I Chose the Don's Brother After Rebirth

"Tch."

I followed that small sound and turned my head toward Victor.

His hands were shoved in his pockets, his weight tipped back, an unreadable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Missed?" He shrugged. "Guess the first few were just luck."

Beside me, my father's brow tightened.

I lowered the gun. "Yeah," I said quietly. "Luck runs out eventually."

Victor raised an eyebrow and mimed a shooter's stance, his eyes glinting with a challenge he didn't bother to hide.

"Your form's stiff. Don't tense your shoulders. Bend your elbow a little more."

I bit down on a smile and nodded, keeping my face blank.

His shooting form was something I'd taught him. And now he was showing off in front of me.

In my previous life, the same. In this life, the same.

In front of others, he always had to look like the one on top.

But this time, I had no interest in tangling with him.

I looked him straight in the eye. "Noted."

This was a trial. The old Don had once joked that whoever won the shooting test would become Victor's wife. Hearing me concede so flatly, Victor froze.

Before he could speak, the old Don walked over and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"Claudia, I value your mind more than your aim."

"I hope you'll consider becoming part of my Family."

My father let out a long breath beside me.

The Medici Family was one of the Five Families, kings of the underworld.

Victor was the firstborn, the heir apparent, the next Don.

Half the Families in New York wanted in through marriage. After everything was weighed, the old Don had chosen me.

The Pacino Family deserved that honor.

But Victor had eyes only for Lillian Schiller.

The old Don's words just now had shut that door completely.

People crowded around me and my father, full of congratulations.

"Word's gotten around about Miss Pacino's shooting. Now I've seen it for myself."

"They say every territory the Pacino Family's won these past few years came out of Miss Pacino's head. Impressive."

The same scene as before.

Only last time, I'd been desperate to win. Ten shots, ten bullseyes. No one questioned the result.

This time, I'd missed on purpose and ended up in exactly the same place.

I glanced at Victor, who stood off to the side with that quiet smile, and pushed a hand through my hair.

"That last shot," I said evenly. "I'm not steady enough. I don't think I'm qualified to be Victor's wife."

A person can make a mistake, but not the same mistake twice.

I would never step into Victor's life a second time.