I woke up in the past, on the eve of being traded by my family to that controlling mafia Don.

Last life, his suffocating “love” and rigid rules strangled me to death. This time, watching my father’s eager face, I just smiled.

“The engagement? Give it to your precious illegitimate daughter.”

I walked away. Using the skills he forced me to learn, I secured my escape. On the day of his wedding to my replacement, I boarded a plane far from this gilded hell.

Just before leaving, I pressed a button.

The family mansion—the symbol of my old prison—erupted into a fireball behind me.

Now, I’m thriving under the Mediterranean sun, free and wild. The once-untouchable Don is scouring the globe for me, unraveling.

He found me at an airport, fell to his knees, his eyes desperate, begging me to come back.

I lowered my sunglasses and looked at this stranger, my ex-fiancé, my voice utterly calm.

“Do I know you?”

I stared at my reflection in the ornate mirror. My face was still vivid, alive. I could feel my heart beating in my chest again, a heart that craved freedom. I took a deep breath.

This time, I didn’t want William Salvatore. I didn’t want his suffocating version of love.

I just wanted to be myself. Isabella Caruso, free, bright, and reckless.

The first thing I did was storm downstairs and find my father, Victor Caruso, having breakfast in the formal dining room.

“I’m calling off the engagement to William Salvatore.”

Victor’s spoon clattered against his fine china. He looked up, his face flushing with anger. “What kind of nonsense is this now?! I’ve indulged your whims before, but this? An alliance with the Salvatore Family is something men would kill for! Do you have any idea how exceptional William is? His lineage, his capabilities, his control… he’s one in a million!”

I looked at his face, the face of a man who’d happily bundle me up and deliver me to the Salvatores, and felt a cold laugh bubble inside. “If he’s so perfect, then let your precious illegitimate daughter marry him. I’m giving the arrangement to her.”

Victor’s anger froze, then melted into disbelief and naked delight. “You… you’d really give it to your sister?”

“Yes. You always preferred the mistress and the mistress’s daughter anyway. You’ve spent a fortune polishing Seraphina into a proper society doll. She’ll make a perfect wife for a high-and-mighty Don.”

“You!” His face cycled through shades of pale and red. “Don’t speak of your stepmother that way! That is your sister!”

“The alliance was set. It can’t be undone. If you’re determined to step aside… so be it. I’ll go to the Salvatore compound now to discuss the change.”

He stood up, almost knocking his chair over, grabbed his suit jacket, and rushed out, abandoning his breakfast.

Watching his retreating back—all false concern and barely contained glee—I felt nothing but a deep, weary sense of irony.

I didn’t say another word. I turned, went upstairs, grabbed my passport and purse, and left right after him.

My first stop was the embassy for an expedited visa. Then I called my closest friend, Chloe, and we headed straight to The Crucible, an exclusive underground club in the Diamond District.

The pounding music, the strobe lights, bodies grinding on the dance floor… it all felt like freedom. Real, untamed freedom.

I dragged Chloe into the fray. We danced, we drank expensive vodka straight, and in a moment of pure defiance, I waved over a couple of the club’s most attractive hired companions.

Chloe stared at me, her drink forgotten. “Isabella, your family is about to merge with the Salvatores! William Salvatore is notorious for his control! The rules in that family… my father would have a stroke if he knew we were here, with them! If you want to commit suicide, don’t take me with you!”

I threw back another shot, the burn down my throat a welcome sensation.

I smiled, a lazy, unfocused curve of my lips. “Relax. I gave the engagement to Seraphina.”

“You gave it?” Chloe’s eyes were saucers. “But… you were obsessed with William. After that charity gala where you met him, you said no one else measured up. You said only a man of his… caliber was worthy.”

I traced the rim of my glass. My smile didn’t reach my eyes, which felt clear and cold. “Infatuation and compatibility are different things. We aren’t compatible. And I’m not infatuated anymore.”

“Love is expensive. Freedom is priceless. I’m young, I’m rich, I’m not hard to look at. I’ll find someone who fits. Like…”

My gaze slid to the handsome companion beside me, who offered a shy smile. I reached out, running a fingertip along his jawline. “These ones, for example. They have their uses.”

The words hung in the smoky air.

Then a voice cut through the bass, cold, low, and utterly alien to this place.

“What,” it said, “did you just say?”

My body went rigid. Slowly, I turned.

William Salvatore stood at the edge of our private booth.

He was dressed in a flawlessly tailored black suit, his posture ramrod straight. His austere, controlled presence was a violent contrast to the chaotic sensuality of the club—a stark monolith in a riot of color. The very air around him seemed to still and chill.

Chloe choked on her drink, sobering instantly. She shot me a wide-eyed you’re-on-your-own look, snatched her purse, and vanished into the crowd.

Suddenly, it was just him and me.

And my offending hand, still resting against the companion’s face.

William’s eyes tracked to my hand. His gaze darkened, turning into something lethal.

He stepped forward in one fluid motion, his fingers closing like a steel manacle around my wrist. His icy stare shifted to the young man. “Out.”

That single word, delivered with the quiet weight of absolute authority, sent the companion and his friends scrambling. They disappeared like ghosts.

I yanked my wrist free, rubbing the red marks. “William! What the hell is your problem?”

“That is my question.” His voice was like ice shards. “Explain this.”

“I felt like being here. So I came.” My tone was deliberately careless, a challenge. “It’s none of your business.”

He studied me—my defiant posture, my smudged makeup, the reckless glint in my eyes. His jaw tightened.

Before I could react, he bent, grabbed me around the waist, and hauled me over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“William! Put me down! You bastard!”

I shrieked, pounding my fists against his back, my legs kicking uselessly. He didn’t even flinch. He carried me, ignoring the stunned stares, straight out of The Crucible and dumped me unceremoniously into the back of a waiting black armored Mercedes.

“Drive.”

“Yes, Don Salvatore.”

The car pulled away. I lunged for the door handle.

“Isabella.” His hand shot out, grabbing my arm and dragging me back into the leather seat. “Enough.”

He turned to face me, his expression carved from stone. “You are to be my wife. You were given the Family protocols. One states that a Salvatore woman is to remain at the compound after nightfall. Another expressly forbids unapproved venues like this. Were you not paying attention?”

“From now on, you do not set foot in such places. For tonight’s disobedience, you will submit a ten-thousand-word account of your actions and their consequences. A lesson in accountability.”

An account? Protocols?

I almost laughed, a hot, bitter surge rising in my chest. In my past life, those damn protocols had strangled me. I’d lived like a puppet.

Never again.

“I’m not writing your stupid account!” I shouted, the words tearing from my throat. “Your rules mean nothing to me! I’m not marrying you!”

Silence.

Thick, heavy, suffocating silence filled the car.

William turned his head slowly. His deep-set eyes locked onto me, churning with disbelief and something else, something complicated and dark.

He stared for a long, tense moment. “…Explain.”

Looking at him, my initial urge to blurt out the truth cooled. He hated this version of me—the wild, inconvenient fiancée. If I told him now that he was getting the perfect, obedient Seraphina instead, it would be letting him off too easy.

After the lifetime of repression I remembered, he deserved to suffer a little.

I took a breath, forced the storm of emotions down, and looked out the tinted window. “…Nothing. I’m just angry.”

William watched me for another few seconds. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction, but his voice held no compromise. “Sit properly.”

I looked at him, sitting with military precision, not a hair out of place. The symbol of everything that had crushed me. A fresh wave of resentment hit.

I wouldn’t.

I deliberately slumped against the seat, kicked off my heels, and pressed my bare feet into the plush carpet. I hit the window control, letting the night air rush in and tangle my hair.

I would be messy. I would be real.

This was me.

William watched my deliberate rebellion, his brow furrowing. But he said nothing.

The car stopped at the Caruso family gates.

I pushed the door open.

“Isabella.” His voice stopped me. Cold. Final. “The account. On my desk tomorrow.”

The car pulled away before I could reply.

I watched the taillights disappear into the night, and kicked a loose piece of cobblestone so hard it clattered into the darkness.

I walked into the mansion. In the grand living room, my father Victor, his mistress-turned-wife Giselle, and my half-sister Seraphina were waiting, a perfect little tribunal.

Victor took in my disheveled state, the smell of smoke and alcohol. His face darkened. “Where have you been? Look at you! This is how a Caruso behaves?”

I walked toward the staircase. “I’m not marrying into the Salvatores. Where I go and what I do is my business now.”

Seraphina rose gracefully. She approached me, a faint, hopeful smile on her lips. “Isabella… Father said you’ve decided to… relinquish the engagement to me. Is it true?”

Her hypocrisy made my skin crawl. “Yes. It’s yours. You always did like taking cast-offs.”

“Isabella, watch your mouth!” Victor roared. “A match with William Salvatore is a gift from God! I’ve already spoken to the Salvatore Family. They find Seraphina far more suitable! Don’t come crying to me later with regrets!”

I let out a short, sharp laugh. “I don’t have regrets.”

From the sofa, Giselle sighed theatrically. “Isabella, dear, I only say this because I care. You’re so… untamed. Without the Salvatore alliance, what respectable Family will consider you?”

My eyes snapped to her. They were cold. “You are not my mother. You are the woman who slept with my father while his wife was dying. Worry about your own daughter. Stolen things have a way of slipping through your fingers.”

Giselle’s face blotched with fury. Victor sputtered.

I was already walking up the stairs to my room.

The next morning, William arrived before I was fully awake.

He stood in the foyer, impeccable and severe. His first words were, “The account.”

I leaned against my doorframe, my silk robe slipping off one shoulder. I yawned. “Didn’t write it. Not going to.”

His expression hardened. “Isabella. When will you learn to obey?”

“I was born this way.” I met his gaze head-on, all defiance. “Obey? Not in this lifetime. I don’t like being leashed.”

“You—”

The tense standoff was broken by Seraphina’s timely arrival.

She wore a modest, pale blue dress, every movement measured. She offered William a gentle smile.

“William, please don’t be angry with Isabella.” Her voice was soft as silk. She held out several neatly written pages. “She was just upset last night. I took the liberty of drafting the account for her. Will this suffice?”

William took the papers. He scanned them, then looked back at me. The disappointment in his eyes was a physical weight.

“Look at your sister. Look at you. Raised in the same house. Can you not learn even a fraction of her discipline?”

“Consider last night addressed. Go change. You’re accompanying me to a business gathering.”

I didn’t hesitate. “No. Take Seraphina. She’s more your style.”

His brow furrowed. “Isabella! You are my intended.”

The words were a needle, jabbing straight into an old wound.

See? He was marrying me because a deal was a deal. The Salvatore name couldn’t bear the stain of reneging.

It had nothing to do with choice. With desire.

Given the choice, he’d pick Seraphina in a heartbeat.

This time, I’d give him what he wanted.

Seraphina smoothly interjected. “William, Isabella might find such formal events overwhelming. Perhaps… I could accompany her? I could help guide her, if needed.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She took my arm, her grip deceptively strong, and steered me upstairs. “Come, Isabella. Let’s find you something appropriate.”

The moment my bedroom door closed, I shook off her hand. “The audience is gone. Drop the act.”

The gentle mask slipped, but her tone remained even. “You misunderstand. I want us to be close.”

“Close? That will never happen. Unless you’re dead. No, even then, I’d dance on your grave. You and your whore mother both.”

Seraphina’s composure cracked. A flash of real anger showed. “Isabella! You push too far! You think I enjoy this? Once William knows I’m the bride, he’ll be relieved! A wild thing like you could never be what he needs!”

“Oh?” I took a step closer, my voice a mocking whisper. “Then why didn’t you tell him just now? Afraid he’d call the whole thing off if he knew it was you?”