Left for Dead, My Brother Said It Was My Fault

Bella’s POV

I called my brother after I was taken and tortured for days by my family’s rivalry gang. The call was my last chance to hear his voice.

But all he told me was to leave him alone.

“I don’t care what you’ve done this time,” he said coldly. “Now is not the moment to call me. Fix your mess, until then, don’t call me.”

And with that, Matteo hung up.

I stared at the phone as the line went dead and slowly closed my eyes, feeling my heartbeat slowed down.

When I opened them again, I wasn’t surrounded by darkness like I’d imagined death would be.

I was floating.

I watched my body lying broken on the floor below me as I drifted upward, pulled by something I couldn’t fight. An invisible force carried me away, faster and faster, until I was back at my family’s casino.

Just in time to see the gang that killed me dump my unrecognizable body at the back entrance.

No. They couldn’t do that.

Leaving my body here would bring trouble to my family—to my brother.

But I was dead. All I could do was watch.

I felt sad and guilty. Even after dying, I was still causing brother and the DeLuca problems.

…

The next morning, Matteo arrived early. He spotted the body and immediately ordered the casino shut down for the day.

I watched as he searched the torn clothes for identification. He didn’t recognize me.

It wasn’t his fault.

The Moretti had tortured me beyond recognition before deciding to end it quickly.

“Don,” Lorenzo said quietly, crouching beside him, “the guards didn’t see who dumped the body last night. But several gangs passed by the casino. It could’ve been any of them.”

“Those sneaky bastards,” Matteo swore. “If I find out who did this, I’ll send them straight to hell.”

“What should we do now?” Lorenzo asked. “We can’t just hide the body. If the police find out there’s another corpse tied to the casino, they’ll shut us down—and drag you in for questioning.”

Matteo straightened, his expression dark. “What matters most is who she was. Do you know anyone who could identify her?”

Lorenzo shook his head. “I’ve asked around. The damage is too severe. Forensics is the only option—but that could take a week.”

Matteo said nothing.

Lorenzo took another careful look at my body before standing. “Whoever did this didn’t want this woman to be recognized. Look—they didn’t mean to kill her at first. See the bruises around her neck? The broken wrist and ankle? This was torture.”

My chest tightened.

“I think she might’ve worked for us,” he continued. “Maybe one of our rivalry gang were trying to force information out of her. When things got out of hand, they killed her and dumped her back here.”

He was right.

They tortured me for hours, trying to make me talk about my brother. About my family.

When I refused, they broke my wrists. My ankles.

After a moment, Matteo spoke. “Move the body to the basement. Bring in someone discreet to examine her. Until we know who she is, this stays quiet.”

Lorenzo nodded and reached for his phone—then froze.

“Shit,” he said. “Don, I forgot to tell you. Bella went to meet the Moretti about the last contract. I haven’t heard from her since.”

A pause.

“Should we check on her?” Lorenzo asked. “We don’t have a history with the Moretti—but losing contact with Bella doesn’t sit right with me.”

The moment my name was mentioned, Matteo snapped.

“She’s been spoiled for years,” he barked. “People like you are the reason she can’t even handle one contract properly. She screwed it up, then tried to blame Victoria. I don’t care if it takes days or weeks—she made the mess, she fixes it.”

I wanted to scream.

I hadn’t messed up the contract. Victoria had. She switched the numbers and pinned it on me.

I only learned the truth in the Moretti basement.

Before that, I’d believed it was my fault too—until they mocked me, laughing about how easy it had been.

“She really is as stupid as Victoria said,” The Moretti mocked me. “All we had to do was say it was her mistake. She came running to us, trying to make it right.”

I circled my brother, desperate to make him hear me.

Nothing changed.

I forgot—I was dead. Nothing I said or did could reach him.

“Don,” Lorenzo said carefully, “I know you won’t like me saying this, but Bella is your sister. Don’t you think you’re being a little too harsh—”

Matteo spun on him, fist clenched. “I regret not being harsher,” he said coldly. “Maybe then our parents would still be alive.”

The words hit harder than any blow.

Five years ago, when I had just turned eighteen, I begged my parents to take me on their routine trip to Mexico.

No one expected the meeting to fall apart so fast—until both families were caught in the crossfire.

Father and his right-hand man, Marco, died protecting Mother and me. Mother died shielding me from what those men wanted to do.

After that, Matteo hated me.

So did Victoria—Marco’s daughter.

They blamed me for everything—for my parents’ deaths, for her father’s too.

They said that if my parents hadn’t been so focused on protecting me, they could’ve escaped in time. That innocent people—like Marco—wouldn’t have died trying to save them.

And I let them condemn me.

Because some part of me believed I deserved it.

What I hadn’t expected was how close Matteo and Victoria would become—how Matteo would start treating Victoria like his real sister, while I became nothing more than a spoiled burden. Just a reminder and a killer.

Hearing Matteo mention about our parents now made the same pain tear through my chest.

I had thought death would numb everything. I was wrong.

If anything, it hurt more.