Bella’s POV

“I’m sorry for overstepping, Don,” Lorenzo said quietly, lowering his head.

Before Matteo could respond, his phone rang.

I saw the name on the screen.

Victoria.

My fingers curled into a fist. I never got the chance to confront her about what really happened—but after what the Moretti told me, I knew she was nothing like the sweet, considerate girl my brother believed her to be.

“V, hey,” Matteo said, smiling. “Your birthday’s coming up. I’ve taken care of everything. You just have to show up and be the prettiest birthday girl.”

He paused, his voice softening.

“Don’t worry about the Moretti. I’ll make Bella admit it was her fault. Not yours.”

The words burned.

Ever since our parents died, Matteo had treated me like a spoiled, useless brat—as if every disaster in our lives could be traced back to me.

So when I doubted myself about the contract, he shut me down. And because of the guilt, I turned that blame inward too.

If only I’d stood my ground. If only I hadn’t gone to the Moretti to make things right.

I would still be alive. I would still have the chance to stand in front of Matteo and tell him the truth.

Instead, I could only listen as Victoria spoke in that soft, false sweetness and brother believed her every word.

“Actually,” she said gently, “I’d like to go somewhere different for my birthday this year. Maybe you could take me there tomorrow?”

A chill ran through me.

What if my death hadn’t given the Moretti family and Victoria what they wanted? What if, now, they were coming after my brother instead?

Matteo was the Don of DeLuca. He never went anywhere without protection. Never alone. But if Victoria used her birthday as bait—if she asked him like this—he wouldn’t refuse.

And they’d be alone.

I tried to strike Matteo’s shoulder. Tried to scream.

It was useless.

All I could do was watch as my brother smiled into the phone and said,

“Anything you want.”

…

I realized I could only go where my body went.

So when Lorenzo wheeled my body into the casino’s basement, I followed, watching the forensic specialist he’d hired examine what was left of me.

Even I was shocked by how my body looked.

Bruises layered over cuts. Broken skin everywhere.

So this was how much I’d endured before dying.

“What’s the status?” Matteo asked as he walked in.

He didn’t spare my body a second glance.

“We’re waiting on the DNA results,” Lorenzo replied.

Matteo stepped closer.

My chest tightened.

One more step and he would see the birthmark on my left arm. One more step and my brother would realize the dead woman on the table was his sister.

A ringtone cut through the room.

“Alissa?” Matteo answered.

Alissa—my friend.

“Have you heard from Bella?” she asked anxiously. “We were supposed to go out of town today, but I can’t reach her.”

Matteo frowned. “She’s handling business. You know how it is. She’ll call you back.”

“But I’m worried,” Alissa said, her voice trembling. “Your line of work is dangerous. Please—can you just call her and make sure she’s safe?”

Even my friend cared more than my own brother.

For the first time, the feeling in my chest wasn’t just guilt.

There were also sadness.

When had Matteo and I become this distant? He used to be the person closest to me—the one I shared secrets with, the ones I never even told our parents. Once, he’d panic if I so much as tripped and scraped my knee.

Now I’d vanished after going to meet another gang, and it barely seemed to register.

Matteo stared ahead, expression unreadable. After a moment, he said, “Alright. I’ll call her.”

He hung up and pulled up my number.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“You’re not calling Bella?” Lorenzo asked.

“After we’re done here,” Matteo said, turning back to the body on the table. “I can’t risk the cops getting suspicious again. And Bella… this isn’t the first time she’s gone quiet. She probably screwed something up and doesn’t want me to know.”

Matteo left the basement soon after without ever coming close enough to see my birthmark.

I watched my brother’s silhouette disappear and wondered— What will you feel when you find out this body is mine?

Relief that I’m finally gone? Or sadness—if only for a moment—that you’ve lost the last family you had left?

…

As the days passed, I felt myself growing less attached to my body. I started drifting through the casino instead—sometimes lingering in my brother’s office, watching him work. Other times, I just wandered.

That afternoon, I was hovering in his office when Victoria arrived.

She looked cheerful. Too cheerful.

“Matteo, do you have time for dinner tonight?” she asked lightly.

He smiled—the first real smile I’d seen from him in days. “Of course. You know I always have time for you.”

She tilted her head. “Things feel tense around the casino. Did something happen?”

As if she didn’t already know.

I knew exactly why she was asking. She wanted to know whether he’d found out about me.

Matteo’s smile faded. “Someone dumped a body here. I think it was a message.”

Victoria’s eyes widened, her expression carefully innocent. “Do you think it’s because Bella messed up the deal with the Moretti? Maybe they’re taking revenge.”

Matteo’s face hardened. “Always spoiled. Always careless. If it weren’t for her mistake, those thugs wouldn’t even be looking at us.”

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and began typing.

I drifted closer.

It was my chat window.

Stop ghosting me. Fix what you screwed up with the Moretti and get back here. Something happened. I need to know if it’s connected to you. For once, Bella, don’t bring more trouble to this family. Don’t repeat what you did to our parents.

The words hollowed me out.

Desperation mixed with something colder.

I was dead. How could I bring him more trouble?

Matteo finished the message and looked back at Victoria, his tone softening. “If only she were as considerate as you, V.”

That was when something inside me broke.

The emptiness in my chest spread wider, deeper.

When would Matteo learn the truth? When would he stop blaming me for everything?

Bella’s POV

Victoria slipped her arm through his. “Bella is different from us. She never had to grow up—because she always had you to fall back on. She knew you’d be there whenever she messed up.”

Matteo rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. I did spoil her.”

He sighed. “I thought she would’ve grown up after our parents died.”

Victoria didn’t miss a beat. “Actually… I’ve been meaning to tell you. The other day, when she said she’d go fix the mess she made with the Moretti contract—I saw her got on a train that was leaving town.”

She let it hang in the air. “Maybe… she lied to us again?”

Matteo’s expression darkened. “You mean she never went to the Moretti?”

Victoria gave him that wide-eyed, innocent look. “I suspected it. But I didn’t want to be the kind of person who talks behind someone’s back.”

Liar.

Matteo looked furious now, and Victoria pushed in deeper.

“I found this on her desk,” she added, slipping something from her purse. “She left it behind.”

It was a necklace.

Our family’s token. Every one of us had one.

Victoria must’ve taken it off my body before the Moretti dumped me like trash at the back of the casino.

“I’m just… worried about her,” she said softly, like it pained her.

And Matteo—my brother—tightened his fist around that necklace like it had betrayed him too.

“Don’t be,” he said coldly. “If she’s capable of walking away from her family, maybe it’s time we stop calling her one of us.”

Then he pulled out his phone and called the Moretti.

“Sorry about my sister. No—Bella’s mistake,” he said. “I thought she’d handled it with you. Turns out, she may have skipped town and left me with the fallout. Again.”

And then I heard him.

The Moretti Don.

The man who killed me.

His voice came through the phone, slow and polished, sending a chill down my spine. “Don’t worry, Mr. DeLuca. Perhaps we can reschedule the conversation for another day.”

“Thank you for your understanding,” Matteo replied.

I stood frozen.

Furious.

My whole body trembled with rage I couldn’t unleash.

They’d killed me—and that still wasn’t enough.

Now they were rewriting the story, painting me as the coward, the traitor.

What else did they have planned?

I turned to Matteo, my chest aching.

Brother… for once, couldn’t you just believe in me?

Why would I run?

You knew me better than anyone. You knew I was stubborn. You knew I never backed down from a fight.

If I made a mistake—I’d own it. I wouldn’t run.

I’d never run.

…

Over the past few days, I could see it—Matteo was growing more anxious.

I wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t heard from me… or because of the body in the basement.

This afternoon, just as he tried calling me for what must’ve been the hundredth time, someone finally answered.

“Where the hell have you been, Bella?” he barked into the phone. “I can’t believe you’d go this far—abandoning your family and skipping town? If our parents were alive, imagine how disappointed they’d be—”

“Don?” a voice interrupted.

Lorenzo.

Matteo froze. “Why do you have Bella’s phone?”

There was a pause. “I… found it,” Lorenzo said. “In our casino’s backdoor.”

I watched the color drain from Matteo’s face.

He bolted.

Stormed down to the casino’s basement like the floor was on fire.

“Where’s the body?” he barked.

Lorenzo looked just as stunned. “I already handed her over to the forensic team. She’s at the lab.”

“And the phone?” Matteo snapped.

Lorenzo handed it over with a shaking hand.

Matteo unlocked it in seconds.

Our wallpaper flashed on the screen—him and me, grinning like the world hadn’t touched us yet.

He staggered back like he’d been punched.

“I’m not jumping to conclusions,” Lorenzo said quickly. “Maybe Bella dropped her phone earlier before that dead body got dropped…”

But Matteo didn’t wait to hear the rest.

He was already on his feet, storming out the door.

Did Matteo finally start to suspect the truth?

He checked the location history on my phone.

It confirmed his worst fear—I’d gone to the Moretti compound. And after that, every signal traced back to the casino.

Within minutes, Matteo had gathered a team of armed men. I followed him, helpless but unwilling to leave.

He was trying to stay calm as he issued orders.

“If they resist, fire without hesitation,” he said flatly. “If the Moretti want war—then war it is.”

“Yes, Don.”

I hovered close, torn between rage and dread. Part of me couldn’t bear to return to that place—to the hell where I was tortured and killed.

But I couldn’t let Matteo go alone.

Bella’s POV

The moment I followed my brother into that warehouse, my entire body trembled.

This was where I’d been tortured. Where I’d died.

Matteo walked in slowly, eyes scanning the space. The Moretti were nowhere in sight. Maybe Victoria had warned them—given them just enough time to run before Matteo arrived.

It didn’t take long for Matteo to find the room.

The room where they’d kept me.

Blood was everywhere—splattered across the floor and walls. The chair I’d been tied to was stained with things I didn’t want to name. The smell alone made Lorenzo gag.

Even Matteo recoiled.

I stood there, frozen, staring at that chair.

And the memories came rushing back.

I’d arrived at the address the Moretti gave me, expecting a tense negotiation. A confrontation over the contract, maybe.

Instead—I blacked out.

When I woke, I was already here.

Back then, I still believed the Moretti were simply mad at me for that contract. About business.

But it was never about the contract.

They were mad at the DeLucas.

Turns out, the Moretti were the same family our parents had been meeting when they were killed.

“If it wasn’t for your stupid father, the FBI wouldn’t have started sniffing around our family,” a man growled, the one with deep scars on his face. He spat at me. “Do you even understand how long we’ve been running?”

Gang wars weren’t new. Crossfire happened. It was the cost of the life we lived.

But federal attention? That was the death sentence no one wanted.

Because of the chaos that day, the FBI targeted the Moretti—relentlessly. Years of investigations, trials, attempted takedowns.

“All because of your father,” he hissed. “He brought hell to our door.”

“My father died,” I shot back. “It was one of your men who pulled the trigger first. How is any of this his fault?”

The man looked at me, his face unreadable.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he said. “Your father’s right-hand man—Victoria’s father—had already agreed to the deal before the meeting. If your father hadn’t changed his mind last minute, none of it would’ve happened.”

He stepped closer.

“So yeah. I blame your father. For the blood, the fallout, and everything that happened to my family.” He yanked my hair, forcing me to meet his eyes. “And you don’t get to walk away clean. I know you whispered something to your dad before that meeting. So yeah—you get some of the blame too.”

I overheard Marco—Victoria’s father—whispering to the Moretti Don before the meeting.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. Just mentioned it to my father in passing.

Then everything unraveled—shouting, drawn guns, shots fired.

And then...My parents were dead. So was Victoria’s father.

“It wasn’t like that…” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the chair. “I just mentioned something I overheard. I didn’t mean—”

The man with the scarred face strode over and struck me hard across the face.

“I know exactly what you told your father,” he snapped. “You said his right-hand man betrayed him. That our contract was a setup. If you hadn’t planted that idea in his head, the deal would’ve been signed.”

He leaned in close.

“And you’re still telling me you don’t bear responsibility for what happened?”

After that, everything blurred.

Not because I forgot—but because some part of me refused to remember all of it at once.

They questioned me about the DeLuca business secrets, who we worked with, where did we get our products from. Of course, I remained silent the entire time.

Soon, the Moretti lost all their patience. They shattered my ankle and wrist with a baseball bat. Then they hit my stomach until I couldn’t breathe.

Through the haze, I remembered hearing the Moretti mention Victoria’s name during a phone call—thanking her. Saying they never would’ve gotten to me so easily without her help.

Victoria sounded she didn’t just hate me. She hated both Matteo and me.

She’d driven a wedge between us—not only because she blamed me for her father’s death, but because keeping us divided gave her control. She needed Matteo close. She needed me isolated.