All Chapters of The rebirth of the mafia queen : Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

I died in a gown that cost more than most houses.Red silk. Diamond choker. A single bullet through the heart. The Moretti ballroom was still playing violins when I hit the marble. Crystal shattered around me. My consigliere stood over me, gun smoking. My husband watched from three steps away and didn’t move. Guests screamed and ran. The chandeliers kept swaying.“You’re too soft to run this family, Caterina,” he said. “Queens don’t hesitate.”He was right. Last life, I hesitated. I believed in love. I believed in loyalty. I signed the merger with the Vales because I thought it would bring peace. Instead it brought a knife to my back and a war to my door. The blood was warm. The music was not. The last thing I saw was the red of my dress spreading across white stone.When I opened my eyes, the ceiling was different. White plaster, not gold leaf. The air smelled like jasmine and clean sheets, not gunpowder and perfume.I was 19. Same name. Caterina Moretti. Three years before

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 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."