don's fiancée, I couldn't just abandon one of our own. I began to search for her.

I hadn't gone far before a spray of bullets slammed into me, and I collapsed behind a pile of scrap metal.

From behind the surrounding cover, a cold, familiar laugh echoed.

It was Camilla.

The moment her voice cut through the hail of gunfire, I knew. I had been betrayed.

Camilla stood high on a stack of containers, smirking down at me.

"The Don's fiancée? God, you're naive, Alessia. Let me spell it out for you: there is no weapons cache. I set you up. I led you here so our rivals could do my dirty work. Once you and that bastard in your belly are gone, Kent will finally be all mine."

A cold dread washed over me.

I struggled to crawl away but was pinned down by enemy fire.

As I desperately returned fire, Camilla’s triumphant laughter echoed from above. Her cackling gave away her position, drawing the assassin's attention.

The assassin launched a grenade. It exploded violently against the container beside her, the blast nearly knocking her off the edge.

She clung to the railing, screaming for help in terror. But no one could hear her over the gunfire except me.

By then, I was already heavily wounded.

Covered in blood and completely exhausted, I finally lost consciousness, collapsing in a pool of my own blood.

Luckily, a derelict car blocked the subsequent spray of bullets, saving my life for the moment.

In my past life, when I woke up, I had desperately called Kent on the radio. At the same time, Camilla, unable to hold on, had also sent him a distress call.

Kent chose to save me then, but afterward, he blamed me for everything.

He accused me of deliberately leading Camilla into danger, causing her death. No matter how I explained, he refused to believe me.

So this time, after waking up, I didn't call for backup.

I endured the pain, tightened a belt around my wounded thigh as a makeshift tourniquet, and used my memory of the terrain to find my way back.

This time, I would not ask Kent for help. I never wanted to see his face again.