"You're my sister. I don't care if I'm drugged—this ain't it. You ain't my cure." Carlo Quaranta's eyes were shot red, chest heaving, but that rage? Way hotter than any craving.

"Even if you make me marry you, I'll never love you."

Vera Este didn't doubt it. Not for a second. He meant every damn word. Last time, she was the so-called "cure"... and it dragged her straight into marriage.

She stared at his face—still young. Felt like it belonged to someone from a whole other life.

Vera Este lost her folks young, growing up in an orphanage until she was ten. Her looks? More curse than blessing—some creep nearly took her home once.

Then Carlo Quaranta showed up like some kinda hero. Hauled her to the Quaranta estate and had his folks adopt her as their own. One minute she was a nobody, next she was a mafia principessa.

He taught her the rules—how to read, how to fight, how to survive in a world where kindness gets you killed.

He was the Don—cold, calculated, ruthless. But with her? He had one soft spot he never let anyone see.

That softness messed with her head. Made her want things she had no business wanting.

In her last life, Gina Chisari—principessa of the Chisari family—played dirty. She threatened Vera with the lives of the orphanage kids just to shove her out of Montavera and away from the Quaranta name.

Vera brushed it off. Thought Gina couldn't touch anything on Quaranta turf.

Then Carlo got drugged... and Vera gave in. Gave herself to him, became his so-called cure, and ended up his wife.

On their wedding day, the orphanage went up in flames. Faulty wiring, no survivors.

That place and Carlo were all she had. When she thought of the director's soft smile or the kids' laughter, it gutted her.

After the wedding, Carlo iced her out. No warmth, no words. Like she was just some stranger crashing his life.

She figured he couldn't handle how their bond had shifted. Thought if she waited long enough, he'd come around.

So she waited. Her whole damn life.

Truth only hit right before she died—right there on his phone. Gina'd been with him the whole time.

Gina had drugged him. The whole thing? A sick lovers' game.

Vera's "sacrifice" was just a pathetic move in someone else's play.

She died with that weight in her chest—grief, betrayal, and a joke of a life.

Then she woke up.

It was that night all over again—Carlo, drugged out and thrashing on the bed.

This time, she grabbed the phone. "That deal you offered—sending me abroad if you keep the orphanage safe. I'm in."

Two beats of silence. Then Gina laughed, all fake sunshine. "Finally came to your senses? Don't worry, the visa's already processing. Once I'm your sister-in-law, I'll—"

Vera cut her off. "Save it. You drugged Carlo, didn't you? Get over here. He's not gonna hold out much longer."

She hung up.

Carlo was clawing at his own clothes now, the drug fully kicked in.

He was burning up, eyes glassy and wild. He reached for her—pure instinct.

She shoved him back without blinking.

As she turned to leave, his voice snapped through the air. "Vera! Don't you walk out on me! Get back here!"

She paused.

Footsteps echoed outside.

She glanced back once. "The one you really need's almost here."

Then she walked out.

The door shut behind her, sealing in the heat, the chaos—and two lifetimes' worth of obsession.

This time, she wasn't sticking around.

This time, she didn't want to be his bride.

The next morning, Vera's door flew open.

Carlo stormed in, all fire and fury. Eyes bloodshot, jaw tight.

"Why'd you run last night?" he barked. "Why the hell'd you call Gina?"

Vera blinked. The heat in his voice threw her. 'Wasn't this the dance? I stepped aside. Didn't he want that?'

She gave a small smile. "She's the Chisari principessa. You care about her. Last night, she was the only one who could pull you outta that mess.

"I crossed a line. Got feelings I shouldn't've. But I get it now.

"From here on out, I'll stay in my lane. Wishing you and Gina a long, loving life together."

She'd rehearsed those words a million times in her head.

Last time, she forced the marriage. Lost the only brother who ever loved her. Died alone.

This time? She'd play the good little "sister." No do-overs.

Carlo's scowl darkened.

"What's this now?" he snapped. "You're playing hard to get now?"

Her chest tightened. He didn't believe her. Not one bit.

Truth was—neither did she. But she meant it.

That past life still echoed in her head like a warning siren: 'Don't screw this up again.'

The door opened again.

"Carlo! Didn't you say you were making me breakfast?"

Carlo—born into power, ruled with blood and iron—had never touched a damn frying pan. But for Gina? He did.

She strolled in wearing his shirt, latched onto his arm. Tugged him toward the door, all giggles and clingy hands. He let her. Even held her steady like she was something precious.

Vera's eyes dropped to Gina's hand.

That ring—black obsidian, loaded with power. The kind that let you boss around everyone under Carlo.

It was meant for the Don's wife.

He never gave it to Vera.

But he gave it to Gina.

No wonder Gina burned down the orphanage on Quaranta turf in her last life—and walked.

Love and indifference? Couldn't be louder.

Gina caught Vera's stare, lifted her hand, and gave the ring a little shake. "Carlo says it matches my skin tone. Practically begged me to wear it. What do you think, Vera?"

Vera kept telling herself to let it go. Her chest still felt like a fist.

She dropped her gaze. "Looks good. You're the Chisari principessa. It fits."

"Obviously." Gina smirked, then turned to Carlo, voice all sugar. "Babe, I wanna move in for a few days. But not the guest room—the lighting's awful."

Carlo's tone shifted, soft. "Which one you want?"

Gina glanced around, then landed right on Vera's room. "This one's perfect. Window faces the garden. Best view in the house."

Vera froze.

Back when she first came to the Quaranta estate, nightmares wrecked her sleep. Carlo had given her the room next to his. Decorated it just for her.

He even stayed the whole first month, only leaving once the nightmares stopped.

She let out a bitter smile. If he hadn't been that good to her back then... maybe she wouldn't have mistaken it for love. Wouldn't have crossed that line.

She'd lived too easy in her past life. Now that she was stepping back, she hadn't expected this kind of hit.

"Carlo..." The name slipped out before she could stop it—soft, almost pleading.

His reply came ice-cold. "Didn't you hear? Clear out of your room."

"But—"

"No but." His voice snapped. "That room's for the lady of the house. You've been squatting in it for years. Time to hand it back."

Vera's eyes stung.

Right. She was just the adopted one. Now that the real lady was here, what right did she have to stay in the room next to the Don's?

She was leaving soon anyway. Didn't matter where she slept.

"Fine. I'll pack." She stood.

Her eyes landed on the custom handgun on the table, and bitterness surged.

She'd made it when she was eighteen—a gift for Carlo. Built it herself, hoping it could protect him when she couldn't.

But in her past life, he'd chucked it straight in the trash.

"I ain't using junk like this. What if it misfires? You gonna take the hit for me?"

Yeah. Didn't look like he'd be getting it in this life either.

"No need to pack," Gina said, full of disdain. "I don't want any of that junk. Carlo, just toss it. I want everything new."

Carlo nodded. "Whatever you want."

Then, without flinching, he turned to the house manager. "Gabrio. Have someone clear the room. Move Vera's stuff to the servants' quarters—out back."

Vera let out a dry smile.

"Got it. I'm gone. Won't get in your way. Wishing you and Gina a long, loving life together."

She turned and walked off.

Behind her, Gina's voice dripped syrup. "Carlo, you're the best. Let's go pick out new furniture tonight."

Carlo's tone dropped soft. "Sure. Whatever you want, amore."

Vera shut the door behind her, gathering up whatever was left of her heart.

After that, she kept her distance. Couldn't stomach one more look at their happy little show.

But fate didn't care.

Carlo's message hit while she was buried in her arsenal, fine-tuning specs on a new batch of weapons.

She'd always had the touch. The second she showed interest, Carlo gave her the whole setup to "play with."

Too bad she'd wasted it in her last life, pouring everything into him.

This time, she was leaving. Probably for good.

Still... she wanted to leave something behind.

Just once.

[Pick me up from La Ombra. Bring something for my stomach.]

Vera frowned. She wrote, [You drinking again? Where's Orlando?]

Orlando. The Quaranta underboss. Always stuck to him like a shadow.

No reply.

Her chest tightened.

Carlo's stomach had always been wrecked. Built the family on sleepless nights, bad booze, and worse meals.

Back then, every time it flared up, she'd sit beside him until morning.

Even now—after everything—her body moved before her brain could stop it.

'Maybe this'll be the last time I take care of him.'

She grabbed the med kit and bolted.

No ride. So she ran.

Halfway there, she slipped into a muddy pit. Her knee hit hard—sharp, deep pain slicing through.

She didn't stop.

By the time Vera made it to the club called La Ombra, she was soaked in sweat and looked like hell. An hour gone.

The bodyguards at the door blocked her, mistaking her for some stray. Only when they recognized her—the Quaranta Family's adopted daughter—did they sneer and step aside.

She shoved open the door to the private room—and froze.

No Carlo doubled over in pain.

Just him, feeding Gina grapes. Mouth to mouth.

The med kit slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clatter. All eyes snapped to her.

Carlo's gaze swept over her—mud-streaked, breathless—and twisted in disgust.

"What are you doing here? Looking like that—who are you trying to impress?"

Vera opened her mouth, about to say, 'You messaged me...'

Gina gasped, all fake-shocked. "Oops! Guess that text for my assistant went to Vera by mistake. My bad."

So it was a mistake. Or just another one of Gina's little games.

"No need to apologize," Carlo said, voice soft, full of comfort—for her. "You're the future Donna. Makes sense she'd run a few errands."

Vera's heart iced over.

'Right. I was the fool. With Gina around, why would he ever need me?'

Later, on her way back, her phone buzzed. Gina.

Vera picked up, voice flat. "You don't have to keep testing me. I already said I'd study abroad. I'm going."

Gina finally sounded pleased. "You'd better stick to that. Visa'll be ready in two months."

Then came a voice she wasn't expecting—

Carlo.

"What visa?"