Chapter 3

Sofia wasn't my real sister.

In my previous life, less than a week after my Mama, Ottavia Vivaldi, was laid to rest, Papa brought his mistress, Bianca Malaspina, home. And, trailing behind her, was a girl about my age.

She was none other than Sofia.

Papa said he would treat us both fairly. But as the family business grew, the dividends Sofia received each quarter were enough to buy an entire arms-smuggling route. In contrast, I couldn't even buy myself a bottle of painkillers without filling out forms and waiting for finance to sign off.

Dante and Luca's parents died taking bullets for Papa in a shootout. Out of loyalty to the past, Papa brought the two brothers home, saying they would be raised separately to serve as trusted right-hand men for Sofia and me.

But from start to finish, both of them only ever had eyes for Sofia.

Thus, I decided not to rely on anyone anymore in this life. If I wanted to rewrite my fate, I'd have to take a seat at the table myself.

Having no interest in me, Uncle Vittorio threw me into a junior role at one of the family's investment firms and didn't even bother to give me a real desk.

I didn't kick up a fuss. Instead, I just kept my head down and worked hard.

In my previous life, I'd spent seven years in the venture capital circles of Mayview Street. Thus, I knew better than any analyst which funds were about to implode, which sectors were about to take off, and which companies had landmines buried in their financial reports.

Within three months, I had precisely executed two deals that no one else dared to touch and secured a merger agreement worth 100 billion dollars for the family.

For the first time, Uncle Vittorio invited me to dinner on his own initiative and brought me to a closed-door evening banquet reserved for only the inner circle.

When he introduced me to the family heads sitting around the table, this was what he said. "This is my brother Ettore's eldest daughter, Isabella."

Word traveled fast.

Within two weeks, the mafia circles were all talking about how the Moretti family's wheelchair-bound firstborn was ten times more capable than her spendthrift younger sister.

On the first night I returned to the family estate, before I could even make it to my room, Sofia cornered me at the end of the hallway.

Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, she said nonchalantly, "Isabella, you've been making quite a splash lately."

I didn't stop wheeling, so she stepped forward and blocked my path.

"You're already crippled, so stop running around making trouble. You should just find someone to marry and seal a decent marriage alliance for the family. That would be the least you could do to repay Papa for raising you all these years."

I looked up at her. "Sofia, are you afraid I'm going to take your place?"

Her expression changed for a moment. But just as quickly, she smiled and said, "You're overthinking it. I'm just looking out for you."

"Looking out for me?" I locked eyes with her and said emphatically, "Back when the black sedan came barreling toward you at the docks, I was the one who yanked you behind me."

Her smile froze.

"But then the second truck came, you shoved me forward."

For three seconds, silence hung in the hallway.

Sofia's eyes reddened instantly, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"Isabella, I was only six years old back then. Not to mention, I was terrified. I didn't mean to shove you. How could you think that of me? I'm not that evil."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked so pitiful and heartbreaking.

Dante had somehow already appeared behind her. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and wrapped her in his coat.

Luca rushed over too, standing beside Dante. He pointed at me and said in a voice tight with anger, "Isabella, you've gone too far. Apologize to Principessa Sofia right now!"

I took hold of his index finger and forcefully snapped it outward. His joint let out a sharp, clean crack.

Luca let out a muffled grunt, his knees nearly buckling.

I released my grip and turned to Sofia. "I'm telling you, Sofia—you'd better keep your lapdogs under control and teach them some manners."

Dante's head snapped up, a flash of menace in his eyes. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and something glinted under the hallway lights as he pulled it out.

It was a ruby ring.

My blood instantly ran cold.

Mamma had put that ring on my finger just before she died. It was the only thing she ever left me.

Later, Sofia set her sights on it. And one day, it disappeared from my jewelry box.

"Apologize to Principessa Sofia," Dante said, holding the ring high above his head as he towered above me. "Apologize, and I'll give the ring back to you. Otherwise, I'll smash it to pieces right now."

His thumb and forefinger clamped down on either side of the ring, squeezing it with just enough force to make the metal let out a faint, creaking whine.

My hands lost all control, seizing the armrests and wrenching the wheelchair forward. It jolted half a step, but the ring remained just out of reach.

Dante raised the ring even higher, a cold smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'll count to three. Three, two…"

I was shaking all over, my nails biting into my palms until blood began to seep out.

"One."

"I'm sorry."

I forced those words out, as if I were tearing them out of my throat.

Dante smirked in satisfaction and dropped the ring.

Luca quickly caught it and hurried over to me. His eyes darted away as he handed the ring over.

Without looking at him, I took the ring and clenched it in my palm. Then, I turned my wheelchair around and left without so much as a backward glance.

After turning the corner at the end of the hallway, I pulled the encrypted phone from the side pocket of my wheelchair and dialed a number.

The call connected immediately.

"The game is over," I said. After a brief pause, I added, "And come get me. I've decided to marry you."