My younger sister, Sofia Moretti, and I grow up on milk. While our peers are showing no signs of growth, both of us are blessed with an early puberty.

Our father, a mafia Don, is worried that we might get tricked into giving our bodies away to young men at an early age, so he has been nurturing two confidants for us when we were still kids.

After we come of age, Dad makes each of us choose one as a fiancé.

Sofia is the first one to pick Dante, the tall, well-built, and cold-looking older brother. The only choice I have left is Luca, the younger brother who has gotten partially disfigured by an enemy and often wakes up in fright due to the nightmares.

In my previous life, I knew that once I rejected Luca, who had PTSD from his past, he'd definitely get kicked out of my family. No one would be able to protect him anymore. So, I took the initiative to accept the marriage proposal.

Since Luca tended to jolt awake from his nightmares and tremble violently, I moved to the room next door so that I could guard his door at all times.

Whenever Luca was insulted or mocked by my uncles and relatives at family meetings, I'd dig out my pistol and slap it onto the table to shut them up.

I spent three years accompanying Luca to therapy sessions. That was how I learned to pick up on every symptom he exhibited before he went into his anxiety mode.

I thought I'd be able to touch Luca's heart by offering him my own.

But when an enemy family set up a trap that resulted in my and Sofia's kidnapping, they plunged poisonous blades through our stomachs and forced Luca to choose to only save one of us with an antidote. That was when Luca gave the antidote to Sofia without hesitation.

"Sorry, but Sofia needs the antidote more than you do."

It turned out that Luca had been in love with Sofia this whole time.

After Luca picked Sofia up and was about to leave, he murmured to me, "If there ever is a next lifetime, I'll use my life to pay this debt."

My final memory of that lifetime consisted of the scorching pain that ate through my organs left behind by the poison.

When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm supposed to pick out my fiance.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself standing in the center of the drawing room of our family estate.

The fingernail marks I'd dug into the back of my hand were still seeping blood, a reminder that everything from my past life had been real.

Sofia tilted her head and glanced at me. Then, she turned to our Papa and said softly, "Papa, it seems like Isabella hasn't made up her mind, so how about I go first?"

Papa nodded.

Sofia put on a contemplative expression, her gaze sweeping back and forth between Dante and Luca a couple of times before she finally sighed.

"I'll choose Luca. Isabella has always been frail, and Dante is strong. He can take care of her. As for Luca's condition… I have a cheerful disposition, so I should be better suited to help him heal."

As she said this, Dante's eyelid twitched, and his jaw tightened.

I simply stared silently at the kind, considerate look on Sofia's face.

This very scene had played out once before in my past life. Sofia had used the exact same words and the same thoughtfulness.

At the time, Sofia and Dante had already taken a liking to each other, yet she suddenly claimed that since I was frail, the strong Dante should look after me. At the same time, she argued that she—sunny and outgoing—was better suited to help Luca recover.

And I'd believed her.

Not only did I give Dante up, but I also willingly took on all of Luca's trauma and nightmares.

It wasn't until the night the poisoned blade pierced my abdomen that I realized the truth. Luca couldn't even lift his gun, yet he didn't hesitate to seize the only antidote for Sofia when she clearly had an emergency antidote in her pocket.

Sofia had accurately predicted that I would relent and step aside. She took the best resources for herself while earning a reputation for being considerate.

But this time, I looked up and met her gaze, which was filled with conviction that I would turn her down.

"Let's just do what Sofia says."

Sofia's kind expression froze.

Luca was also stunned, a flicker of surprise flashing through his eyes.

"No," Papa said in a deep voice. "Sofia, you are the most honored Principessa of the Moretti family. Both the Colombo and Rizzo families are spying on you from the shadows, so the one who protects you must be able to fight on the battlefield. Luca can't even hold a gun steady, so how could he possibly protect you?"

Sofia was about to respond, her lips parting. But Luca beat her to it.

"Don Moretti, I have fully recovered from PTSD and can carry out any mission for the family."

I stared at him.

In my previous life, during the three years we were married, I consulted every top psychiatrist in all of Lexingville, learned to recognize every sign of an impending episode, and kept watch outside his door night after night. However, he had never been able to pick up a gun.

But now, just to stay by Sofia's side, he couldn't even bother with the pretense anymore.

It seemed like he, too, had been reborn.

I almost wanted to laugh.

The last thing I saw before I died in my previous life was him storming into the enemy's stronghold alone, putting a bullet perfectly into their heart, just to steal the antidote for Sofia.

That was when I realized it wasn't that he couldn't pick up a gun; he just wouldn't do it for me.

Papa didn't respond right away. Instead, he scrutinized Luca heavily and said, "Talk is cheap. Prove it to me."

Luca moved.

The personal bodyguard at Papa's right side didn't even have time to reach before the gun at his waist was taken. The magazine was ejected, the gun disassembled into three parts, and everything was laid out neatly on the table.

The whole process took less than ten seconds.

Papa raised an eyebrow.

Sofia's eyes lit up, and the way she looked at Luca carried something that hadn't been there before.

In the previous life, she'd found the scar on Luca's face displeasing and had chosen Dante's aloof, unblemished face instead. This time around, she didn't seem to mind at all.

"Very well then," Papa said with a nod. "Luca will take Sofia. And Dante, you'll be responsible for Isabella."

Dante hadn't moved from where he stood. When he heard that, the muscles in his jaw tightened.

"Don Moretti, forgive me for speaking plainly." He knelt on one knee and lowered his head. "I come from humble origins and am unworthy of marrying Ms. Isabella. Please choose someone else."

His tone was respectful, but he hadn't been able to hide the look of disgust he shot at my wheelchair before he knelt.

I'd been wheelchair-bound for 12 years now.

When I was eight years old, Sofia was chasing a cat on the dock and ran onto the road. I threw myself forward and pushed her out of the way, only to have both my legs run over by an out-of-control truck.

And it was precisely because of these useless legs that I lost my place as the successor.

Sofia gained an intact life and, as a matter of course, took the position that should have been mine.

Papa's expression turned dark and stormy.

Nothing mattered more to him in this life than his pride. Yet, here was a trusted subordinate he had raised since he was young, openly refusing to marry his daughter, and in front of so many people at that.

"Are you saying Isabella isn't good enough for you?"

Sofia quickly rushed over and crouched beside Dante. Then, in a lowered voice, she said urgently, "Dante, apologize to Papa right now. This is no joke."

Dante lifted his head, his gaze toward Sofia, obedient yet resolute.

"Principessa Sofia, rest assured that I have never harbored any disloyalty toward your family."

It was the same act again—one desperately pledging loyalty, and the other anxiously mediating.

The two of them played off each other seamlessly, as if terrified that no one would notice the unspoken understanding between them.

I didn't want to watch anymore.

"Papa, let Dante and Luca both go to Sofia," I said evenly. "With the two of them protecting her, I can rest easy."

Papa turned to look at me.

"I don't want to think about marriage for the time being," I added. "Let me go to Uncle Vittorio's side and learn how to manage the business from him. I promise I won't cause any trouble for the family."

Sofia wasn't my real sister.

In my previous life, less than a week after my Mama, Ottavia Vivaldi, was laid to rest, Papa brought his mistress, Bianca Malaspina, home. And, trailing behind her, was a girl about my age.

She was none other than Sofia.

Papa said he would treat us both fairly. But as the family business grew, the dividends Sofia received each quarter were enough to buy an entire arms-smuggling route. In contrast, I couldn't even buy myself a bottle of painkillers without filling out forms and waiting for finance to sign off.

Dante and Luca's parents died taking bullets for Papa in a shootout. Out of loyalty to the past, Papa brought the two brothers home, saying they would be raised separately to serve as trusted right-hand men for Sofia and me.

But from start to finish, both of them only ever had eyes for Sofia.

Thus, I decided not to rely on anyone anymore in this life. If I wanted to rewrite my fate, I'd have to take a seat at the table myself.

Having no interest in me, Uncle Vittorio threw me into a junior role at one of the family's investment firms and didn't even bother to give me a real desk.

I didn't kick up a fuss. Instead, I just kept my head down and worked hard.

In my previous life, I'd spent seven years in the venture capital circles of Mayview Street. Thus, I knew better than any analyst which funds were about to implode, which sectors were about to take off, and which companies had landmines buried in their financial reports.

Within three months, I had precisely executed two deals that no one else dared to touch and secured a merger agreement worth 100 billion dollars for the family.

For the first time, Uncle Vittorio invited me to dinner on his own initiative and brought me to a closed-door evening banquet reserved for only the inner circle.

When he introduced me to the family heads sitting around the table, this was what he said. "This is my brother Ettore's eldest daughter, Isabella."

Word traveled fast.

Within two weeks, the mafia circles were all talking about how the Moretti family's wheelchair-bound firstborn was ten times more capable than her spendthrift younger sister.

On the first night I returned to the family estate, before I could even make it to my room, Sofia cornered me at the end of the hallway.

Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, she said nonchalantly, "Isabella, you've been making quite a splash lately."

I didn't stop wheeling, so she stepped forward and blocked my path.

"You're already crippled, so stop running around making trouble. You should just find someone to marry and seal a decent marriage alliance for the family. That would be the least you could do to repay Papa for raising you all these years."

I looked up at her. "Sofia, are you afraid I'm going to take your place?"

Her expression changed for a moment. But just as quickly, she smiled and said, "You're overthinking it. I'm just looking out for you."

"Looking out for me?" I locked eyes with her and said emphatically, "Back when the black sedan came barreling toward you at the docks, I was the one who yanked you behind me."

Her smile froze.

"But then the second truck came, you shoved me forward."

For three seconds, silence hung in the hallway.

Sofia's eyes reddened instantly, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"Isabella, I was only six years old back then. Not to mention, I was terrified. I didn't mean to shove you. How could you think that of me? I'm not that evil."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked so pitiful and heartbreaking.

Dante had somehow already appeared behind her. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and wrapped her in his coat.

Luca rushed over too, standing beside Dante. He pointed at me and said in a voice tight with anger, "Isabella, you've gone too far. Apologize to Principessa Sofia right now!"

I took hold of his index finger and forcefully snapped it outward. His joint let out a sharp, clean crack.

Luca let out a muffled grunt, his knees nearly buckling.

I released my grip and turned to Sofia. "I'm telling you, Sofia—you'd better keep your lapdogs under control and teach them some manners."

Dante's head snapped up, a flash of menace in his eyes. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and something glinted under the hallway lights as he pulled it out.

It was a ruby ring.

My blood instantly ran cold.

Mamma had put that ring on my finger just before she died. It was the only thing she ever left me.

Later, Sofia set her sights on it. And one day, it disappeared from my jewelry box.

"Apologize to Principessa Sofia," Dante said, holding the ring high above his head as he towered above me. "Apologize, and I'll give the ring back to you. Otherwise, I'll smash it to pieces right now."

His thumb and forefinger clamped down on either side of the ring, squeezing it with just enough force to make the metal let out a faint, creaking whine.

My hands lost all control, seizing the armrests and wrenching the wheelchair forward. It jolted half a step, but the ring remained just out of reach.

Dante raised the ring even higher, a cold smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll count to three. Three, two…"

I was shaking all over, my nails biting into my palms until blood began to seep out.

"One."

"I'm sorry."

I forced those words out, as if I were tearing them out of my throat.

Dante smirked in satisfaction and dropped the ring.

Luca quickly caught it and hurried over to me. His eyes darted away as he handed the ring over.

Without looking at him, I took the ring and clenched it in my palm. Then, I turned my wheelchair around and left without so much as a backward glance.

After turning the corner at the end of the hallway, I pulled the encrypted phone from the side pocket of my wheelchair and dialed a number.

The call connected immediately.

"The game is over," I said. After a brief pause, I added, "And come get me. I've decided to marry you."