The Black Widow's Substitute Vow

Chicago’s most feared woman, Seraphina Marino—the “Black Widow”—demanded to marry my stepbrother, Finn Kovac.

They called her the Black Widow for a reason; every man she married wound up dead.

Finn was terrified, so I pulled him into a corner and proposed a bargain.

I offered to take his place. My price? He had to guard my father's grave at the abandoned St. Mary's Church for three years. And under no circumstances was he to open the secret chamber in the crypt.

Believing the chamber held the legendary secret ledgers of the Five Families—and the endless wealth they promised—he agreed without a second thought.

The greed etched on his face was so blatant I had to hide a sneer.

He’d better be ready. I couldn't wait to see his face when he found the special gift I'd left for him.

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1

"I'm sorry, Julian," my stepmother, Carmela Kovac, said, her voice trembling. "But we have no choice. We can't afford to offend the Marino family."

She pressed a lace handkerchief to her eye, feigning heartbreak. The sight of her crocodile tears made my stomach churn.

In Chicago, everyone knew who Seraphina Marino was—she was the queen of the city's underworld. A car bomb had shattered her legs six months ago. Since then, she’d become even colder, more bloodthirsty—a walking nightmare.

And the man she wanted was the heir to the Kovac family, Finn Kovac.

But now, I was the one being forced to take Finn's place.

I was the adopted son, the disposable substitute.

Finn stood off to the side, a smug sneer he didn't bother to hide.

The family lawyer’s voice broke the silence. "Mr. Valeriano, once you seal this contract with your thumbprint in blood, you will officially become Ms. Marino's husband. As compensation, the Kovac family will transfer a considerable sum to you."

I lifted my head and stared at the three vile faces before me. The scene felt hauntingly familiar.

In my last life, I’d clenched my fists, demanding through tears of rage what gave them the right. All I got in return were Carmela’s sharp, ice-cold words.

"You should get on your knees and thank us, you useless trash! Becoming Seraphina's husband is the greatest honor of your pathetic life. Don't you dare act like you're too good for it!"

After that, they drugged me and sent me to Seraphina's estate, where she treated me like a dog.

Only later did I learn the truth. Seraphina only wanted to marry Finn because she suspected the Kovacs were the masterminds behind the car bomb that killed her parents.

She planned to marry her enemy's son, torture him, and draw out the real culprit.

But the Kovac family couldn't bear to sacrifice their own flesh and blood. So they sent me, the substitute.

Seraphina's plan was ruined, and all her pent-up fury was unleashed on me.

In that grim, luxurious hall, she’d lifted my chin with the tip of her dagger, her gaze so cold it stole the air from my lungs.

"Did Carmela send you to humiliate me?" she spat. "Tell her—the game has just begun."

I died during my second winter as Seraphina's husband. By then, I had lost my mind. On a snowy night, I fled the estate and was gunned down in a street shootout.

My soul floated in the air, watching as Seraphina stood over my body for a long, long time. There was no thrill of revenge on her face, only a profound, repressed sorrow.

Meanwhile, the Kovac family, using the vast empire they had stolen from my father, lorded over Chicago.

It was that overwhelming hatred that allowed me to be reborn. Reborn to this very day, as they tried to force my bloody thumbprint onto the contract.

"Fine," I said, my voice steady. "I agree."

I picked up the small knife from the table, sliced my thumb without emotion, and pressed the bloody print onto the document.

The three of them froze, staring at me in disbelief. They had clearly expected me to struggle, to break down and beg for mercy.

Carmela blinked, her surprise quickly morphing into cold satisfaction. The practiced smile on my stepfather Silas Kovac's face stretched into a smug grin.

Only Finn looked unsettled, the smugness on his face slowly souring into suspicion.

After pressing my print, I stood up and turned to him.

"A deal's a deal. You'll go to the abandoned church outside the city and guard my father's grave for three years. Don't forget."

"What's the catch?" he demanded, taking a step back.

I offered a faint smile. "Haven't you always wondered how my so-called destitute father could have left me that abandoned church?"

Finn's pupils constricted. That had always bothered him.

My biological father, Nico Valeriano, was a legendary Don in the Chicago underworld before his untimely death. Carmela stole everything he left behind, telling everyone he was a nobody and I was just some bastard she’d found on the street.

Only that dilapidated church remained in my name.

She thought the church was worthless. It was only later, when rumors of secret tunnels beneath it began to circulate, that she was filled with regret.

I leaned in close, my voice a conspiratorial whisper in Finn's ear. "The truth is, my papa was no ordinary man. He was the Don of the Valeriano family. And that secret chamber buried beneath his grave? It holds something that would drive the entire Chicago underworld mad—the secret ledgers of the Five Families. Endless wealth. Absolute power."