I Faked My Death, He Lost His Soul

I woke up in the past, on the eve of being traded by my family to that controlling mafia Don.

Last life, his suffocating “love” and rigid rules strangled me to death. This time, watching my father’s eager face, I just smiled.

“The engagement? Give it to your precious illegitimate daughter.”

I walked away. Using the skills he forced me to learn, I secured my escape. On the day of his wedding to my replacement, I boarded a plane far from this gilded hell.

Just before leaving, I pressed a button.

The family mansion—the symbol of my old prison—erupted into a fireball behind me.

Now, I’m thriving under the Mediterranean sun, free and wild. The once-untouchable Don is scouring the globe for me, unraveling.

He found me at an airport, fell to his knees, his eyes desperate, begging me to come back.

I lowered my sunglasses and looked at this stranger, my ex-fiancé, my voice utterly calm.

“Do I know you?”

I stared at my reflection in the ornate mirror. My face was still vivid, alive. I could feel my heart beating in my chest again, a heart that craved freedom. I took a deep breath.

This time, I didn’t want William Salvatore. I didn’t want his suffocating version of love.

I just wanted to be myself. Isabella Caruso, free, bright, and reckless.

The first thing I did was storm downstairs and find my father, Victor Caruso, having breakfast in the formal dining room.

“I’m calling off the engagement to William Salvatore.”

Victor’s spoon clattered against his fine china. He looked up, his face flushing with anger. “What kind of nonsense is this now?! I’ve indulged your whims before, but this? An alliance with the Salvatore Family is something men would kill for! Do you have any idea how exceptional William is? His lineage, his capabilities, his control… he’s one in a million!”

I looked at his face, the face of a man who’d happily bundle me up and deliver me to the Salvatores, and felt a cold laugh bubble inside. “If he’s so perfect, then let your precious illegitimate daughter marry him. I’m giving the arrangement to her.”

Victor’s anger froze, then melted into disbelief and naked delight. “You… you’d really give it to your sister?”

“Yes. You always preferred the mistress and the mistress’s daughter anyway. You’ve spent a fortune polishing Seraphina into a proper society doll. She’ll make a perfect wife for a high-and-mighty Don.”

“You!” His face cycled through shades of pale and red. “Don’t speak of your stepmother that way! That is your sister!”

“The alliance was set. It can’t be undone. If you’re determined to step aside… so be it. I’ll go to the Salvatore compound now to discuss the change.”

He stood up, almost knocking his chair over, grabbed his suit jacket, and rushed out, abandoning his breakfast.

Watching his retreating back—all false concern and barely contained glee—I felt nothing but a deep, weary sense of irony.

I didn’t say another word. I turned, went upstairs, grabbed my passport and purse, and left right after him.

My first stop was the embassy for an expedited visa. Then I called my closest friend, Chloe, and we headed straight to The Crucible, an exclusive underground club in the Diamond District.

The pounding music, the strobe lights, bodies grinding on the dance floor… it all felt like freedom. Real, untamed freedom.

I dragged Chloe into the fray. We danced, we drank expensive vodka straight, and in a moment of pure defiance, I waved over a couple of the club’s most attractive hired companions.

Chloe stared at me, her drink forgotten. “Isabella, your family is about to merge with the Salvatores! William Salvatore is notorious for his control! The rules in that family… my father would have a stroke if he knew we were here, with them! If you want to commit suicide, don’t take me with you!”

I threw back another shot, the burn down my throat a welcome sensation.

I smiled, a lazy, unfocused curve of my lips. “Relax. I gave the engagement to Seraphina.”

“You gave it?” Chloe’s eyes were saucers. “But… you were obsessed with William. After that charity gala where you met him, you said no one else measured up. You said only a man of his… caliber was worthy.”

I traced the rim of my glass. My smile didn’t reach my eyes, which felt clear and cold. “Infatuation and compatibility are different things. We aren’t compatible. And I’m not infatuated anymore.”

“Love is expensive. Freedom is priceless. I’m young, I’m rich, I’m not hard to look at. I’ll find someone who fits. Like…”

My gaze slid to the handsome companion beside me, who offered a shy smile. I reached out, running a fingertip along his jawline. “These ones, for example. They have their uses.”

The words hung in the smoky air.

Then a voice cut through the bass, cold, low, and utterly alien to this place.

“What,” it said, “did you just say?”