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."

After hanging up, I went back to my room and packed my bags.

The next morning, I'd just snapped shut the locks on my suitcase when the door was kicked open.

Dante stormed in and immediately seized the armrests of my wheelchair. Then, he ripped me straight out of it.

"The Colombo family's Soldati has captured Principessa Sofia. You're coming with me now."

I took the opportunity to slip my right hand into the hidden compartment in the side panel of my wheelchair. My fingertips brushed against cold metal. By the time I pulled out the gun, the barrel was already pressed against Dante's chest.

"Don't move. What does Sofia being kidnapped have to do with me?"

Dante didn't let go. His eyes were bloodshot. Clearly, he had been up all night.

"That 100-billion-dollar merger you secured for Vittorio ate up three of the Colombo family's core business lines. They've lost nearly half their territory," he said hoarsely through gritted teeth. "This mess is your doing, so you're the one the Colombo family wants."

My finger remained on the trigger.

The sound of hurried footsteps came from outside the door. Luca rushed in, his face as pale as a sheet.

"Dante, the Colombos just called again. They're asking for Isabella. They said if they don't see her, they'll send one of Principessa Sofia's fingers in half an hour."

Without wasting another word, Dante reached out to snatch the gun from my hand.

But I was faster. I flipped the gun and slammed the butt of it hard into his jaw.

Dante's head snapped to the side. His lip split open, and blood dripped down his chin.

"Even if Papa doesn't give a damn about me," I said, fixing my eyes on him, "I am still a Moretti. And when does the eldest daughter of the Moretti family ever get pushed and pulled around by the likes of you two?"

Dante wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His gaze was dark, as if he wanted to devour me alive.

"My apologies, Ms. Isabella. After we trade you for Principessa Sofia, Luca and I will personally go before Don Moretti to accept our punishment."

He shot Luca a look.

Luca moved in from the side so quickly that I had no time to react. He caught the barrel of my gun with surgical precision and pressed his thumb down. The magazine dropped out, clattering to the floor.

I swung the empty gun at his face, but Dante caught my arm from behind.

The two of them pinned my arms behind my back, one on each side, and hauled me out of the room. Then, they roughly shoved me into the back seat of a black sedan waiting in the backyard.

The moment the car door slammed shut, the bindings cut painfully into my wrists.

The engine started. Dante was driving, while Luca sat beside me.

For about two minutes, no one spoke. Then, Luca leaned over and brought his lips almost to my ear.

"You've been reborn too, haven't you?"

His voice was so impossibly low that Dante could never hear it from the front seat.

I turned to look at his scarred face, then raised my hand and slapped him.

The crack of the slap exploded inside the sealed car. Dante glanced at us in the rearview mirror but said nothing.

"Two lifetimes," I said, my voice cold. "And you're still this cruel to me."

Luca didn't dodge the slap, and the red mark layered over his old scar.

He was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke, his voice was very soft.

"We're just putting on a show for the Colombo family. Once we get there, I'll find a way to get you out."

I didn't respond.

He took my right hand and slipped a metal bangle, about the thickness of a thumb, around my wrist. Then, he pulled down my sleeve to cover it.

"It's a spring-loaded knife. Give it a twist, and it pops out. In case I can't get to you in time, use it to save yourself."