All Chapters of Dead Women Don't Come Back: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

On the third day of my hospital stay, I stared blankly at the gray-white ceiling.My belly, once round and full, was flat again. The daughter I had waited six months for would never come.It turned out that heartbreak, when it became far too heavy to bear, felt like suffocation.As warm tears slid from the corners of my eyes and soaked into my hair, I turned my head and looked at the pregnant woman in the bed next to mine.She looked so happy.Her family had been by her side the entire time, from the moment she was admitted to the moment she gave birth.However, in the three days I had been hospitalized, my husband and son had only visited once, and they left almost immediately after.They had somewhere more important to be: Martina Pelosi's opening night performance.My phone buzzed with a message from Martina along with a video. The video was filmed inside an upscale restaurant near the theater.Martina still had her stage makeup on, sitting at the table looking radiant. Rig

I came from an ordinary background, but the Bertelli family never held that against me, at least not openly.The family, which controlled a vast underground empire, had its own rules and its own way of surviving.I worked part-time to put myself through college, and one of those jobs was with the Bertelli family. I was mainly looking after Roberto's ailing grandfather, Enzo Bertelli, the former Don.On the surface, Enzo was a respected antiques collector and archaeologist. However, beneath that, he had used the antique trade to build the family's first intelligence network, which included smuggling, underground auctions, and all manner of operations running beneath it.Since he had studied antiquities and my major was in the same field, we always had endless conversations. He appreciated my sharp eye and patience when it came to historical relics.Back then, Roberto had just taken over part of the family's operations and was under enormous pressure. He had a habit of letting off s

I never boarded the plane. At the last moment before the security checkpoint, my supervisor, Ian Alfonsi, called.He informed me that the Mojave Project was put on hold and replaced by a new excavation site: a recently discovered tomb near Luksor, Aigypt, uncovered by an international archaeological team.I held my phone and looked toward the departure gate. I could not help but feel like it was a sign to completely cut ties with my past.I used my new work visa to book a flight to Keiro under the name 'Bianca Rodriguez'. In the airport bathroom, I flushed my old SIM card down the toilet, dropped my phone in the trash, and walked away without looking back.I moved so decisively that I surprised even myself.The archaeological camp south of Keiro felt like an isolated island in a sea of sand, and my assignment was to restore a painted wooden coffin.Nobody there knew who I was. I was just 'Bianca', a quiet yet capable conservator.Luca Galante was the heart of the team. The first

Roberto began his clumsy, almost laughable attempt at 'winning me back'.At dawn, when I pulled open the flap of my tent, a bouquet of desert roses lay outside. I picked them up without expression and handed them to a passing local worker.I said, "Give them to your wife. She likes flowers."The next night, close to midnight, an off-key voice shattered the quiet.Roberto stood under the moonlight, holding a crumpled piece of paper and stumbling through what I could only assume was supposed to be a love song.I picked up my washbasin and poured it out the window.On the third day, he outdid himself by trying to bake a dessert from scratch. Years ago, I had casually mentioned liking it.However, I never tasted a single bite, because sparks from his makeshift oven caught the edge of a tent and burned a corner.While Luca's men rushed to put out the fire, Roberto stood in the smoke with flour and cocoa smeared across his face like a guilty schoolboy.I should have felt amused, but