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