Reborn as the Mafia's Bride

'' Chapter 2: Who Are You? '' "I can't believe she slit her wrist to avoid marrying Richard Swift!" a voice exclaimed, dripping with disbelief. Diana found herself in a strange room with blue and white walls. Rays of sunlight stole in through the colorful curtains. Her blue eyes scanned the environment, landing on a makeup compartment by the vanity mirror, which had makeup from several brands lined up. Strange faces surrounded her. Diana blinked, trying to process everything. The last memory she had was of dying that night. How was she alive? Didn't she die yesterday at the hands of her boyfriend and that woman? Why was she here? In an unfamiliar room with strange faces? Taking a breath, Diana put on her composure face mask. Perhaps they had kidnapped her and were forcing her into something she didn't want. In a wedding dress? Yes. She was in a wedding dress that had a plunging neckline, revealing her ample chest. What was strange was that the person in the mirror was also a stranger. Nothing made sense. "Can you believe it? Brielle has always been selfish," remarked an older woman, her voice laced with disdain as she crossed her arms. "Yeah, I know!" replied a younger version of her, her nose flaring with indignation. She shared the same features as the older woman. It was Natalie Smith, the real daughter of Sylvia Smith. Why was she here? Suddenly, a flurry of memories hit her like a tidal wave. Diana fell from the chair to the floor, overwhelmed by the new recollections. It hit her. Something she had only read in books and thought was nonsense: she had been reborn into a different body. Blood rushed to Diana's head when she saw the person through the mirror's reflection. It was Natalie Smith-the very person responsible for sufferings of the original owner with her numerous schemes. Brielle Smith, the adopted daughter of the Smith family, who had been treated like a slave since birth, was now being sent to marry an old, comatose wealthy man in New York to repay the Smiths' debts. She was the substitute for her sister, Natalie, who happened to be the favored one. As the memories slowly merged with hers, Diana felt a surge of anger at the previous owner of the body. Brielle had been so weak, allowing everyone to bully her. She suffered from social anxiety and spent her whole life pleasing the Smiths. Unfortunately, nothing she did mattered. When they asked her to marry Richard Swift-who was on his deathbed-Brielle had been expected to be his nurse and servant until he died. Unable to face this prison of a marriage, Brielle had cut her wrist to escape. This was so wrong. At that moment, Diana felt a hand grabbing her arm, and disgust washed over her. She loathed being touched. In a swift motion, she pulled the perpetrator's arm and twisted it behind her back. Natalie screamed, her voice piercing the air and threatening to break the glass windows. "Don't you ever touch me!" Diana warned, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Natalie was stunned, her eyes wide as she nursed her hurt wrist, blowing air on it in a futile attempt to ease the pain. Unable to see her daughter hurt, Sylvia Smith, Diana's foster mother, rushed in between them, pulling Natalie to her side. She raised her hand to hit Diana. "Don't touch me if you want to keep your fingers," Diana seethed, catching Sylvia's hand mid-air. She let go and sprayed a can of sanitizer afterward, her clean-freak nature on full display. A collective gasp echoed in the room. The aura she emitted was cold and domineering, making Sylvia take two steps back. "Mom, are you okay?" Natalie asked, her voice filled with concern as she clutched her mother's arm. "I can't believe I lived to see the day this ingrate I brought in on a rainy day would speak back to me," Sylvia lamented, her expression distraught. "I can't believe Diana did something like this," one of the bridesmaids said, her tone filled with disbelief. "No wonder there is a saying that we should take care of our own before helping others. The adopted daughter dares to do this?" another chimed in, shaking her head. With one look, Diana could tell they were Natalie's best friends, Ronny and Sandy, chosen by Natalie to act as bridesmaids for Brielle's wedding. "Hmm." "Diana, why are you so rough and heartless? You hit our mother?" Natalie accused, her voice shaky and defensive. "Ours?" Diana scoffed, her eyes colder than winter. "When has she ever been a mother to me? If all mothers are hypocrites, I'm glad mine died." "You!!" Sylvia's eyes flew open at Diana's words, barely able to contain her fury. "Mom, calm down. Your blood pressure might increase over something this silly," Natalie soothed, her voice softening as she tried to defuse the situation. At this point, Diana took a step forward, her cold gaze examining Sylvia. She seized Sylvia's wrist, placing her index and middle fingers on the radial artery. "What are you-" Sylvia started, confusion etched on her face. Diana silenced her by raising a hand. After counting for a minute, she sighed. "You don't have high blood pressure. Why do you lie?" In an instant, Sylvia's face lost color. She had been using that as an excuse to emotionally blackmail the original owner. Brielle had been foolish enough to fall for it every time. What had happened to her daughter? "Who are you?" Sylvia found herself asking the stranger who seemed to have replaced her daughter. Brielle had social anxiety and wouldn't dare act so shamelessly. "I am your daughter, and I am here to return all the kindness you showed me." A wry smile curled on Diana's lips, enhancing her striking appearance. She glanced at the time-it was already past ten in the morning. It was time to get on with her revenge against those who had wronged her. She gazed at Natalie, rage rippling over her face. Like a frightened child, Natalie ran and hid behind her mother. "Why do you look like you want to kill me?" she whimpered. "Is it that obvious?" Diana deadpanned, her voice icy and laced with contempt. For what they did to the original owner in the past, Diana felt like killing all of them. However, it was not worth it. She had a lot on her plate first before she could seek hard, cold revenge. Natalie swallowed hard, and Sylvia's eyes flickered with worry. "Mom, don't worry. We'll get rid of her the second she marries Richard," Natalie whispered, trying to calm her mother's nerves. "What did you say?" Diana barked, yanking the veil from her hair and the bottom of her dress. "What are you doing? Do you know how much that dress cost?" Sylvia exclaimed, her voice rising in panic. They were in awe at the sight of Diana ruining the dress, a dress that cost hundreds of thousands for rent. At least, she wanted to give Brielle a good expensive wedding so she wouldn't complain later. Once the old man died, Brielle would get the inheritance, and they would be set for life. Now, Brielle only had to be complacent. "Do I look like I care, Mother?" Diana taunted, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her new body had olive skin, a small nose, and heart-shaped lips. 'Brielle, you're pretty, but why so much makeup?' Diana thought in disgust. Her face felt stiff, like someone who had had Botox. The makeup felt like a mask on her skin. She immediately grabbed a wipe and cleared the mess off her face. "What are you doing?" Sylvia questioned from the safety of the back, her tone a mixture of fear and disbelief. "If you haven't gotten the memo, Mother, I am not getting married to that old man," Diana said, putting extra emphasis on the word "mother." In fact, Sylvia could not back down so easily. She drew a deep breath before accusing, "You have to; you owe me. I took care of you for years." In truth, they had adopted Brielle when she was left in the rain in front of their house. George Smith had taken her in; unfortunately, he died when she was a teenager. Hence, Sylvia saw Brielle only as a burden and mistreated her. Applying lipstick and a little blush, Diana was pleased with the results. She looked gorgeous, even with less makeup. The original owner had no fashion sense at all. Now, she was here to amend it. Grabbing the phone from the table, she smiled, her expression defiant. "Make me."