The second I opened my eyes, I knew.

I was twenty-seven again.

Back when I was the Leone heiress. The golden girl of Arezzo. Engaged to the Don of the Grimaldis—Marco Grimaldi.

Handsome. Loaded. Time magazine's "No.1 Most Desirable Husband in the World." Even the royal family of Inglane had tried to marry a princess off to him.

Everyone called me the luckiest woman alive.

Yeah. Right.

The first thing I did after coming back?

I grabbed the marriage contract and walked straight to my father's affair daughter—

the fiancée Marco had actually wanted all along.

Bella Leone.

I slid the contract across the table. "It's yours. You're marrying Marco."

She just stared at me.

Six years. That's how long I'd chased him. And now I was handing over the contract like it meant nothing.

"Everyone thinks you're the better match anyway," I said. "So go ahead. Convince Dad to get the Grimaldis to switch the contract. You can have the Grimaldi Donna title."

Not this time.

I'm not becoming that suffocated, invisible Don's wife ever again.

Bella's sweet little smile almost split when she heard me. Excitement flashed—then she snapped back to fragile and pitiful.

"Lara, what are you even saying? How could I compare to you? How could I take Marco—or his wife's place—from you?"

I caught the switch and kept my voice steady. "Dad's dumped a fortune turning you into a socialite. Sounds perfect, right? You marry into the Grimaldi Family, play Donna. And relax—you didn't steal Marco. I'm just done with him."

Her mask finally cracked. "That's insane! Girls would kill to marry into the Grimaldi Family! Do you even get how exceptional Marco is? And you're 'done' with him?"

I took a slow sip of tea. "If he's that amazing, he's all yours. You've always liked hand-me-downs anyway."

"Fine. I'll talk to Dad right now. Don't come crying when you regret this." She ripped the contract from my hand.

I smiled. The anger was obvious. The glee under it? Even louder. "Relax. I won't."

I already paid the price for marrying Marco once.

When I was single, I loved freedom. I burned bright. I lived loud.

Marco? He was a machine. No warmth. He demanded perfection—from himself, from me.

I loved noise. Drinks. Dancing. Checking out cute guys. He had every bar and club in the city blacklist me.

I loved traveling—the savannas, the northern lights. He took my passport and locked down my world.

I loved art. He called it useless. Smashed my paints. Broke my camera. Let his people trash my work until it meant nothing.

I was losing my mind. But I loved him. So I memorized every house rule like gospel. Filed down every sharp edge. Tried to be the perfect Donna for him.

Still wasn't enough.

At a banquet, one of Bella's little friends took a shot at me—said I was wild, unruly, nothing next to sweet, obedient Bella.

I snapped.

Then we were on the floor, limbs tangled, fighting.

Marco walked in. Didn't even look at me.

He faced the girl instead, voice cool, detached. "My apologies. I didn't discipline her properly. She's nowhere near as well-mannered as her sister."

Just like that, I went still. Blood turned to ice.

That's when it hit me.

Marco never loved me.

Right there, I decided—I was done with the Grimaldi family.

Before I could drive off, Bella latched onto me. Slid into the passenger seat, grabbed the wheel, forced the car to a stop. She wanted me to sign a clean break—leave with nothing.

We crashed.

Right before everything went dark, I saw Marco pull an unconscious Bella from the wreck. His eyes were red when he looked at me, bleeding out in the driver's seat.

"Bella's obedient. Sensible. I should've married her from the start. Not you."

Tears blurred my vision. I closed my eyes—and that was it.

Then I opened them again.

Second chance.

I stared at the woman in the mirror—young, alive. Drew a breath. Picked up my phone.

Deleted Marco's number.

This time, I don't want him.

And I sure as hell won't be some suffocating Don's wife.

I'll be me.

Free. Radiant. Alive.

Lara Leone.

I tossed my phone down, got dressed—actually dressed—and hit a bar. First time in forever.

Carlotta, my bestie, just blinked at me. "Lara? You're the one who freaks out over Marco's moods. You're getting married. And you show up here looking like that? You know he hates this place. You trying to start a war?"

I watched the hot guys onstage move to the beat and knocked back my drink.

"What's his temper got to do with me? I handed the marriage contract to Bella."

Her jaw dropped.

"Starting today, being happy isn't illegal. And freedom? That's priceless. Tell me why Marco even compares to these dancing hunks."

Carlotta didn't laugh.

She went pale.

Slowly, she pointed behind me.

I turned—met Marco's ice-cold stare.

"You block me so you can grind on these little boy toys?"

Before I could move, he shut out the screams, grabbed me, hauled me out like I weighed nothing, and tossed me into his car.

Engine roared.

"My rule," he said, voice low and deadly, "you're home before eleven. You break it? Ten thousand words. Reflect. And don't test me again."

The air around him felt like a loaded gun.

I didn't flinch.

Last life, I thought the ice was fake. Thought somewhere under all that control, Marco loved me.

So I stayed. Lived by his rules. Choked on them.

Not this time. I know better.

"I'm not writing anything. I'm not the one marrying you. Your rules? Not my problem."

He slammed the brakes. The car jerked.

He turned, eyes dark, something twisting under the surface.

After a beat, he bit out, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Seeing Mr. Ice-Cold lose his cool?

Yeah. That felt good.

I thought about it. He hates me—the ridiculous fiancée he got stuck with.

If I told him right now that sweet, obedient Bella had taken my place, wouldn't that just make him happy faster?

Hard pass.

I kept my mouth shut and stared out the window.

Obviously, he didn't take me seriously.

The car stopped in front of my house.

"The reflection essay," he said flat. "On my desk tomorrow."

I let out a cold laugh, stepped out, and walked away.

I hadn't even hit the door when Dad stormed out.

"Have you lost your mind?" he snapped. "Marco's a Don. You know how many families would kill for that alliance? And you wanna call off the engagement?"

Bella stood off to the side, all soft eyes and fake concern.

"Lara, please. Don't be reckless. You can't throw away our family's future over a mood."

I laughed and looked straight at Dad—Vittorio Leone. "Relax. If I don't marry him, you've still got your side chick's daughter.

"She's been playing sweet and obedient just to marry into power. She's way more suitable than me.

"Or what—you scared the Grimaldis won't claim an illegitimate daughter, so you don't dare bring up the switch?"

Bella froze.

Dad's face went tight—guilt, then rage.

"Lara Leone!" he barked. "You think this engagement depends on you? I'll go to the Grimaldi estate right now and settle it!"

He grabbed Bella and dragged her out.

At the door, he threw one last shot. "With that temper, once you leave Marco, no decent family will want you. Don't come crying when you regret it!"

He had no idea.

His words don't land anymore.

Compared to being trapped in that car—watching the man I loved carry my father's other daughter while I bled out—this?

Nothing.

I went upstairs and slept like a baby.

***

The doorbell dragged me out of sleep at dawn.

Marco stood there, sharp suit, colder than the morning. First words out of his mouth—"The reflection."

I yawned. "Didn't write it. Won't."

His jaw tightened. "When are you gonna learn how to behave?"

"Marco. Not in this lifetime."

That hit him. I don't push back. He knows it.

Before he could press, Bella stepped in. Guess she'd come back at some point.

"Marco, don't blame Lara." Soft. Sweet. Always sweet.

She handed him a neat little letter. "She was in a bad mood last night. I wrote it for her. Take a look."

Marco took the letter. His eyes stayed on me, colder now.

"You grew up in the same house. Why can't you learn from your sister? Be obedient. Have some discipline. Don't let this happen again. Go change. You're coming with me to the reception."

No pause. No hesitation. "I'm not going. Aren't you happier with Bella? Take her."

That did it. His voice turned sharp. "Lara Leone. You're the fiancée my family chose."

Chosen.

Last life, he married me for the contract. Not love. If he'd been free, he would've picked Bella.

Fine. I'll give him what he wants.

I held his gaze. "Marco Grimaldi, I'm not your fiancée anymore."

The shock in his eyes? Clear as day.

"Lara, quit provoking Marco. Come on, I'll help you pick a gown."

Bella slapped a hand over my mouth and dragged me upstairs.

Door shut. I pulled free. "No one's here. Drop the act."

The sweet mask vanished. "I was doing you a favor. Letting you keep some dignity in front of Marco.

"You have no clue. Yesterday, when Dad said I could take your place, Marco's parents were thrilled. Said I'm thoughtful. Gentle. Unlike you—rude, embarrassing. Not fit to be a Don's wife."

I lifted a brow. "Oh yeah? Then why not tell him the bride's been swapped? Scared he'll call it off once he knows?"

Her face went stiff. "Don't be ridiculous. If he knew, he'd be relieved it's me. I just want to surprise him on the wedding day. So keep your mouth shut."

"Relax. I'm not interested in sabotaging your marriage."

This life, I'm choosing myself.

***

Marco still made me go to the ball.

In front of everyone, he took Bella's hand and led her to the floor. Right before he walked off, he shot me a look. "You don't even know a proper waltz. Watch your sister. Learn something."

They moved like they'd rehearsed it their whole lives. Perfect timing. Perfect smiles.

Whispers floated through the crowd.

"Isn't Lara Leone supposed to be Don Grimaldi's future wife? Why's he dancing with her sister?"

"Please. He obviously prefers Bella. She's elegant. Composed. Lara's gorgeous, sure—but too flashy to be Donna."

I'd had enough.

I slipped out to the terrace for air.

Bella showed up minutes later.

"Lara, hiding out here alone? Don't tell me you're jealous after watching Marco dance with me."

She moved in close, eyes bright like she'd already won. Her voice dropped. "I told you. Between us, anyone would pick the proper one. Even Marco.

"You're pathetic. Your mom couldn't beat mine back then. And now you can't beat me.

"Same blood. Same failures."

Most of her trash talk? Whatever.

But she dragged my mom into it.

That crossed the line.

I slapped her. Hard.

Marco had just walked up. He saw everything.

"Bella!"

She glanced at him—then stumbled back on purpose.

And tipped over the railing.

Marco's shout split the air as she fell into the pool below.

Chaos exploded downstairs.

I watched her thrash in the water, face blank.

Wind brushed past me.

Marco dove in and hauled Bella out, holding her tight.

I let out a soft laugh, pushed my hair back, and turned to leave.

Didn't make it far.

Marco—towel over his shoulders—grabbed my wrist. Fury and disbelief all over his face. "You pushed your sister off that terrace. I told you to learn from her. This what you learned? Come back and apologize."

I jerked free. "Apologize? She jumped. If you're dumb enough to fall for it, that's your problem. Why should I say sorry?"

His eyes burned red. "You're hopeless."

He didn't even look at me when he spoke to the guards. "If she won't apologize, teach her a lesson. Hold her in the decorative pool. She doesn't come out without my word. Not till the reception's over."

I fought. "Marco! Who do you think you are? You don't get to touch me!"

He grabbed me, dragged me to the pool's edge. Voice low. Controlled. "I'm your fiancé.

"You embarrassed your sister in front of everybody. If I don't discipline you, your father and my parents will do worse.

"Remember this. After we're married, you won't pull a stunt like this again."

"You're not my fiancé. We already—"

I never got it out.

The guards grabbed me and shoved my head under the water.

Winter night. The ornamental pool was ice-cold, nothing like the heated one. The filth and cold sank straight into my bones.

I choked, clawing for air. Every time I broke the surface, they shoved me back down. Again. Again.

Then a sharp cramp twisted low in my stomach.

Warmth spread beneath me.

My period.

Bright red bled into the water, staining half the pool. The murk turned metallic.

My face went white. I was freezing. In pain.

Even the guards hesitated.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard them call out, voices tight.

"Don... She's on her period. There's a lot of blood. We still going?"

Silence.

Then Marco's voice. Cold. Certain. "Continue. Otherwise, she'll never learn."

Learn?

To him, my resistance didn't matter. My pain didn't matter. My words meant nothing.

He wanted obedience. That's it.

The despair hit harder than the cold.

My tears slipped into the filthy water, gone without a trace.

I couldn't fight anymore.

Darkness crept in.

I sank into the blood-stained water and blacked out.