My father’s fury exploded. “Marco, what is the meaning of this?” he thundered, his face a mask of rage. “In my own house? You dare humiliate my daughter under my roof?”

Marco didn't flinch. His eyes were cold with disdain. "My apologies, Don Giovanni. But my wife can only be Cassandra."

"Marry Seraphina? I'd rather die alone."

Cassandra shot me a look of feigned sympathy, but a triumphant smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Marco, don't be so cruel. Have you forgotten… when we were children? Wasn't there some affection between you and Seraphina? I still remember you crying your eyes out, begging someone to save her."

She spoke softly, stroking Marco's arm with a cloying intimacy.

If she hadn't mentioned it, I might have forgotten that foolish moment from our childhood.

In a way, Marco and I did grow up together. We were playmates.

When we were ten, he ditched his bodyguards and dragged me on an "adventure." We were ambushed by men from a rival family.

To buy Marco time to get help, I drew the gunmen away. He escaped; I was captured.

They broke my arm and threw me into a freezing river. Somehow, I survived, but the trauma carved deep scars into my soul. I became timid and withdrawn, afraid of my own shadow.

Now, Marco gazed at Cassandra, his expression softening.

"How could I forget? If you hadn't heard the commotion and brought the guards, they would have torn me apart. You saved me, Cassandra."

Then, he shot me a look of pure disgust, as if I were filth on his shoe.

"If you hadn't held that so-called 'debt' over my head all these years, I would have proposed to Cassandra long ago."

A triumphant smile flashed across Cassandra's lips before she quickly hid it, burying her face in Marco's neck.

I took a deep breath, my voice steady.

"Since my dear sister is so in love with Marco, yet can't bear to hurt Angelo, why don't you simply take them both?"

Cassandra's face flushed crimson, as if I'd mortally wounded her honor.

"Seraphina, how could you say such a thing? Have you no shame?"

"And what would you get out of this? Who would even have you then?"

"I don't know what the future holds," I said, rising slowly, my voice firm. "But right now, I want neither of them."

Both men stared at me.

Marco's eyes held a condescending amusement. Angelo's gaze turned sharp, dangerous, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to see right through me.

I avoided his stare. The memory of my husband from a past life, the man who let me take a bullet for his true love, sent a shard of ice through my heart.

Father crushed the whiskey glass in his hand, shards digging into his palm.

"Enough! You are a daughter of this family. Your duty is to marry for the family's advancement. You think you have a choice?"

I stood my ground against his crushing presence, meeting his furious gaze without an ounce of fear.

"There are other ways to serve the family besides marriage."

"For the past three months, I know the Las Vegas underworld has been paralyzed by an art forgery crisis. No restorer can solve it."

"Send me there. I will restore the paintings and our family's credibility. Consider it the price of my freedom."

In my last life, my father had confiscated the masterpieces I restored, all in the name of family honor.

He presented them to Cassandra, who shamelessly claimed my work, basking in the fame and fortune it brought her.

Meanwhile, I wasted my time brewing useless remedies for Angelo's so-called madness.

When I ran out of rare materials, I went to Cassandra for help.

She laughed in my face, then had her guards break my fingers and throw me out like a stray dog.

And for what? I could never fill the void in Angelo's heart.

I learned my lesson: giving your heart to a man who has no room for you is a slow, agonizing suicide.

Now that God has given me a second chance, I refuse to make the same mistake.

Thanks to that fool Marco, my father was more than happy to be rid of me.

That, at least, saved me some trouble.

Without a second glance, I left for Las Vegas.

There, no one cared about the Rinaldi blood in my veins. To them, Cassandra was the one and only Principessa. I was less than her shadow.

But that didn't matter. I had my own ambitions, and now, the power to achieve them.

In the past, my life had revolved around Angelo. I had neglected my own talent.

For three months in Vegas, I threw myself into my work, using my expertise to solve problems that had stumped collectors for years.

Soon, I single-handedly restored a masterwork thought to be lost forever, ending the forgery crisis that had gripped the city.

The collectors, who had known only despair, bowed their heads to me in gratitude.

In the city of sin, my name became a symbol of rebirth. I was a master restorer.

Finally, I was no longer Cassandra's backdrop. I'd had enough of that to last a thousand lifetimes.

Unexpectedly, just as I was making a name for myself, my father, who I assumed wanted nothing more than for me to crawl back and accept a marriage, sent a summons I couldn't ignore.

When his voice came over the phone, his tone was uncharacteristically magnanimous.

"Seraphina, you have proven your worth. Come home. Your birthday is approaching, and I've prepared a grand banquet in your honor."

Against my better judgment, a foolish flicker of hope for a father's love urged me to return.

I journeyed home, only to find the banquet hall utterly empty.

A servant informed me that everyone, including my father, was on the other side of the estate, attending a lavish party hosted by Cassandra.

I spent my birthday alone, with a single slice of cake, tears of rage and humiliation streaming down my face.

As I left the empty hall, I ran into Cassandra and her entourage as they were leaving their own celebration.

Her smile was sweet, but her eyes were venomous with jealousy.

"Seraphina, I heard you made quite a name for yourself in Las Vegas, cozying up to all those old collectors. How utterly shameless."

She covered her mouth in mock horror. "They say there's a dirty way to fix those impossible pieces, by trading certain… favors with the restorer. Is that how you did it? You're a disgrace to this family."

She glanced at the tall, brooding Angelo beside her, a cruel idea lighting up her face.

"Oh, I see. Debasing yourself just to get a man's attention. Well, you won't have to worry about that for long. Father has already arranged a new husband for you."

"I hear your new fiancé has beaten several wives to death, but at least he's a Capo."

"From now on, you can forget Las Vegas. I'll be taking over your studio. It's time someone stopped you from tarnishing our family's name."

My face was a mask of calm, but inside, a volcano was erupting.

"I built that studio with my own two hands. You know nothing about restoration, yet you think you can just waltz in and take over? Why in God's name should I hand my life's work over to you?"

"Can't you stand that I'm no longer just your shadow? I owe you nothing. You touch what I've built, Cassandra, and I swear on my life, you will regret it."

Cassandra, shocked by my defiance, blinked in surprise.

But she recovered in an instant, the tears starting on cue.

"Seraphina, I'm just worried about you. How could you say such awful things?"

"I know you're jealous of me, but I just don't want to see you suffer..."

I couldn't even be bothered to roll my eyes. I turned to leave.

A strong scent of cedar closed in. Angelo's large hand clamped down on my arm.

His voice was low. "You've gotten bold."

I looked up at him, her loyal protector, and gave a bitter, silent laugh.

"Apologize to Cassandra." His tone was a command, imperious and absolute.

He used his other hand to lift my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his.

I peeled his fingers from my chin, one by one, then took a sharp step back.

"Save your heroics. Your protection is worthless to me, especially when you couldn't even be bothered to attend my birthday banquet."

His hand froze in mid-air. My cold dismissal had rendered him speechless.

He probably never imagined I could look at him with such utter, chilling indifference.

"You…" His throat worked, but no words came out.

I didn't spare him another glance. I packed my things, planning to return to Las Vegas that very night.

A few days later, however, just as I was leaving, Marco and Angelo blocked my path.

Marco grabbed my collar and slammed me against a rough stone wall.

"It was you, wasn't it!" he roared, his eyes wild.

I stared at him, bewildered. For a second, I wondered if he was the one who was truly insane.

"Cassandra went to an underground casino to buy some legendary restoration manual. She was trying to one-up you, to take over your operation in Vegas!"

"Someone drove up the price, and she couldn't cover her bid. Now the casino's thugs are holding her hostage! You're not going anywhere until we get her back!"

On the way to the casino, Angelo took a deep breath.

"I know. You remember our past life, too."

I glanced at him, a silent acknowledgment. After a moment, I spoke. "And what if I do? Are you still going to take her side?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The absurdity of it all made me shake my head. "Angelo, after dying once, is 'sorry' the only word you know?"

The next second, he lunged across the seat, pinning me and crushing his lips against mine.

"Seraphina," he gasped, pulling back an inch, his forehead resting against mine. "I swear to God, this is the last time I let anyone hurt you."

"We're just putting on a show to get your sister back. I'll keep you safe."

"This time, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

I wiped the ghost of his kiss from my lips. A cold smile formed. "Angelo, just one question. Are you really so blind you can't see this is all an act?"

Angelo hesitated, his gaze shifting away. "I… I'm not sure."

Not sure, or just telling himself another convenient lie?

What a joke.

They both knew her games, yet here they were again, pushing me to the front lines.

Stepping into the VIP room of the underground casino was like entering another world.

The air was thick with the stench of stale whiskey and old blood.

A pile of blood-stained IOUs sat on a rough iron table.

Cassandra was chained to a wall, a pathetic, wretched sight.

Her skin was chafed raw from the cuffs, her makeup streaked with tears, her eyes wide with terror.

Marco rushed towards her. "Cassandra, where are they hurting you?!"

"Back off. Who said you could touch the merchandise?"

The casino boss sneered, snapping his fingers.

Several thugs stepped forward, pressing the flat of their knives to Marco's chest.

"Cut the crap. Pay up, or this little Principessa goes on the auction block."

Angelo's eyes were bloodshot. He growled, "How much?"

"Ten million dollars. Not a penny less." The boss tapped the IOUs, a cruel smile on his face.

Marco sucked in a sharp breath. "That much?"

Even if they emptied their family coffers, they couldn't raise that kind of money on such short notice.

In that instant, the last shred of reason fled from Marco's eyes.

He stared at the IOU, then turned to me, his face a mask of malice.

"Seraphina has Rinaldi blood too! Let her stay in Cassandra's place!"

I froze. Every bloodthirsty gaze in the room swung to me.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Angelo's roar was deafening, the full authority of a Don behind it.

But Marco just sneered. "If Seraphina hadn't tried to steal the restorer's title, deliberately humiliating Cassandra, she never would have come to this godforsaken place! Cassandra is the victim here. It's only right that Seraphina cleans up her own mess!"

The casino boss threw his head back and laughed.

"Interesting. Since they're both Don Giovanni's daughters, a swap is acceptable."

"But this young man is too merciful. We'll sell her to a sheik in the Middle East. I hear they have a particular taste for Italian women."

"Or, we could always part her out. There's good money for organs on the black market."

Rage contorted Angelo's face. "I will never agree to this!"

But a piercing scream from Cassandra cut through the room.

"Angelo, save me! The shackles are silver, they're burning my skin! Please, take me away from here…"

Angelo's resolve wavered. His fists were clenched so tight his nails drew blood.

Finally, he turned to me.

His eyes held a struggling, pathetic plea.

"Seraphina, you don't want to see your sister suffer like this, do you?"

"You'll stay here. Just for a little while. I swear on my life, I will find a way to come back for you."

"Besides, you're a genius restorer. They wouldn't dare really hurt you."

A cold dread seeped into my bones. I looked up at him, a bitter smile on my lips. "Angelo, are you serious? You're leaving me here for her?"

Conflict raged in his eyes.

Guilt, desperation, and a bottomless well of indecision.

"Seraphina," he said, his voice low, "I will come back. I promise."

Marco's brow was furrowed with impatience. "What's the big deal? Just wait here while we get the money. Cassandra endured it. Why can't you?"

Cassandra had men who would die for her. I had only betrayal.

As the thugs grabbed my shoulders, I clung to Angelo's arm.

"Angelo! Are you really going to watch me be sacrificed again?!"

His whole body shuddered. He jerked his hand up, as if to push them away.

But Cassandra threw herself into his arms, prying my fingers from his sleeve.

"Angelo, I'm so scared! Those brutes nearly killed me! Let's go home, please, I can't stand another second in this place!"

At her cries, the last flicker of struggle in Angelo's eyes died.

He turned and held her trembling body.

"I know this isn't fair to you, but nothing can happen to Cassandra. She is the family's Principessa."

I burst out laughing. "So you sacrifice me? You'll just watch as they sell me off or dismember me?"

"You won't be harmed!" he said hastily, though I couldn't tell if he was reassuring me or himself. "The moment you're out, I'll let the whole world know you are my fiancée!"

The heavy iron door slammed shut, and the room fell silent.

The IOU on the table was swept to the floor, replaced by two glasses of whiskey.

The same thugs who had manhandled me moments ago dropped to one knee, their heads bowed.

The mask of misery fell from my face, replaced by a look of cold resolve.

"Proceed as planned," I commanded.

I pulled a document from my dress and tossed it on the table. It was a formal declaration, renouncing the Rinaldi name and all ties to the family.

Soon, the news would spread throughout the mafia world.

The man who had been posing as the casino owner peeled off his disguise. A knowing smile played on his lips as he raised his glass to me.

"I look forward to our partnership, my dear restorer."

The moment that door slammed shut, I was no longer a victim. I was an avenger. And I was here to take back what was mine.