That night, I dreamed of my last life.

I remembered.

Every ugly, humiliating piece of it.

Because of Isabella, I had screamed at Lucas day after day. I had smashed glasses, overturned tables, and turned the Gambino house into a battlefield.

In the end, during one of those fights, I shoved Lucas's mother away from me.

She fell backward, struck her head against the marble floor, and never opened her eyes again.

Lucas filed for divorce that same week.

The moment the papers were signed, the family lost its balance.

The capos started choosing sides. Old grudges surfaced. Men who had smiled at our table for years suddenly pulled knives from behind their backs.

My father was ambushed outside one of our restaurants and gunned down in his own car.

My mother collapsed at his funeral and never woke up.

And I died in an alley in Queens on a freezing, rainy night, too weak to even call for help.

"Dad! Mom!"

I shot up in bed, choking for air.

Cold sweat ran down my face and soaked through the sheets.

"Miss Sophia?" one of the maids called from outside the door. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

My voice came out hoarse.

A minute later, I slipped out of my room and walked barefoot down the hall to my parents' bedroom.

I stopped outside their door.

Behind it, I could hear my father's low, steady breathing and my mother shifting softly in her sleep.

They were still alive.

For now.

Only then did the fear locked in my chest loosen a little.

The next morning, Lucas brought Isabella to my parents' private sitting room to explain himself.

My mother's expression was ice-cold.

"Lucas," she said. "Is this what you call taking care of my daughter? You brought another woman into her house. What comes next? Do you plan to put her in Sophia's bed too?"

Lucas's mother stood beside him, pale and nervous, trying to apologize before the situation got worse.

Isabella's face turned white.

Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Donna Gambino, I'm so sorry. I thought Sophia had agreed. I didn't know she would change her mind in front of everyone. I'll leave right now."

Then she turned and ran out of the room.

My father, Leo Gambino, Don of the Gambino family, sat in the armchair with a cigar between his fingers.

He took one slow drag.

His face darkened.

Lucas lowered his head, but his jaw was tight.

"Don Leo. Donna. Vincent took a bullet for me at the docks. You always taught me that this family pays its debts. I can't leave his widow out there alone."

My father finally spoke.

"Then write her a check. Enough for her to live well for the rest of her life."

He tapped ash into the tray.

"You have a wife. You have a position in this family. You have responsibilities. And let me be clear: anyone who humiliates my daughter answers to me."

Lucas's face went stiff with rage.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

I watched the scene unfold, and the memories of my last life came rushing back.

This was exactly how it had gone before.

My parents had stood up for me.

They had thrown Lucas out and defended my name.

Not long after that, the Gambino family had begun to fall apart.

Not this time.

I would not let the same thing happen again.

Before anyone else could speak, I opened my mouth.

"It's fine, Mom. Dad."

Everyone turned to look at me.

"The Gambino house has enough rooms for Isabella. Like Lucas said, Vincent died for this family. The least we can do is keep his widow safe."

Lucas's head snapped toward me.

For the first time since he entered the room, he looked genuinely stunned.

He had not expected me to defend him.

Or maybe he had not expected me to stay calm.

"Sorry. I..." Lucas looked away, embarrassed. "I got carried away. I'll go check on Isabella."

He gave my parents a stiff apology, then hurried out. Lucas's mother followed him at once.

The second they were gone, my mother's face turned cold.

"That ungrateful bastard. Does he think he runs this family now? Bringing people into this house without even asking us?"

"Mom." I reached over and took her hand.

My father looked at me, his expression unreadable.

"I'll have my men deal with him."

"No, Dad. Don't." I cut him off before he could finish. "I'm divorcing Lucas."

My mother stared at me.

"Sophia... baby, we're sorry. We should never have pushed you into this marriage."

Three years.

Lucas and I had been married for three years, and he had never touched me.

He said he was not ready for children.

I believed him.

I waited.

And in my last life, the moment our divorce was final, Lucas married Isabella.

Six months later, she gave birth to his child.

My father had been the one to raise Lucas up.

He had taken him from a street soldier with nothing but nerve and a gun, and made him underboss of the Gambino family.

All because Lucas was ruthless.

Because he did not fear death.

Because my father thought a man like that could protect me.

My mother squeezed my hand and sighed.

"Honey, this marriage is tied to too many families. A divorce won't be simple."

"I know."

No matter what it took, this time I would cut myself free.

I took my father's hand.

"Dad, has anything been happening in the family lately? Any trouble with the crews? Any capos acting strange? Any talk from the other families?"

He narrowed his eyes, thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"Nothing serious."

Good. We still had time.

My mother frowned. "Why are you asking that?"

I gave her some vague excuse and stood up.

There was too much to do, and not nearly enough time.

Lucas and Isabella returned to the Gambino estate that evening.

The moment Isabella saw me, she hurried over.

"Sophia, I promise I'll be gone as soon as I find somewhere safe. I don't want to come between you and Lucas."

I said nothing.

Her face flushed with embarrassment.

Lucas stepped forward, his expression dark.

"Sophia, say something. Don't play games with me."

I pulled the divorce papers from my pocket and slapped them onto the table between us.

"Sign it. We end this clean."

He froze.

"You're serious?"

I laughed, sharp and cold.

"Completely. I'm giving you both what you want."

For one brief second, triumph flashed across Isabella's face.

Then she stepped closer and laid a hand on Lucas's arm.

"Sophia, don't do this out of anger. Lucas never meant to hurt you."

Even she didn't sound like she believed it.

"I don't want his love. You can have it."

"Sophia, don't say that. Lucas and I have never crossed a line."

I scoffed.

"You crossed the line the moment you moved under my roof."

Isabella's face went white.

Lucas stepped in front of her, shielding her as if I were the threat.

"Sophia, are you done trying to punish me?"

"I'm not punishing anyone. I want a divorce."

His brows drew together.

"This marriage holds half the city together. You break it, people will choose sides."

"I don't care." I cut him off.

"The Gambino family will give up its claim to the new dock territory—the one you and Vincent bled for. Sign, and it's yours."

One dock territory was cheap, if it bought my family a way out.

Lucas hesitated.

He was already underboss of the Gambino family.

Men like Lucas didn't walk away from power unless they were paid to do it.

"No—"

I cut him off before he could finish.

"You brought another woman into my house without asking anyone. Do you really think the Gambino family will ever accept you as one of us now? If you don't sign, my father will strip you of your underboss title and cut you out before sunrise."

I looked him in the eye. "I'm giving you a way out with your dignity intact."

Lucas stared at me for a long moment, weighing the offer.

Finally, he grabbed the pen.

"Fine. I'll sign."

The papers were only the first step.

A marriage like ours still had to be unwound in front of both families, and that alone would take at least a month.

A month was enough.

Enough time to convince my parents to leave New York.

Enough time to get them to Miami before the war started.

If my memory was right, the war between the Gambino family and the Bellandi family would break out in a little over a month.

I gave Lucas and Isabella one week to move out of the Gambino estate.

Lucas had kept a townhouse in Brooklyn for years.

I used to wonder whether he had prepared it for himself and Isabella, waiting for the day he finally got rid of me.

The thought made me laugh. Bitterly.

Before she left, Lucas's mother grabbed my hands, her face tight with worry.

"Sophia, your parents... they won't come after Lucas, will they?"

I squeezed her hand.

"My parents won't touch him."

She let out a long breath, relief washing over her face.

I turned to head back upstairs.

Isabella stood there in a fitted black dress, blocking my way.

"Well?" she asked softly. "How do I look? Lucas bought it for me this morning."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Move."

"You—"

I brushed past her hard enough to make her stumble and kept walking toward the stairs.

"Sophia."

Lucas grabbed my hand, his voice rough.

I stopped, but I didn't turn around.

"I'll fix this," he said. "Once this is over, I'll come back for you. We can marry again. I swear."

"Don't bother."

I wrenched my hand out of his grip and kept walking.

I didn't look back.