My Brothers' Regret After My Death

I gripped the edge of the bulletproof window, my knuckles turning white from the strain as the icy rain lashed against my face.

Lorenzo looked at me like I was a stranger—an inconvenience. He peeled my fingers off the glass, one by one.

"Elena! Dammit, she’s your sister. Can you stop being so cold-hearted?"

"Isabella lived in the slums for years; she can't handle fear like this. If she gets hurt because I didn't go to her, I’ll never forgive myself."

My sister’s name is Isabella. We are the daughters of the most powerful Mafia family in the city.

And I was nothing more than her shadow.

With one final shove, my fingers slipped from the frame.

The heavy car door slammed shut with a sickening thud, cutting off the warmth of the heater and my last shred of hope.

The black sedan roared away, splashing me with mud as it disappeared into the storm.

Right then, my phone rang. It was my eldest brother, Luca.

"Elena, did you try to stop Lorenzo from coming?"

"How can you be so selfish? You’ve enjoyed the life of a Mafia princess for over a decade—a life you stole from her! Why do you always have to fight Isabella for everything?"

Before my brother could finish his lecture, I interrupted him, my voice hoarse.

"Lorenzo is already on his way."

He hung up without a second thought, leaving me with nothing but a dial tone.

I wiped the rain and tears from my face.

Just as I turned to leave this dangerous neighborhood, an unmarked white van suddenly flooded the street with high beams. Like a wild beast breaking its cage, it drove straight into me.

The impact sent me flying.

Beneath me, warm blood quickly pooled, mixing with the cold rainwater.

With trembling hands, I used the last of my strength to call Lorenzo.

"Lorenzo... I’ve been hit by a car... right where you dropped me off... I think it’s the Russians..."

Lorenzo’s impatient voice crackled through the speaker, accompanied by the sound of the ocean breeze. It was a death sentence.

"Elena! Why do you keep forcing me to choose? With a lie this pathetic?"

"Do you have any idea how much you look like a sickening clown right now, desperate for attention?"

The call went dead. When I tried to redial, his phone was already turned off.

Through my blurred vision, I saw several tattooed men jump out of the van. I recognized the ink—stars on the knees. They were Bratva. The rival Ivanov family.

As the Don’s daughter, I knew exactly what that meant.

I tried to crawl away, but my broken legs felt nothing.

The leader walked up to me, knelt down, and grabbed a handful of my soaked hair, yanking my head back.

"That bitch didn't lie to us. It really is the little Falcone girl."

"Enough talk. Bag her."

I was shoved brutally into the fishy-smelling van. After a bumpy ride, I was dragged into an abandoned slaughterhouse on the outskirts of town.

When I was thrown onto the dusty concrete floor, I felt more of my ribs snap.

I clutched my phone tight.

"Listen, I’m a Falcone. I have money. My family runs the West Side."

"Let me call them. They’ll pay whatever ransom you want. I’m the Don’s daughter, please."

The leader lit a cigarette and laughed, smoke curling over his yellow teeth.

"We grabbed you because you’re a Falcone. Go ahead, make the call."

"Our employer said to let you use the phone. That way, you’ll die knowing the truth—that nobody is coming to save you."

My hands, slick with blood, shook as I dialed my second brother, Matteo. He was the family’s Consigliere, the calm one. The rational one.

"Matteo, I’ve been kidnapped. I’m at the slaughterhouse in the outskirts. Bring men, hurry, I’m at—"

Matteo’s voice was thick with suppressed rage. I could hear the waves crashing in the background.

"Elena! You know damn well we’re out here helping Isabella clear her head. Is it really that fun to stage a scene like this right now?"

Just then, I heard Isabella’s soft, fragile voice in the background.

"Forget it, Lorenzo, brothers... you should go back. Tomorrow is Elena’s wedding. I shouldn't have been so selfish, asking you to watch the fireworks with me."

Then came Lorenzo’s voice, so tender it shattered what was left of my heart—a world away from the coldness he showed me on the street.

"It’s not your fault. Elena is just being immature."

Isabella’s voice instantly turned cheerful.

"I knew it. Lorenzo and my brothers love me the most..."

Beep— Beep—

The call was cut off mercilessly. My world collapsed with it.

Seeing my hollow, hopeless expression, the Russian leader’s face twisted into a grin as he crushed his cigarette butt under his boot.

"See that, Miss Falcone? In this city, nobody gives a damn about you."

The men approached me, knives glinting in the dim light.

I struggled desperately, my fingernails digging into the concrete until they bled.

In that filthy slaughterhouse, my screams and pleas were met only with their frantic laughter.

The honor of the Falcone family meant nothing on this rainy night.

The world was too cold.

In the next life, I don't want to be anyone's sister. And I don't want to be anyone's wife.