My Husband Chose Her, So I Chose Survival

That night, I dreamed of my last life.

I remembered.

Every ugly, humiliating piece of it.

Because of Isabella, I had screamed at Lucas day after day. I had smashed glasses, overturned tables, and turned the Gambino house into a battlefield.

In the end, during one of those fights, I shoved Lucas's mother away from me.

She fell backward, struck her head against the marble floor, and never opened her eyes again.

Lucas filed for divorce that same week.

The moment the papers were signed, the family lost its balance.

The capos started choosing sides. Old grudges surfaced. Men who had smiled at our table for years suddenly pulled knives from behind their backs.

My father was ambushed outside one of our restaurants and gunned down in his own car.

My mother collapsed at his funeral and never woke up.

And I died in an alley in Queens on a freezing, rainy night, too weak to even call for help.

"Dad! Mom!"

I shot up in bed, choking for air.

Cold sweat ran down my face and soaked through the sheets.

"Miss Sophia?" one of the maids called from outside the door. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

My voice came out hoarse.

A minute later, I slipped out of my room and walked barefoot down the hall to my parents' bedroom.

I stopped outside their door.

Behind it, I could hear my father's low, steady breathing and my mother shifting softly in her sleep.

They were still alive.

For now.

Only then did the fear locked in my chest loosen a little.

The next morning, Lucas brought Isabella to my parents' private sitting room to explain himself.

My mother's expression was ice-cold.

"Lucas," she said. "Is this what you call taking care of my daughter? You brought another woman into her house. What comes next? Do you plan to put her in Sophia's bed too?"

Lucas's mother stood beside him, pale and nervous, trying to apologize before the situation got worse.

Isabella's face turned white.

Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Donna Gambino, I'm so sorry. I thought Sophia had agreed. I didn't know she would change her mind in front of everyone. I'll leave right now."

Then she turned and ran out of the room.

My father, Leo Gambino, Don of the Gambino family, sat in the armchair with a cigar between his fingers.

He took one slow drag.

His face darkened.

Lucas lowered his head, but his jaw was tight.

"Don Leo. Donna. Vincent took a bullet for me at the docks. You always taught me that this family pays its debts. I can't leave his widow out there alone."

My father finally spoke.

"Then write her a check. Enough for her to live well for the rest of her life."

He tapped ash into the tray.

"You have a wife. You have a position in this family. You have responsibilities. And let me be clear: anyone who humiliates my daughter answers to me."

Lucas's face went stiff with rage.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

I watched the scene unfold, and the memories of my last life came rushing back.

This was exactly how it had gone before.

My parents had stood up for me.

They had thrown Lucas out and defended my name.

Not long after that, the Gambino family had begun to fall apart.

Not this time.

I would not let the same thing happen again.

Before anyone else could speak, I opened my mouth.

"It's fine, Mom. Dad."

Everyone turned to look at me.

"The Gambino house has enough rooms for Isabella. Like Lucas said, Vincent died for this family. The least we can do is keep his widow safe."

Lucas's head snapped toward me.

For the first time since he entered the room, he looked genuinely stunned.

He had not expected me to defend him.

Or maybe he had not expected me to stay calm.

"Sorry. I..." Lucas looked away, embarrassed. "I got carried away. I'll go check on Isabella."

He gave my parents a stiff apology, then hurried out. Lucas's mother followed him at once.

The second they were gone, my mother's face turned cold.

"That ungrateful bastard. Does he think he runs this family now? Bringing people into this house without even asking us?"

"Mom." I reached over and took her hand.

My father looked at me, his expression unreadable.

"I'll have my men deal with him."

"No, Dad. Don't." I cut him off before he could finish. "I'm divorcing Lucas."

My mother stared at me.

"Sophia... baby, we're sorry. We should never have pushed you into this marriage."

Three years.

Lucas and I had been married for three years, and he had never touched me.

He said he was not ready for children.

I believed him.

I waited.

And in my last life, the moment our divorce was final, Lucas married Isabella.

Six months later, she gave birth to his child.

My father had been the one to raise Lucas up.

He had taken him from a street soldier with nothing but nerve and a gun, and made him underboss of the Gambino family.

All because Lucas was ruthless.

Because he did not fear death.

Because my father thought a man like that could protect me.

My mother squeezed my hand and sighed.

"Honey, this marriage is tied to too many families. A divorce won't be simple."

"I know."

No matter what it took, this time I would cut myself free.

I took my father's hand.

"Dad, has anything been happening in the family lately? Any trouble with the crews? Any capos acting strange? Any talk from the other families?"

He narrowed his eyes, thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"Nothing serious."

Good. We still had time.

My mother frowned. "Why are you asking that?"

I gave her some vague excuse and stood up.

There was too much to do, and not nearly enough time.