The day I was supposed to marry Dante, his Principessa, Valentina, provoked a rival family on the city outskirts, ending with her being taken hostage in the ensuing shootout.

She sent a message for Dante to come rescue her, alone.

This was the "knight and princess" game they had been playing since childhood.

Valentina would recklessly court death, and Dante would risk his life, time and again, to bring her back from a hail of bullets.

In my past life, Dante claimed he was tired of it and insisted on completing our wedding.

But Valentina refused a rescue from her own family. She was ultimately brutalized by our rivals and left utterly broken.

Dante didn't even attend Valentina's "welcome home" party, only saying that she had reaped what she sowed.

But a few months later, while I was staying at a secluded villa awaiting the birth of our child, a massive explosion ripped through the property.

Dante locked the exits and screamed at me through the flames, "If you had just said something—anything—to convince me not to be so stubborn with her, Valentina wouldn't have ended up like this!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at our wedding, at the very moment he hung up on Valentina's distress call.

I smiled and adjusted his bow tie. "Go on, knight. Your Principessa is waiting for you."

After Dante left, I dialed the number of the Don of the Falcone family, a man whose life they had indirectly shattered.

"Mr. Falcone, I hear you're in need of a wife?"

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1

After a long night of negotiations, I finally settled the terms of my marriage alliance with the Falcone family.

Just then, Dante’s call came in. "Isabella, Valentina's a little banged up. I'm going to stay with her at the safe house for a few days."

"You tell our families the wedding is off. Make it a clean break."

I was busy examining the catalog of antique jewelry Lorenzo's men had sent over.

The pages glittered with heirlooms spanning generations.

I answered without looking up. "Fine. Do what you need to do. I'll handle my family."

Dante sounded surprised by my composure. "But hasn't your father always had a problem with me?"

Dante was a street orphan, adopted by the Don of the Caruso family. Later, for Valentina's sake, he gave up the chance to become a Capo and became her dedicated enforcer.

My father found Dante's street-rat origins beneath our family, and his constant drama with Valentina made him vehemently oppose our marriage.

I'd only insisted on the marriage because I felt indebted to him; he'd once carried me from a pile of bodies during a firefight in the snow.

In my previous life, with the wedding hall full of guests and my father's face ashen, I couldn't bring myself to tell him to go to her.

Dante had also insisted that Valentina was a grown woman, responsible for her own actions.

I just never imagined he would pin it all on me in the end.

Hearing the feigned worry in his voice, I let out a soft chuckle. "Saving her is what you do. No one will object. Don't worry, just stay with Valentina."

Dante let out a long sigh of relief. "Isabella, I knew you'd be so understanding."

"Not like Valentina. She's a grown woman but still throws tantrums like a spoiled child."

Before hanging up, Dante's voice came through again, hesitant.

"Isabella, about the reparations for this shootout, I want to front the money for Valentina."

"So... that pink diamond I had custom-made for you? I'm going to have to return it."

Hearing this, I didn't even lift my eyes from the jewelry catalog.

"Fine. Do what you think is best."

The other end of the line went silent.

Dante was undoubtedly shocked by my easy agreement.

After all, I'd thrown more than one fit over him cleaning up Valentina's messes.

The year we first met, on New Year's Eve, Valentina stole a rival family's racehorse and went on a wild tear down the highway.

Dante abandoned me, leading his men to clean up the mess all night.

On my birthday, Valentina provoked another family's Capo and ended up dangling from the Brooklyn Bridge.

Dante put down the freshly cut cake and left to negotiate with their Consigliere.

Dante told me Valentina had been diagnosed with severe psychological issues as a child and wasn't expected to live past thirty—that's why she was so desperate for attention.

He asked me not to hold it against her.

At first, I could tolerate it.

But on the day of my mother's funeral, Valentina was double-crossed during a private arms deal overseas.

Dante still left.

Dressed in black, standing in the pouring rain, I lost my temper with him for the first time.

But afterward, Dante's own men turned around and blamed me.

"Isabella, Valentina is all alone in a foreign country. It's so dangerous."

"If Dante doesn't go, she could die!"

"Why are you picking a fight with a dying girl?"

Right, why was I picking a fight with a dying girl?

But Valentina was always "about to die," yet she never did.

She only got worse, even managing to ruin Dante's proposal to me three times.

Each time, I would have a huge fight with Dante.

Dante would hold me, his face a mask of exhaustion, saying that Valentina wore him out, that she was always reckless, like a child who would never grow up.

But the Caruso family had raised him, and he had to repay that debt.

I asked him when the repayment would end.

He fell silent, only telling me to wait a little longer.

Later, things went smoothly all the way to our wedding, and Dante no longer indulged Valentina's antics.

I thought he truly meant his promises—that from now on, he would be responsible only for me.

I never imagined he could ever let go of that childish knight and princess game with Valentina.

If that's the case, then let them play it for a lifetime.

On the phone, Dante's voice, rambling on, pulled me from my thoughts.

"Isabella, don't be angry. Once I've settled Valentina down, I promise I'll make it up to you with an even grander wedding."

Before he could finish, Valentina's tearful scream came through the phone.

"Dante! My leg hurts so much! The doctor said it's going to scar. I'll never wear a short skirt again!"

Dante hurriedly said, "I have to go check on her, I'll call you back..."

He hung up mid-sentence.

I tossed my phone onto the table. No, Dante. This time, I won't be waiting.

The next day, I was wheeling Lorenzo to a private clinic for his physical therapy session.

Just as we neared the consultation room, I saw Dante.

He saw me, and his gaze fell on Lorenzo behind me. His face instantly darkened like a thundercloud.

Dante yanked me into the fire escape stairwell.

"Isabella Rossi, what is the meaning of this?"

"You were so agreeable on the phone, and now you show up with him to provoke Valentina?"

"You say one thing on the phone and then pull this stunt? This is what you call being 'understanding'?"

"I'm not looking for trouble." I wrenched my hand from his grip; his touch repulsed me.

Dante sneered, clearly not believing me.

"Do you have any idea how guilty Valentina felt when she found out about his legs? She couldn't sleep for a whole month!"

"Do you know how much effort I put in to help her get over it?"

"And now, just because I left you at the altar, you're taking it out on Valentina by deliberately bringing him here to reopen her old wounds? You disgust me!"

His words extinguished any warmth left in my heart.

In my past life, I thought he had gone mad because of what happened to Valentina.

I never realized he had already lost all sense of right and wrong for her.

I couldn't be bothered to waste another word on him and turned to go back to Lorenzo.

"Stop!" Dante roared behind me. "Isabella, if you dare go in there today, our wedding is off for another three years!"

I was about to turn and tell him there was no need to postpone, that we were completely over.

But the door to the adjacent hospital room creaked open.

Valentina called out in a frail voice, "Dante, where did you go?"

When her eyes swept over Lorenzo, her face turned deathly pale.

Dante's reaction was astonishingly fast.

He lunged forward, shielding Valentina in his arms as if she were a precious treasure.

"Don't be afraid, Valentina. It's okay. I'll take you away right now. We don't have to look at this filth."

The door was slammed shut.

The hallway fell into a dead silence once more.

I looked at Lorenzo. "Aren't you angry?"

Come to think of it, Dante didn't seem to know Lorenzo's true identity.

When Valentina's recklessness led to Lorenzo being ambushed by a rival family, Dante, too busy saving her, never sent backup. He missed the critical window, and as a result, Lorenzo's legs were permanently damaged.

Yet Lorenzo never pursued the matter.

Given the Falcone family's power, crushing Dante and the Carusos would have been as simple as making a phone call. My own Rossi family wouldn't have had the standing to plead for them.

Lorenzo, from his wheelchair, calmly shook his head. "Why would I get angry at two idiots?"

"Besides, he was your..."

Just then, the clinic's manager stopped us, a troubled look on his face.

"I'm sorry, but the Carusos have commandeered all our specialists for Miss Valentina's consultation."

He paused, then added, "Even the specialist you flew in from Europe for Mr. Falcone... he's been redirected to her case."

I couldn't believe my ears.

I was about to pull out my phone to call Dante when a message from him arrived.

"Use your family's connections to smooth this over for Valentina, and I'll forgive you for bringing someone to scare her today."

I ignored the text and shoved my phone back into my pocket.

"Mr. Falcone, I'll take you to another hospital."

By the time I had taken Lorenzo for his check-up and driven him back to the Falcone estate, it was already evening.

As soon as I reached my own front door, I saw Dante's car blocking the driveway.

"You froze my card?" he demanded the moment he saw me. "How am I supposed to find the best lawyer for Valentina?"

I found it laughable.

"What does Valentina's trouble have to do with me?"

Dante looked at me in disbelief.

"Isabella, we're about to get married! Valentina is my family, which means she'll be your family too!"

"She's lying in a hospital bed, in too much pain to sleep. How can you say something so cold-blooded?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"I'm cold-blooded?"

"Dante, do you have any idea how many people died because of that shootout Valentina started?"

Dante's face stiffened for a moment before he waved his hand dismissively.

"Their families have already been compensated."

"Valentina is just childish. She was acting on a whim and didn't think it through."

He frowned, speaking to me in a lecturing tone.

"As my wife, you should be tolerant of her, not bickering over every little thing."

Tired of his twisted logic, I tried to push past him.

"I'm not marrying into the Caruso family."

Dante grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he might crush the bones. His eyes burned with fury.

"Isabella, don't push me! Marrying you doesn't mean I'm abandoning Valentina!"

"Then let's not get married." I calmly shook his hand off.

Dante froze.

Then, as if he'd heard the biggest joke in the world, he started to laugh coldly.

"Not getting married?"

"Isabella, I saw it all. Your Rossi family just booked the most luxurious hotel and even hired a new wedding planning team."

"If you don't marry me, who are you going to marry?"

Just as I was about to speak, his phone rang.

Valentina's cloying voice came through the speaker.

"Dante, I want to drink the limited-edition champagne from that cellar in the south of the city."

Dante immediately softened his voice to soothe her.

After hanging up, he snatched the identical bottle of champagne—a gift from Lorenzo—from my hand.

"At least you have some heart, remembering Valentina likes this."

"Alright, I'll give you two days to cool off."

"Think carefully about how you're going to apologize to me, and how you're going to make amends to Valentina."

"Otherwise, I won't be showing up on the wedding day."