The Queen the Don Lost

"You're my sister. I don't care if I'm drugged—this ain't it. You ain't my cure." Carlo Quaranta's eyes were shot red, chest heaving, but that rage? Way hotter than any craving.

"Even if you make me marry you, I'll never love you."

Vera Este didn't doubt it. Not for a second. He meant every damn word. Last time, she was the so-called "cure"... and it dragged her straight into marriage.

She stared at his face—still young. Felt like it belonged to someone from a whole other life.

Vera Este lost her folks young, growing up in an orphanage until she was ten. Her looks? More curse than blessing—some creep nearly took her home once.

Then Carlo Quaranta showed up like some kinda hero. Hauled her to the Quaranta estate and had his folks adopt her as their own. One minute she was a nobody, next she was a mafia principessa.

He taught her the rules—how to read, how to fight, how to survive in a world where kindness gets you killed.

He was the Don—cold, calculated, ruthless. But with her? He had one soft spot he never let anyone see.

That softness messed with her head. Made her want things she had no business wanting.

In her last life, Gina Chisari—principessa of the Chisari family—played dirty. She threatened Vera with the lives of the orphanage kids just to shove her out of Montavera and away from the Quaranta name.

Vera brushed it off. Thought Gina couldn't touch anything on Quaranta turf.

Then Carlo got drugged... and Vera gave in. Gave herself to him, became his so-called cure, and ended up his wife.

On their wedding day, the orphanage went up in flames. Faulty wiring, no survivors.

That place and Carlo were all she had. When she thought of the director's soft smile or the kids' laughter, it gutted her.

After the wedding, Carlo iced her out. No warmth, no words. Like she was just some stranger crashing his life.

She figured he couldn't handle how their bond had shifted. Thought if she waited long enough, he'd come around.

So she waited. Her whole damn life.

Truth only hit right before she died—right there on his phone. Gina'd been with him the whole time.

Gina had drugged him. The whole thing? A sick lovers' game.

Vera's "sacrifice" was just a pathetic move in someone else's play.

She died with that weight in her chest—grief, betrayal, and a joke of a life.

Then she woke up.

It was that night all over again—Carlo, drugged out and thrashing on the bed.

This time, she grabbed the phone. "That deal you offered—sending me abroad if you keep the orphanage safe. I'm in."

Two beats of silence. Then Gina laughed, all fake sunshine. "Finally came to your senses? Don't worry, the visa's already processing. Once I'm your sister-in-law, I'll—"

Vera cut her off. "Save it. You drugged Carlo, didn't you? Get over here. He's not gonna hold out much longer."

She hung up.

Carlo was clawing at his own clothes now, the drug fully kicked in.

He was burning up, eyes glassy and wild. He reached for her—pure instinct.

She shoved him back without blinking.

As she turned to leave, his voice snapped through the air. "Vera! Don't you walk out on me! Get back here!"

She paused.

Footsteps echoed outside.

She glanced back once. "The one you really need's almost here."

Then she walked out.

The door shut behind her, sealing in the heat, the chaos—and two lifetimes' worth of obsession.

This time, she wasn't sticking around.

This time, she didn't want to be his bride.