The Mafia Heir Who Came Back from the Grave

It had been six years since Vincent Castellano was declared dead in that “car crash”, and I was still alone.

My friends kept nagging me to move on. Even in my dreams, Vincent was there, begging me to stop living in the past.

So I finally caved and agreed to a blind date with Leo Christopher, the guy who’d been chasing me for years. I’d decided I’d make a clean break with Vincent once and for all on the Day of the Dead.

But the second I stepped out of the cemetery, a billboard for a luxury brownstone in Brooklyn Heights caught my eye. It was the exact place Vincent had been obsessed with back when I thought he was alive.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I was heading straight for it.

What I saw that day is seared into my brain for the rest of my life.

There, on the bench outside the house, sat Vincent. The man was laid to rest in the Castellano family crypt. And he had his arm around another woman.

That woman? Mia Rossi. The card dealer he’d been screwing behind my back six years prior. The same one I’d caught him red-handed with, the one I’d made him fire from the family casino.

The second our eyes met, a flash of panic crossed Mia’s face.

"Elena..."

Vincent, however, looked like he was fast asleep, relaxed and carefree.

Just then, the voices of Vincent’s consigliere, Sonny, and his men drifted out from inside the house.

"Vincent’s been married to Mia for six years, and Elena is still stuck in that 'he's dead' fantasy. She’s still single."

"I heard she agreed to a blind date recently. Guess she's finally letting go?"

"Not to mention, that whole setup was brutal. Back then, Mia sent him a spicy photo, and he rushed out in a downpour to get to Brooklyn, crashed his car, and Elena ended up thinking he died rushing to her birthday party."

"Elena’s tried to off herself multiple times out of guilt over it."

"Yeah, well, now that she's agreed to move on, I pulled the surveillance on her. Six years is a long time; she shouldn't be a problem anymore..."

They kept talking as they walked out the door. The moment they saw me, every voice died in their throats.

Sonny and the others were frozen solid.

That’s when the voice I’d missed for six years finally spoke up.

"What's wrong? Slept like a log..."

Hearing that voice, my breath caught in my chest, my heart skipping a beat.

Vincent rubbed his eyes and finally saw me standing before him.

His body went rigid, his pupils shrinking in shock.

I stared at him, a mocking and icy smile twisting my lips. "Vincent, you've been living pretty damn well these last six years."

Vincent instinctively shoved Mia behind him, his face a mask of embarrassment and shame.

Everyone else was frozen stiff, the silence terrifying.

Six years ago, everyone told me Vincent died in a car crash in a downpour, rushing to celebrate my birthday. By the time I got to the hospital, all I saw was Vincent covered in blood, and the top doctors coldly informed me they’d done everything they could.

Consumed by guilt and grief, I cried until I passed out at his funeral. When I woke up, Sonny told me the burial was already over.

It only deepened my guilt. For countless nights after, I couldn't sleep. I’d drive to the cemetery and stay there all night.

I even slit my wrists at his grave. It was only because the caretaker found me that I survived.

But I never imagined it was all an elaborate scam to fake his death.

I walked into the house and saw the photos on the mantelpiece. There Vincent and Mia were, standing together in front of a Sicilian castle. My eyes burned.

"Nice photos," I sneered.

Vincent had once told me there was a dealer at the casino with impeccable taste who was helping plan our wedding.

Once, when I was debating locations for the shoot, Mia had stood nearby and suggested timidly, "I think a Sicilian castle would be unique. Each one is one-of-a-kind, symbolizing exclusivity."

Vincent had praised her creativity back then.

But not long after, I found a pair of Sicilian blue sapphire earrings in his car, and a pair of lace gloves embroidered with initials.

Mia Rossi’s initials.

I insisted on calling off the engagement.

Vincent stood on the bell tower of the Castellano estate, half his body leaning over the railing.

"Elena, if you cancel the wedding, I’ll jump right now."

I caved, giving him another chance.

He fired Mia and tried to make it up to me.

And in the end, he "paid with his life" for me.

But now, he was alive and well, building a whole new life with the woman I thought I’d already cut out of the picture.

I laughed bitterly and hurled the picture frame to the ground.

Glass shattered everywhere. Mia let out a shriek.

"Elena!" Vincent shouted.

I laughed at myself, looking at him. "These six years, I’ve lived like a lunatic!"

Vincent, however, looked at me with pure blame. "Back then, I was going to kill myself, and you stopped me! I did everything you asked, but you just kept clinging to it, torturing me! Do you have any idea how exhausting it was to live like that?"

I slapped him across the face. The impact stung my wrist, and tears sprang to my eyes.

"Vincent, you were the one who cheated! You were the one who lied! How dare you say I tortured you? Say you were exhausted?"

Mia suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face. "Elena, it’s all my fault. I seduced Vincent. He kept his promise to you, but I kept pursuing him. I’ll divorce him right now."

She clutched her stomach, her voice full of faux pity. "As for the baby... I’ll get rid of it."

Vincent grabbed her arm. "Mia, you're pregnant?"