Reborn To Ruin: The Mafia Queen's Revenge

I spent twenty-one years trying to be the perfect Mafia Princess, treating my illegitimate sister, Mia, with nothing but grace.

That kindness is exactly what got me killed.

My husband, Luca, didn't take me on a honeymoon. He dragged me into the soundproof basement of our estate.

Mia was there, too. Not to help me, but to gloat.

She laughed as she admitted to poisoning our mother with arsenic, watching with glee as Luca brought a serrated knife to my chest.

"You were always too soft, Sera," he sneered, carving through my skin while I begged for mercy.

I died in that cold, dark room, choking on my own blood and the bitter taste of betrayal.

But I didn't stay dead.

I woke up gasping for air, clutching a chest that was smooth and unscarred.

The calendar on my nightstand read May 12, 2018.

It was five years ago. The very morning I was scheduled to sign the marriage contract that would seal my fate.

I looked at the paper on the vanity.

In my last life, I signed it with a trembling hand.

This time, I flicked open my silver Zippo and watched the flames eat Luca’s name.

I didn't pack a dress. I packed a pistol and a stack of cash.

I was going to Las Vegas.

There was only one man dangerous enough to help me destroy the New York families.

I walked into the underground fight club, locked eyes with the deadliest man in the room, and smiled.

"Dante Cavallaro," I said.

"I'm here to make you a King."

Chapter 1

Sera POV

The phantom sensation of a serrated knife carving through my skin woke me screaming, though the sound died in my throat.

My lungs heaved, desperate for air that didn't smell like mildew and dried blood. I clawed at my chest, expecting to find the gash Luca had left there, but my fingers met smooth, unbroken skin.

The expensive silk of my nightgown clung to my sweat-drenched body.

I wasn't in the basement. I wasn't dead.

I scrambled for the phone on the bedside table. The light blinded me for a second before the numbers swam into focus.

May 12, 2018.

It was five years ago. Five years before Mia poisoned my mother. Five years before Luca Vance, the man I was supposed to marry, watched his men drag me into the dark.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling. The silence of the Moretti estate was heavy, suffocating. Downstairs, I knew my father was likely drinking scotch in his study, proud that he had secured a union with the Vance family.

On the vanity table sat the contract. The paper was thick, cream-colored, and binding. An arranged marriage to Luca Vance, a rising Capo who would eventually become a monster.

I stood up. My legs felt weak, but my mind was sharpening with every second. The terror of the torture chamber was fading, replaced by a cold, hard stone