Reborn for Escaping From the Mafia Family

In my previous life, I gave my crush one of my corneas and helped him to restore his right to inherit his mafia family. But when he regained his sight, my family chose to have my older sister marry him instead of me. My own family exiled me, and I died on the night of wedding between him and my sister.Then I'm reborn—back before I was exiled .I stood in my father's study—Vittorio Rossi, the Don of our family. The air smelled of aged whiskey and cigars. Vittorio sat behind his massive mahogany desk, an unlit Cuban cigar between his fingers. His eyes were cold, hard as steel—nothing like a father's should be."Lena, Elena's engagement to Vincenzo Corleone is next week," Vittorio's voice echoed in the large study, devoid of warmth. "This is an alliance between two families. I won't tolerate any disruptions. It would be best if you stayed away."My mother, Isabella Rossi, stood beside the desk, nervously twisting a silk scarf. "Darling, your father has everything arranged. Tomorrow mor

The next day, they took me out of the dungeon. They gave me clean clothes, but my wounds still ached.Back in my room, I gathered everything that reminded me of Vincenzo.My childhood diaries and love letters, secret photos of him, gifts I had saved for him, surprises I planned to give him... I had intended to tell him my story when we were finally together.But now I knew there was no future for us. These things were worthless.I stuffed everything into a black trash bag and walked to the incinerator outside the villa, watching the flames consume them one by one.As I turned to leave, I walked right into Vincenzo, who had just returned with Elena.Elena deliberately showed off the diamond bracelet on her wrist—the one Vincenzo had traded control of three weapons docks for. It was known as the "symbol of the Corleone Madre."Vincenzo glanced at the trash can, then looked at me. His gaze was as cold as ever.Elena saw the items and forced a smile. "Lena, did you destroy all of that? Doe

After tending to my wounds, I somehow made it to the hospital where I fell into a deep coma.When I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital bed. A nurse was changing my IV bottle. She sighed softly when she saw I was awake."You've been unconscious for three days. The concussion from the explosion combined with blood loss... the doctor says you need rest."I tried to move, but every wound protested. The nurse pressed my shoulder down. "Don't move. The whip marks on your back have reopened."The door opened and Elena walked in. She wore a silk robe and looked concerned, but her eyes gleamed with triumph."I heard you woke up, so I came to see you," she said, sitting beside the bed. "Such a terrible accident, wasn't it? Thankfully, Vincenzo saved me in time."I didn't respond. She continued in her sweet but sharp voice: "Father has signed the papers, transferring all the family’s downtown shop rights to my name. After all, I'm marrying Vincenzo now—our families are merging, and I need to

Vincenzo stared at Elena coldly, saying nothing.It was only then that Elena realized she might have said the wrong thing.She immediately put on a pitiful expression, trying to salvage the situation. "Vincenzo, I didn't mean to forget the details of those stories. You know how busy wedding preparations have been. My head is spinning."She reached out and grabbed his sleeve, shaking it lightly in her most practiced coquettish tone. "Don't be mad, okay? After we're married, you can tell me all those stories again. I promise I'll remember them this time."Vincenzo stared at the face before him, so close yet so utterly false. A wave of nausea washed over him."Elena Rossi!" he suddenly tore his hand away, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. "You're still lying to me?!"He took a step closer, his gaze burning into her. "You're not the one who was with me in that safe house! That girl wasn't you!"Elena's face turned deathly pale. She tried to explain. "Vincenzo, let me explain—""Ex

The moment I stepped onto Sydney soil, the air was thick with the salty scent of the ocean and the dry heat of the sun.The openness here was a stark contrast to the oppressive weight of New York's skyscrapers. I wasn't afraid. In fact, I felt a sense of expectation for this new life.I pulled my luggage to the curb and checked the address the intermediary agent had sent.It wasn't too far, but dragging large suitcases on public transport would be impractical. I used my phone to call a cab.The car arrived quickly. The driver was a solidly built man with a fierce face and his arms covered in a mix of faded and new, complex tattoos. He got out in silence and stowed my bags in the trunk.He must have sensed my tension. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror and asked in a gruff, accented voice, "Tourist? American?""From New York," I replied, offering no further explanation.He grunted in response and didn't press the issue, focusing on driving. After a while, he spoke again, his tone m