ログイン*Synopsis: The Rebirth of the Mafia Queen* Caterina Moretti died at 22 in a red silk gown, betrayed by her husband, her consigliere, and the alliance she trusted. She was shot in her own family’s ballroom, a casualty of a war she was too soft to win. She wakes up at 19. Three years before her marriage to Luca Vale. Three years before her death. Same name, same family, different rules. This time, Caterina remembers everything. Refusing the Vale engagement, she moves first. She burns the evidence that would have been used against her, allies with the Russian Bratva for control of the Naples port, and puts her own people in place. Her decisive, ruthless moves shock the Moretti family and ignite a war with the Vales. In the chaos, Matteo Russo appears. Son of a rival family, he should be her enemy. But he remembers her death too. He was two days too late to save her last time. In this life, he isn’t. He becomes her shadow, her shield, and eventually the one person she lets close. To secure peace, Matteo enters a paper marriage with Anya Orlova, cousin to the Bratva leader, while forming a fragile, loyal triangle with Caterina. Over months of blood, betrayal, and strategy, Caterina dismantles the Vales piece by piece. She exposes traitors in her own house, survives assassination attempts, and takes control of the city’s ports, money, and power. When her father steps down, she claims the title of Don. No longer the girl who waited to be chosen, Caterina rules with precision. She builds a new kind of family with Matteo and Anya at her side. This is the story of a woman who died once, came back, and decided she would never die waiting again.
もっと見るThe day after you kill someone, the world expects you to feel something. Guilt. Relief. Fear. I felt hunger. "Breakfast," I told Sal at 8am. "And coffee. Black." "Yes, boss." He didn’t correct me when I said _boss_. No one did anymore. My father was in meetings all day. Absorbing Vale territory. Signing papers. Shaking hands with men who hated us last week. He called once. "Don’t leave the villa." I hung up and left the villa. Because ghosts don’t wait for permission. ---*Wednesday. 11am. The city.* The Morettis owned Rome now. Officially. Unofficially, we owned the fear. I drove myself. No driver. No escort. Just Matteo in the passenger seat and a gun under my leg. "You’re not supposed to be out," he said. "You’re here, aren’t you?" He didn’t argue. First stop: The port. Vale ships. Vale crates. Vale money. Now Moretti. The dock boss, Franco, met us. Sweating. "Signorina Moretti. We weren’t expecting—" "I’m not here for expectations."
The first thing you learn in a war is who dies first. It’s never the boss. It’s never the heir. It’s the drivers. The waiters. The girls who answer the phones. By Sunday morning, three more Moretti men were dead. A barber who cut my father’s hair. A secretary who filed the port papers. A kid, 17, who delivered groceries to the safehouse. Luca Vale was sending a message. _I can reach anyone._ My father’s answer was simple. "We burn the Vale house down."---*Monday. 4am.*The Vale villa sat on a hill outside Rome. White stone. Iron gates. Twelve guards. It was where Luca grew up. Where he and I were supposed to get married in my last life. I was in the lead car. Black dress under a tactical vest. Hair in a braid. Two guns. One knife. Matteo was driving. "You sure about this?" he asked. "No," I said. "That’s why we’re doing it."We had 20 men. Viktor gave us 8 Russians. My father gave me the rest. "Make it hurt," he said before I left. "But come home."
Three days. That’s all it took for the port deal to turn from paper to war. Tuesday came in with rain and left with sirens. Viktor’s men hit the Vale shipment at 2:02am. No witnesses. Just empty containers, missing crates, and two Vale captains found in the water with their throats open. The police called it “gang violence.” My father called it “progress.” By Wednesday morning, the Vales knew exactly who to blame. They came at 9am. Ten black cars. No knock. They drove through the Moretti gates like they owned them. Luca Vale was in the lead car. Gray suit. Gold watch. The same smile he wore in our engagement photo. The same hands that held the gun in my last life. He walked into our dining room with six men and a black box. Set it on the table in front of my father. "Morning, Antonio." Luca’s voice was smooth. "We need to talk about the port."My father didn’t stand. "Talk."Luca opened the box. Inside: my bloody handkerchief from the docks. The one I used to wra
The Moretti dining room smelled like lemon polish and gun oil. Long table. Dark wood. No windows. Just one door and three men who had killed for it. My father sat at the head. Don Antonio Moretti. Espresso in one hand, the morning paper in the other. The headline was the same one from my nightstand. _“Moretti Heiress to Wed Vale Son in Merger of Century.”_ To his right: Sal and Marco. Captains. Both older than me. Both men who called me "the girl" when they thought I wasn’t listening. The chair to my father’s left was empty. The one Luca Vale should have sat in last night. "Caterina." My father didn’t look up. "Sit."I did. Black dress. Hair pulled back tight. No jewelry. In my last life I wore white to these meetings. To look soft. To look like a bride. "We’re taking the port," he said, turning the page. "Your idea. Your contact. Viktor Orlov. Midnight. You run it.""Me?" "You said you had a plan. So you run it." He finally met my eyes. Green like mine. Cold like mine






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