The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family.

The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort.

In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown.

“Not her.”

In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident.

“Still not her.”

In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death.

By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect.

Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness.

After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

“Ladies of the Monroe family, Don Costello has requested that I deliver this to you.”

The Consigliere’s voice echoed through the living room as he gently placed a velvet box on the coffee table. I stared at the familiar box, my palms instantly slick with sweat.

He lifted the lid, revealing a diamond signet ring lying quietly on the black velvet. Engraved on its face was the Costello family crest—an eagle clutching a dagger in its talons. Under the afternoon sunlight, the diamond refracted a sharp, blinding glare.

“The Godfather says the woman he loves is among the four of you.” The Consigliere swept his gaze across us. “Whoever can wear this ring will be the future lady of the Costello family.”

Memories from my previous lives came crashing back like a tidal wave. All four of us froze. Each of us had married him once. So who was the woman the Godfather truly wanted?

What was worse was that every single one of us had met a brutal end after marrying into his family, from the icy river to the out-of-control car, the suffocating darkness of the basement, and the hunting knife gleaming under the moonlight. The thought alone made every one of us inhale sharply.

“There must be some mistake,” my stepmother, Catherine, said as she stood up, the fake smile on her face barely holding. “I don’t think anyone in our family is the Godfather’s beloved.”

The Consigliere frowned at our strange reactions and replied firmly, “There’s no mistake. Do you remember the charity gala at the Ritz-Carlton? After that event, the Godfather said his beloved was one of the Monroe women.”

He picked up the ring and held it out to us with meticulous precision.

“This signet ring will definitely fit one of you. Just try it on, and we’ll know.”

“My fingers are too thick,” Blair said immediately. The fake heiress—who wanted to marry into power more than anyone—shook her head rapidly and hid her hands behind her back.

My cousin, Chloe, who had secretly adored Dante for years, panicked and fled the room, insisting she didn’t even know the Godfather and couldn’t possibly be the one.

The secretary’s gaze shifted to Catherine. She waved her hands frantically. “I’ve been married twice, and I’m a widow now. I can’t be the one the Godfather loves.”

In the end, I was the only one who hadn’t spoken, so everyone turned to look at me.

The Consigliere’s eyes lit up with hope. “Miss Isabella, the Godfather has mentioned you before. That means you must be the one he loves.”

He smiled ingratiatingly. “This ring was surely made to fit your finger.”

Cold sweat soaked through my back.

In my last life, I had believed the same thing—that I was the woman Dante loved. After all, we had maintained a secret relationship. The ring had fit my ring finger perfectly, as though it had been crafted just for me. I thought it was destiny and that romance was written in fate.

After my father died, the Monroe family fell into rapid decline. The four of us tore each other apart over what little inheritance remained. In that life, I thought I had finally won. I believed I had defeated them all and married the most powerful mafia godfather alive. Yet, on our wedding night, Dante stormed into the room, his eyes blazing with madness.

“You’re not her!” he roared. “How dare you wear the ring and marry me!”

The hunting knife pierced my chest again and again until blood soaked through my white wedding dress. I died in unbearable pain, drowning in confusion and despair. If his beloved wasn’t me, then who was she?

And yet all four of us had died because we weren’t “her”.

“Miss Isabella?” The Consigliere’s voice pulled me back to the present.

I forced a stiff smile, but I didn’t dare take the ring.

Seeing the tension, the Consigliere tried to ease the atmosphere. “Marrying our Godfather grants supreme wealth and power. Of course, it’s not an easy role. You may take some time to consider.”

Then, his tone sharpened with the unmistakable pressure of the mafia.

“However, the Godfather is not a patient man.”

He stood up and said without looking back, “Don Costello will come personally tomorrow night. You have one night to decide who will wear this ring. The ring will stay here.”

With that, the door shut with a sharp click. I remained frozen, unable to recover fully from my daze.

In the silent living room, the four of us Monroe women stared at the signet ring on the coffee table, and no one dared to speak first.

The sound of a car engine roared outside.

“He left?” Chloe was the first to rush to the window, peeking through a narrow gap in the curtains as she watched the Consigliere’s car drive away.

“He’s gone for now,” Blair collapsed onto the sofa. “But he’ll be back tomorrow night.”

Catherine locked the living room door and pulled every curtain shut. When she turned back to face us, her expression was more serious than I had ever seen.

“We need to talk.”

The four of us, who normally fought like sworn enemies, sat together for once, united by lingering fear.

“Talk about what?” I stared at the ring on the table. “Talk about which one of us is going to her death?”

“You remember, too?” Blair snapped her head up. “You’re sure you were killed on the wedding night as well?”

I sighed. “Didn’t you see it yourself? I was stabbed and sent back covered in blood.”

“That was horrible,” Chloe muttered, surprisingly sympathetic for once. “You were soaked in blood. I couldn’t even look.”

“Four times,” Catherine said grimly. “Each of us died on our wedding night. So who exactly is the Godfather looking for?”

I picked up the ring and had everyone try it on again. Just like before, I was the only one it fit. Yet, in my last life, I’d worn it too and still died.

A tense silence befell us. One by one, we let out helpless sighs.

Blair’s voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes. “If we can’t figure it out by tomorrow… the Godfather won’t kill all of us again, will he?”

The atmosphere grew heavier by the second. After all, the most powerful Godfather alive had killed more people than anyone could count.

“Maybe he’s wrong,” I finally said. “Maybe his true love isn’t any of us.”

“What do you mean?” Catherine asked suspiciously.

“That actually makes sense,” Blair said, standing up. “Do we have any other clues?”

“The Consigliere said he confirmed his true love at that Ritz-Carlton charity gala,” I said. “If we check the surveillance footage, maybe he was looking at someone else.”

We all vaguely remembered that night. The Godfather, Dante Costello, had indeed paused briefly at our table.

To save our lives, we moved fast. Using the last of her remaining connections and a bit of flirtation, Catherine managed to get the security chief to hand over the footage.

Two hours later, the four of us crowded into the study, staring at the laptop screen. In the video, Dante appeared in a black suit as he walked through the banquet hall. His steps were steady, his expression cold. He looked refined and untouchable, carrying none of the blood-soaked brutality people associated with the mafia.

“This is it,” I said, pointing at the screen. “He’s about to pass our table.”

Dante approached. His gaze swept over our table and seemed to linger on someone. Then, the corner of his lips lifted, just slightly. The smile was subtle, but unmistakable. It was gentle and affectionate, different from his usual icy demeanor. Then, he moved on and disappeared from the frame.

Because our family had fallen from grace, we had been seated at a table tucked into the corner. No one else had wanted to sit with us. It meant that from the moment Dante entered the hall to the moment he left, the only people he looked at were the four of us.

I said blankly, “It really does look like one of us is the Godfather’s true love.”

“There’s no way to tell who he was looking at,” Blair said with a sigh. “But that smile was way too obvious.”

The four of us exchanged silent looks, fear filling our eyes. If we didn’t all retain memories of our brutal deaths from past lives, none of this would even be explainable.

“If it really is one of us,” Chloe whispered, trembling, tears pooling in her eyes, “then why… why did he kill every single one of us?”

My mind raced, searching for a way out of this nightmare. Then, suddenly, an idea cut through the fog.

“I need to go to the Godfather’s estate,” I said, breaking the deadlock. “I need to see him in person.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the living room fell into complete silence.

“Are you insane?” Blair was the first to leap up. “Do you really want to go and get yourself killed?”

All of them looked at me with a mix of confusion and pity.

“I need to confirm something. Wait for my news,” I said, ignoring their admiring expressions as I stood up and left immediately.

So far, I was the most puzzled of everyone. After all, I was still Dante’s secret lover. Not long ago, we had been inseparable. He had once told me that I was the love of his life, and the ring had fit my finger perfectly.

Night had fallen over the city. I arrived at the luxury penthouse where Dante and I secretly met, looking up at the top floor, its windows glowing warmly. No one knew about this place except his most trusted security.

When the elevator doors opened, I used my fingerprint to unlock the apartment door. Dante was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me, the moonlight highlighting the broad contours of his shoulders.

Hearing my footsteps, he turned around, briefly frozen mid-motion. However, he quickly regained his composure, and his gaze softened.

“You’re here.” His voice was low. “I knew you would come.”

I looked at his tender face, still unable to believe that in my previous life, he had stabbed me to death on our wedding night. I forced myself to stay calm and gently closed the door behind me.

“Your Consigliere said you wanted to marry me. Is that true?” I asked as I stepped closer.

There was a flicker of unease on his face, but he answered seriously, “Of course. I’ve waited for this day for a long time. You’ve been with me long enough to know my heart.”

Dante approached, his movements graceful. His long fingers brushed my cheek, warm and familiar.

“I went to the Monroe family just to marry the woman I love,” he said.

I caught the subtlety in his words. He hadn’t explicitly said who his heart belonged to.

I clenched my hands, forcing a playful tone as I smiled and asked, “Who is your true love? Your Consigliere said it’s a lady from the Monroe family.”

Dante stared into my eyes in silence before answering calmly, without hurry, “Why would you ask that? You should know perfectly well yourself. Of course it’s you, Isabella. That’s why I had the ring custom-made. Marry me, and you’ll have the best life possible.”

He didn’t hedge or avoid the question. His eyes were fixed on mine, full of certainty.

“Why now?” I asked, lifting my head to meet his gaze, keeping my voice steady.

“The time is right,” he said, his hand sliding from my cheek to my neck. “I’ve cleared away all obstacles.”

Since I had become his secret lover, he had always treated me well. As the true heiress, reclaimed by the family as an adult, I hadn’t been familiar with high society etiquette, often suppressed by Catherine and ridiculed or bullied in public. He didn’t just remove my enemies; he secretly backed me up, giving me wealth and power I had never dared to imagine.

Despite being the most powerful Godfather, he had never acted distant in our relationship. He cooked for me, washed my clothes, and treated me with care. When he spoke of marrying his true love, I believed it was me. Yet, in the previous life, after happily marrying him, he had changed.

“You’re not her! How dare you wear that ring? You’re just a lowly mistress, unworthy of me! Die!”

Then, the knife plunged into my chest again and again.

Now, his fingers were sliding down to my right wrist, gently caressing it. I froze, my heart skipping a beat. It was this gesture that made me realize a reasonable truth. Could it be… He was touching my right wrist.

I tried to pull back, staring at him in disbelief. “Your true love is–”

He suddenly gripped my wrist tightly, the strength shocking me. A cold glint flickered in his eyes. “Darling, you’re asking far too many questions tonight.”

Then, he quickly regained his calm, his expression composed.

“The wedding is tomorrow. Go back and prepare, my dear,” he said.

A wave of lingering fear ran through me, sweat breaking out along my back. I quickly nodded and left.