Vows Forged in a Past Inferno

Papa was stunned.

"Don't you hate Lorenzo? You said he was bossy and clingy."

A bitter smile touched my lips. In my past life, after I burned to death, Cillian had tossed my charred remains into the Charles River.

It was Lorenzo who had arrived, and against his own family's objections, recovered my shattered remains from the cold river and the ruins to give me a proper burial. He even traded all his shares in a Wall Street fund just to have me buried in the finest cemetery.

It was only when I saw him kneeling before my grave, sobbing like a lost child, that I finally understood: Lorenzo was the one who had truly loved me all along.

"Papa, Lorenzo may be two years younger than me, but he’s open and straightforward—he doesn't play games. He has... feelings for me. Unlike Cillian, who's already plotting how to use me before we're even married."

"Besides, you and Don Rinaldi have been friends for years. I'm sure I won't be mistreated if I marry into their family."

My father pondered for a moment, a fierce smile spreading across his face. He turned and instructed our family's Consigliere to arrange the meeting.

I retreated to the estate's library, trying to clear my head.

Outside the window, the garden roses were in full bloom, but my memory held only a field of charred ruins. After I died, Cillian torched the Carvallo estate, dug up my father's ashes from the cemetery, and scattered them into the sea.

His demonic expression was seared into my mind.

"You old bastard, try using your power to pressure me now! If it wasn't for your family, Trinity and I would have a house full of kids instead of being torn apart by death!"

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I stroked the cold mahogany bookshelf, letting the grief wash over me.

Suddenly, I heard the idle chatter of a few of Cillian's soldati from the corridor.

"That Donnelly kid actually went to the Don tonight to ask for his mistress to be in the wedding tomorrow."

"In it? Nah, he wants to have the ceremony with her. He wants to 'marry' that vixen at the same time."

"That's outrageous! A wife and a mistress getting married together? He’s publicly humiliating our Principessa and the Don."

"I heard Cillian never wanted to marry the Principessa anyway. It was she who saw his family was going broke and insisted on throwing herself at him. Some Principessa. So shameless, getting into catfights over a man. I wonder how low she has to stoop just to get him into her bed."

Their words grew uglier, even imagining me licking Cillian's leather shoes just to get him to look at me.

A wave of bitterness washed over me. So this was what I had become in their eyes: pathetic. To think, it was Cillian who had pursued me first.

The Carvallo and Donnelly families' businesses were intertwined, making us childhood friends.

Ever since we were children, Cillian and I had been inseparable.

Back then, he would sit beside me, carefully peeling pistachios for me.

He would wipe the cream from the corner of my mouth and take me to see the Fourth of July fireworks over the Charles River.

When we grew up, he played the part of my guardian, chasing away every suitor who approached me.

I would pout in protest.

"Cillian, you've scared them all away. What am I going to do if I can't get married now?"

He would throw an arm around my shoulders.

"You can only marry me. I won't let any other man near you."

Later, the year I was accepted to Yale, he set off fireworks all night to celebrate my coming of age.

That day, under the brilliant explosions of light, the fire in the young man's eyes was blazing as he knelt on one knee and slid a ring onto my finger.

But all that changed the moment he met my classmate, Trinity Bryant, the perpetually teary-eyed orphan girl.

He was completely enchanted by her fragility, like a porcelain doll that could shatter at a touch. The unshed tear trembling on her long lashes sent Cillian's protective instincts into overdrive.

Worried I would "bully" her, Cillian bought her an off-campus apartment so she would have her own "safe haven."

It wasn't that I hadn't fought back or protested. But all I ever got was the same line:

"I'm just sympathizing with her, taking care of her. Can you stop being so unreasonable?"

Years of breaking up and making up had finally brought us to this cliff's edge.

I let out a long sigh. Just as I turned to go back to my room, Cillian suddenly lunged from the shadows and slammed me against the massive mahogany bookshelf.