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.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed.

Marco sat beside me, holding my hand. Faint shadows under his eyes.

I woke. Something like relief flashed across his face—gone a second later.

"I spoke to your father. He won't make this harder for you. But you promise me—you won't hurt your sister again."

I almost laughed. Anger burned hotter than the IV in my arm. I pulled my hand away.

He frowned, about to say more—

And Bella limped in. Small steps. Big act.

"I know Lara didn't mean to push me. When I heard she fainted, I had to come see her."

The performance made my stomach turn.

Then Marco stepped outside to take a call.

Bella's sweetness vanished.

"Lara, the wedding's almost here. You better heal fast. How else are you gonna watch me wear this when I marry Marco?"

She opened the box.

My mother's wedding necklace.

"So ugly, though. Good thing Dad agreed to take it apart. Turn it into gemstone earrings and a ring. He's so good to me."

Rage shot through me. I ignored the pain, forced myself upright, reached for it—

Before I touched her, Bella screamed and dropped to the floor.

Marco walked in right on cue.

She looked up at him, all fragile. "Marco, don't blame Lara. She was just upset when she saw me. That's why she pushed me."

I stared at her. "You love acting, huh? Fine. I'll give you something real to act about."

I slapped her. Hard.

Marco shoved me back, rage all over his face. "Lara, you never change. You're hurting your sister again. Look at you. How are you fit to be a future Donna?"

I hit the bed frame. Something cracked. Warm blood ran down my forehead.

His pupils tightened. He stepped toward me—

Bella grabbed his arm right on time. "Marco, I'm fine. Just my ankle. But Lara's bleeding. Shouldn't you check her first?"

He froze. His eyes flicked between us.

Then he bent and scooped Bella up instead. His voice went flat. "Forget her. If she doesn't learn, she'll keep hurting you."

He looked at me like I was nothing. "Since you won't admit your mistake, you're going to the basement. You don't come out until the day before the wedding."

He knew I was scared of the dark. He knew about the claustrophobia.

His face stayed cold. "Fear is the only thing you understand."

They dragged me into the basement.

Dark. Narrow. No windows.

I was a kid again—locked in pitch black by my father. The memory hit like ice water.

I curled up in the corner, shaking. Sweat soaked my back.

Time didn't move.

Just when my mind started to crack, the door creaked open.

Bella stood there, smiling. "I thought Marco would go harder. Just locking you up? That's soft."

She clapped. Two stone-faced men walked in.

"Let's spice it up. Strap her in. Make sure she remembers."

They forced me onto a freezing metal chair. Leather bit into my wrists and ankles. Cold pads pressed against my temples.

Panic slammed through me. I thrashed against the restraints.

"You think you can do this and walk away? You really believe I won't kill you when I get out?"

"Kill me?"

Bella laughed. "You think you'd get the chance? Marco would stop you first. Did you forget? He always believes me. He always picks me."

Every word cut deep.

She wasn't wrong.

No matter the truth, Marco chose her. Every time.

My hands went slack.

Bella pressed the button.

"Ah—!"

Electric pain ripped through me. My body jerked, out of control. I screamed.

Darkness swallowed my vision. The pain tore me apart.

When I woke up, I was in my own bed.

Marco stood there, frowning at how pale I looked. "I only locked you up for a few days to reflect. How did you end up like this?"

I closed my eyes. Didn't want to see him. Didn't want to talk.

I didn't expect him to believe me anymore.

He sighed. "The wedding's soon. You'll be center stage. Get yourself together."

The wedding.

So he still had no idea the bride had been switched.

Dad hurried over, pulling him aside. "Of course. We'll make sure the bride looks radiant."

After Marco left, Dad turned on me. "Listen carefully. You are not showing up tomorrow to cause trouble. Don't embarrass me."

I let out a soft laugh. "Relax. Even if you begged, I wouldn't go to that wedding."

***

I slept till morning.

Next day, once everyone headed to the wedding, I grabbed my passport, packed a bag, slipped on my mom's necklace, and took a cab to the airport. Didn't look back.

We passed the venue.

Marco stood out front in a sharp suit, face lit up, waiting for his bride.

My heart stayed steady.

When Bella walked out instead, he'd be smiling just the same.

Call it my wedding gift.

I had another one, too. For my father and his precious mistake.

The cab turned the corner. My eyes went cold. I hit the remote.

The blast ripped through the air.

The Leone mansion went up in flames.

The fortune my mother bled for?

It would never belong to that cheating bastard or his daughter.

***

Third-Person POV

Meanwhile, Marco waited, tight as a wire—then froze.

The bride stepping out wasn't Lara.

It was Bella.

His smile dropped. Gone.

"Marco, of course it's me. Didn't your family tell you? They said I'm a better fit to be your wife than Lara. And she agreed."

His eyes went sharp. He shoved her hard.

Bella yelped, stumbling back into the bushes. Her dress snagged on a branch and ripped. The veil slipped sideways, hair falling loose, a mess.

Marco didn't even look at her. He scanned the place, breathing rough, barely holding it together.

"Where's Lara?! Where is she?!"

An explosion ripped through the distance.

One of Marco's guys came sprinting over, panic all over his face.

"Don! The Leone mansion just blew! Miss Lara was inside!"

Boom.

Something in Marco's head snapped.

Blank.