Four Deaths Later, Who Is She?

“Ladies of the Monroe family, Don Costello has requested that I deliver this to you.”

The Consigliere’s voice echoed through the living room as he gently placed a velvet box on the coffee table. I stared at the familiar box, my palms instantly slick with sweat.

He lifted the lid, revealing a diamond signet ring lying quietly on the black velvet. Engraved on its face was the Costello family crest—an eagle clutching a dagger in its talons. Under the afternoon sunlight, the diamond refracted a sharp, blinding glare.

“The Godfather says the woman he loves is among the four of you.” The Consigliere swept his gaze across us. “Whoever can wear this ring will be the future lady of the Costello family.”

Memories from my previous lives came crashing back like a tidal wave. All four of us froze. Each of us had married him once. So who was the woman the Godfather truly wanted?

What was worse was that every single one of us had met a brutal end after marrying into his family, from the icy river to the out-of-control car, the suffocating darkness of the basement, and the hunting knife gleaming under the moonlight. The thought alone made every one of us inhale sharply.

“There must be some mistake,” my stepmother, Catherine, said as she stood up, the fake smile on her face barely holding. “I don’t think anyone in our family is the Godfather’s beloved.”

The Consigliere frowned at our strange reactions and replied firmly, “There’s no mistake. Do you remember the charity gala at the Ritz-Carlton? After that event, the Godfather said his beloved was one of the Monroe women.”

He picked up the ring and held it out to us with meticulous precision.

“This signet ring will definitely fit one of you. Just try it on, and we’ll know.”

“My fingers are too thick,” Blair said immediately. The fake heiress—who wanted to marry into power more than anyone—shook her head rapidly and hid her hands behind her back.

My cousin, Chloe, who had secretly adored Dante for years, panicked and fled the room, insisting she didn’t even know the Godfather and couldn’t possibly be the one.

The secretary’s gaze shifted to Catherine. She waved her hands frantically. “I’ve been married twice, and I’m a widow now. I can’t be the one the Godfather loves.”

In the end, I was the only one who hadn’t spoken, so everyone turned to look at me.

The Consigliere’s eyes lit up with hope. “Miss Isabella, the Godfather has mentioned you before. That means you must be the one he loves.”

He smiled ingratiatingly. “This ring was surely made to fit your finger.”

Cold sweat soaked through my back.

In my last life, I had believed the same thing—that I was the woman Dante loved. After all, we had maintained a secret relationship. The ring had fit my ring finger perfectly, as though it had been crafted just for me. I thought it was destiny and that romance was written in fate.

After my father died, the Monroe family fell into rapid decline. The four of us tore each other apart over what little inheritance remained. In that life, I thought I had finally won. I believed I had defeated them all and married the most powerful mafia godfather alive. Yet, on our wedding night, Dante stormed into the room, his eyes blazing with madness.

“You’re not her!” he roared. “How dare you wear the ring and marry me!”

The hunting knife pierced my chest again and again until blood soaked through my white wedding dress. I died in unbearable pain, drowning in confusion and despair. If his beloved wasn’t me, then who was she?

And yet all four of us had died because we weren’t “her”.

“Miss Isabella?” The Consigliere’s voice pulled me back to the present.

I forced a stiff smile, but I didn’t dare take the ring.

Seeing the tension, the Consigliere tried to ease the atmosphere. “Marrying our Godfather grants supreme wealth and power. Of course, it’s not an easy role. You may take some time to consider.”

Then, his tone sharpened with the unmistakable pressure of the mafia.

“However, the Godfather is not a patient man.”

He stood up and said without looking back, “Don Costello will come personally tomorrow night. You have one night to decide who will wear this ring. The ring will stay here.”

With that, the door shut with a sharp click. I remained frozen, unable to recover fully from my daze.

In the silent living room, the four of us Monroe women stared at the signet ring on the coffee table, and no one dared to speak first.