To protect my husband, Marco, I took a bullet for him during a shootout.

I was rushed to the Family's private clinic, but he forbade anyone from saving me.

In my past life, he failed to save his beloved Isabella because he had saved me first.

Isabella died, and he was consumed by regret, roaring, "If it weren't for you, she would never have died!"

On my birthday, during a celebration that ended in bloodshed, he shot me with a bullet engraved with our daughter's name.

He claimed that marrying me was the biggest mistake of his life.

As I lay in a pool of my own blood, desperately trying to shield our daughter, he plunged a dagger into my heart.

The last thing I saw before I died was him kissing a photograph of Isabella, having abandoned our daughter and me completely.

He had once again chosen his dead lover over his living family.

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1

Chaos reigned in the Family clinic.

My husband, Marco Moretti, burst into the examination room, carrying Isabella Rossi in his arms.

He glared at me, his eyes filled with a raw, unforgiving hatred.

Searing pain flared from the gunshot wound in my abdomen, and a wave of fear made me tremble.

I had been reborn on the day I was shot, and my husband had returned from the past as well.

Before he died, he had confessed, "With Isabella gone, I don't want to live anymore!"

Then he had ended his own life.

Now, he had chosen to save Isabella immediately, abandoning me once again.

I wanted to leave, but my body refused to move.

The doctor on duty just watched me coldly.

Unable to accept this, I pleaded again, "Save me! I've been shot! It's critical!"

Marco's Underboss, Leo Gallo, suddenly sneered, "Who do you think you're fooling? Everyone knows you're jealous of Isabella. There's a line, Principessa. This is a place for saving lives, not for your drama."

The other men in the room watched me with contempt. I knew I couldn't persuade them. Marco had already ordered everyone not to waste a single medical resource on me.

I clenched my fists, determined to find help in another room. Only moments ago, I had taken a bullet for Marco to protect him.

My wound burned as if seared by a branding iron.

The situation was identical to my past life: excessive blood loss, which could be fatal at any moment.

If I had known how heartless Marco was, I never would have done something so foolish.

But who can predict the future?

Even reborn, I was still dealt a terrible hand.

Fortunately, my daughter was still alive. I still had a chance to live.

I braced myself against the wall, dragging my body toward the next room. "Doctor, I've been shot. The wound won't stop bleeding. Can you..."

The doctor gave me a cold glance and pointed to the door. "Get out! If it were that serious, someone would have dealt with it. You don't need to be here!"

I wanted to argue, but I was too weak to make a sound.

The pain was unbearable.

I could barely think straight. It seemed Marco hadn't just warned this one room; he had briefed the entire clinic.

Marco, how could you be so cruel?

Crying for help was useless here; this was the Family's private clinic. To survive, I had to find another way.

As I stumbled out the back door, the guards' hushed gossip followed me.

"Can't keep up the act? Giving up now?"

"Ha! She's crazy. Who's going to pay her any mind?"

"I can't stand jealous women. All they do is cause trouble for the Family."

The comments grew more vicious. Who had spread these rumors?

I didn't have the strength to find out. My only goal was to survive.

At three in the morning, the back of the clinic was deserted, the silence profound. I couldn't find a single person I could trust.

I had no choice but to use my burner phone to secretly call my grandfather.

"Don Vincenzo, I'm injured. The doctors at the Family clinic refuse to treat me. They say I'm overreacting! If anything happens to me, I'll make sure the entire Moretti family goes down with me!"

I had always had my grandfather Don Vincenzo's private number.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by my grandfather's commanding, urgent voice.

"Alessia? You're hurt? Who would dare neglect you? Stay right there. I'm coming with my men myself!"

After hanging up, I forced myself toward the lounge area.

There was a sofa there. If I could just sit down, maybe I could hold on until my grandfather's men arrived.

The sofa was only a hundred meters away, but it felt like I had been crawling for an eternity.

Just as my fingers brushed the edge of the sofa, I was violently shoved away.

I collapsed, the agony from my gunshot wound tearing through me as if my insides were being shredded. I curled into a ball on the floor, a cold sweat soaking through my clothes.

A familiar voice cried out with feigned surprise. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Alessia, I didn't see you!"

That voice. I would never forget it, not in two lifetimes.

It was Marco's beloved, Isabella.

I looked up at her through eyes blurred with tears and sweat.

She was leaning on someone's arm, her eyes glinting with triumph as she shot me a provocative look.

And the person supporting her was none other than Marco.

My nemesis. We meet again.

An overwhelming wave of hatred churned inside me.

I would never forget him shooting me with the bullet engraved with our daughter's name. I would never forget his endless insults. "Useless woman! You should have died long ago..."

The mental torment and physical abuse had been unbearable, an agony a thousand times more intense than this gunshot wound. My heart had been shredded by his dagger.

In his crazed fury, he hadn't even spared our three-year-old daughter.

Before I drew my last breath, he had killed our daughter, Sofia Moretti, right in front of me.

Sofia was only three. So small.

She had begged him, "Papa, please don't kill me!"

Marco had shown no mercy, cursing as he did it. "You little bastard! If it weren't for you, I never would have married your mother! Isabella wouldn't have died!"

The memory, the raw hatred, ripped a scream from my throat. "You traitor!"

Marco slapped me hard across the face. "You psycho! What the hell are you screaming about?" "You've made a fool of yourself faking it in the clinic. Now you're playing crazy? Fine, I'll send you where you belong!"

With that, he started to drag me like a sack of garbage, intending to throw me out.

Pain ripped another desperate scream from me.

"Help! Someone, help me! The Underboss—he's trying to kill me! He's a traitor! He's murdering the Don's granddaughter for an outsider! If I die, you all saw it! You'll answer to Don Vincenzo!"

I was deliberately making a scene.

The clinic was full of Family members, and I was sure some of them still feared the Don's authority.

Marco might have paid off the doctors and guards, but the other men here were neutral.

I couldn't accuse Marco of crimes from a past life; no one would believe me.

But his abuse of me now, after I'd taken a bullet for the Family, was tantamount to murder and betrayal.

Sure enough, my desperate accusations made people stare, their expressions conflicted. Some had already quietly taken out their phones.

Seeing I had gotten through to them, I pleaded, "I'm begging you, find Don Vincenzo. I've been shot. I'm dying!"

Just as the tension was about to snap, Marco suddenly helped me up.

He calmly explained to the crowd, "I'm sorry, my wife is a bit disturbed. I'll take her to rest now."

Then he dragged me into an empty hallway and squeezed my throat. "You bitch! Are you trying to ruin me?"

Wincing, I forced my gaze upward to the hidden camera on the ceiling. A weak, mocking smile touched my lips.

"Marco, you know I'm critical. If I die here, you won't escape it. The security camera recorded you assaulting me. Are you ready to face the Family's judgment? Are you willing to lose your precious Isabella for this? Even if I die, I'll just be reborn. But that little black book of yours won't be so lucky."

His eyes widened. "How do you know about the ledger? Tell me! How?"

I sneered inwardly.

Even if I knew the secret to rebirth, I would never tell him.

If Marco knew, he would find a way to stop me from coming back again.

I needed a distraction. "I know all your secrets. Yours and Isabella's."

Marco's grip loosened in panic. "Tell me! What else do you know?"

I played my bluff. "I know you were both reborn."

For a moment, confusion flashed across Marco's face. Then he recovered, retorting sharply, "So what? So were you."

He'd admitted it. Now came the threats. "If you dare leak this and ruin everything, I'll make your next death even more painful than the last."

I fought through the pain, refusing to show weakness. "That depends on you. Like I said, if I die, I can always start over."

Marco's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

He tightened his grip on my throat. "You think I'll let you control me? Let's see if you come back after I kill you again."

"Then try it," I rasped, closing my eyes and taking the gamble.

I was betting he wouldn't dare kill me here. Not with the Don's men on their way.

Killing the Don's granddaughter on Family territory was suicide. He'd never get away with it.

"Marco, what are you doing with her?"

A jealous voice cut through the tension.

Marco quickly let me go and turned anxiously to Isabella, who was approaching from behind. "Isabella, I was just teaching her a lesson. She made me so angry."

Of course, he wouldn't admit he wanted to kill me in front of her.

If Isabella found out he was a psychopathic murderer, who knew what she would think?

"Teaching her a lesson? How? With your lips? In your arms?" Isabella's voice was sharp with jealousy, as if she were the wronged wife and I the mistress.

The irony was disgusting.

Until today, I had thought Marco loved me. It was why I had risked everything for him.

After today, he was nothing but trash in my eyes.

So, I no longer cared about fighting for Marco or making him jealous. I just wanted to light a match and watch it all burn.

"He's my husband. We can do whatever we want. But you? You're just a cheap dancer, a mistress who doesn't know her place!"

Isabella flushed. "I'm sorry, I thought you were already divorced. I didn't realize you were still married. I just got back, so I'm not up to date."

Marco's man, Leo Gallo, walked over, giving me a cold look. "Lady Alessia, as the wife of the Underboss, you should carry yourself with some grace. Isabella was just concerned."

These two, Marco's confidants, both saw me as a thorn in their side.

Still not satisfied, Marco slapped me. "Why are you acting so smug? I've never had feelings for you! If it wasn't for your grandfather, Don Vincenzo, you think I would've married you? We'll file the papers tomorrow. Then you can get the hell out of the Falcone family! Stop trying to drive a wedge between me and Isabella!"

After his tirade, he turned to Leo. "Leo, I'll take care of Isabella. You give that despicable woman a perfunctory check-up. The Don gave orders that we can't refuse treatment."

At the mention of the Don, I ignored the sting in my cheek and cried out, "Where is Don Vincenzo? Why isn't he here yet?"

Only my grandfather could save me.

Marco shot me a vicious glare. "The Don is busy. He's in a negotiation with a rival family."

Overcome with despair, I cried out in disbelief, "Impossible! He promised he'd come! This is life or death! Don Vincenzo would never go back on his word! This is your fault!"

Before I could finish, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. Warm blood gushed from the wound, staining my white dress. Am I going to die again?