Reborn Principessa: She's Done Holding On

While I've been unconscious for 12 days after getting into a car crash, I end up spending 12 years wandering in my dreams.

In my dreams, I play the role as the fake mafia principessa. I've committed all atrocious crimes for the sake of my lover, Marcello Gallo, only for him to expose me in front of everyone on our wedding day. In the end, I freeze to death on the streets.

When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Marcello brings the real principessa, Viviana Sabato, home.

He's still gazing at me as sincerely as he did in the past. But I know that in the future, he will cross his fingers while making our vows before the priest.

Even if I have to go through everything one more time, I know that I must give up on Marcello no matter how genuine his feelings are for me right now.

I had just opened my eyes when I was informed by the nurse that I had been in a coma for 12 days. I, however, knew that I had lived for 12 years in my dreams. I went from being a pampered Principessa to being Marcello Gallo's most lethal weapon during that period.

I pleaded with Papa, Vincenzo Sabato, to start a blood war to eliminate the opposing famiglia in a single night when Marcello wanted the underground casino in Veridia.

I even remembered that the opposing famiglia's successor was Stefano Lombardi. I had staged a car accident that left him paralyzed for the rest of his life.

I found it utterly ridiculous when I didn't even hesitate to sign the consent form when Viviana Sabato, the real Principessa of the Sabato famiglia, suffered kidney failure.

Marcello held me and said, "I'm in your debt in this lifetime, Valentina."

I merely smiled and told him he didn't owe me anything.

It was three months later, at our wedding, that Marcello publicly took Viviana's hand and, before the guests, God, and the priest, stated coldly, "I never loved you, Valentina. I felt disgusted every single day we were together."

He went on to detail my "crimes" point by point—the very things I had done for his sake were now used as proof of my guilt.

It rained heavily that day. Marcello's bodyguards threw me out of the church, and my wedding dress grew heavy and cold as it soaked through. I walked three blocks before collapsing at the mouth of an alley, where I froze to death on what should have been my wedding day.

It was then that the chauffeur, Luca Russo, spoke up and dragged me back to the present. "You don't look so well, Ms. Sabato. Do you want to go back to the hospital to get checked again?"

I shook my head and turned my gaze to the streets rushing past the car window. I was aware that nothing had happened yet—Marcello's hatred hadn't taken root yet, and Stefano was still unharmed. I