Why Did The Vicario Brothers Warn Everyone In 'Crónica De Una Muerte Anunciada'?

I was supposed to be the pampered youngest daughter of the Falcone crime family. My fiancé was Lorenzo, the heir to the Caruso dynasty. I had three brothers who were the most feared men on the streets. But everything changed the moment my long-lost older sister returned. "Isabella was kidnapped by our enemies when she was three. She went through hell until the family found her at eighteen. Why can’t you just cut her some slack?" "Elena, if Isabella hadn't gone missing, the Don would never have had you just to fill the void. You owe her your life. What right do you have to compete with her?" Time and again, I stepped back into the shadows for my sister. But on the night before my wedding, Isabella called Lorenzo. "Lorenzo... I’m at the Old Port docks. There’s a strange car here and three men just got out... I’m so scared..." Lorenzo didn't even wait to hear the rest. He slammed on the brakes and kicked me out of the car in the middle of a torrential downpour. I clung to the door of that black Maybach, begging him. "Lorenzo, it’s the night before our wedding. This is rival turf." "Just this once, for the sake of the family’s reputation, can’t you choose me?" Lorenzo grabbed my wrists and shoved me away. "If anything happens to Isabella, I swear I’ll send you to hell myself!" But those "three men" Isabella mentioned? They were actually our three brothers, who were only there to watch the ocean and set off fireworks with her. That night, my three brothers and my fiancé were at the seaside, showering her with affection. And I died in an abandoned slaughterhouse on the edge of the city. This time, I finally gave way to my sister completely. But tell me—when you saw my corpse, why were you all crying?

My sister Sofia and I married into the Moretti family, New York's most feared dynasty, and got pregnant less than a month apart. I married Dante Moretti, the eldest son and youngest trauma surgery chief St. Vincent's had ever appointed. Sofia married his younger brother Luca, a Major Crimes detective with a badge and a Moretti army at his back. One carried a scalpel. The other carried a gun. Behind them stood a family that owned docks, unions, private clubs, and half the secrets in Manhattan. Everyone said we'd won a life women would kill for. On my first anniversary, I left a maternity clinic with our daughter's fetal heart scans. Sofia hopped out at a bakery for a cinnamon-apple tart. That craving saved her life. The black Cadillac carrying me cut through an intersection and drove straight into an armored truck. Metal folded around me. Glass filled my mouth. Beneath the screaming brakes, I felt my baby stop moving. I called Dante with a bloodied hand. He rejected me three times before answering the fourth. "Enough with the loyalty tests, Elena. Valentina's old gunshot wound triggered an arrhythmia, and I'm treating her. You and Sofia don't get to invent emergencies every time we help her." Sofia called Luca in tears. He was at Valentina's townhouse investigating a triggered alarm. "A false report leaves a record," he said. "Stop helping your sister put on a show." In the end, my eight-month-pregnant sister smashed open the warped car door and dragged me through broken glass and leaking gasoline. She commandeered a hotel SUV and drove me to the ER herself. I survived. She went into premature labor and lost her son the same night I lost my daughter. After surgery, we lay in neighboring beds while dawn bled through the windows. "Elena," Sofia whispered, "I'm done with my marriage." I reached across and took her ice-cold hand. "So am I."

A chain of Events causes a drift in the Gustavo Family that leads to the death of their mother and the exile of Diego the eldest son. The tragedy leaves the family in shambles but they manage to survive, rebuild and climb up the ladder in the criminal underworld. Six years later and the eldest son who has been living in New York decides it is time to return home and face the responsibilities he ran away from head on, it is time for everybody to know the truth for he harbors a great secret that very few know; a girl that should be dead. Irene is the love of Diego’s life and the object of Alejandro’s desires but due to an accident that leaves her for dead and causes her to lose her memory she doesn’t remember either of them. Diego in order to keep her safe must keep his distance from the woman he loves , watching and protecting her from the shadows waiting patiently for the day she remembers who he is and hoping that when she eventually does he has not become too much of a monster for her to recognize him. This decision to return begins a war between him and his twin brother Alejandro who hates and blames him for the events that led to the death of their mother. Alejandro fears that the return of his brother will threaten his place of succession to their family’s business and thus a power struggle begins between two brothers who once loved each other but now consider themselves as mortal enemies. A war for money, status and most importantly for love.

My family has always considered me a harbinger of misfortune. It's all because I can see a countdown to my relatives' deaths. I tell them when my grandfather, father, and mother will die. It all comes true due to various accidents. My three brothers hate me to the core because they think I cursed my parents and grandfather. My mother actually dies after giving birth to my younger sister, but my brothers dote on her to no end. They say she's their lucky star because everything goes well for the family after she's born. But didn't Mom die while giving birth to her? On my 18th birthday, I see my death countdown when I look at myself in the mirror. I buy an urn I like and prepare a meal. I want to have one last meal with my brothers, but none of them show up even when the timer hits zero…

Within hours of my birth, three dogs in our neighborhood died. My parents became convinced it was some kind of omen. They went to a self-proclaimed psychic, who told them I had been born to suffer in my younger brother's place. From that day on, every time something went wrong in my life, they treated it as proof that I was protecting him. Years later, on my birthday, I came down with a fever of 106 degrees. I could barely keep my eyes open. Mom still hauled me out of bed and dragged me into the bathroom. "Get up! Your brother has an important exam tomorrow, and you need to pray that nothing goes wrong." She turned on the shower and shoved me under the freezing water. My whole body started shaking. "Mom, please… I'm so cold." "Then stop being so weak." She looked at me with open disgust. "Your brother is going to make something of himself. You're the one who's supposed to suffer in his place. If you can't even handle a fever, what good are you? I should've let you die the day you were born!"

After my younger brother died, my parents and grandfather all killed themselves. Each of them died in a different way, but they shared one thing in common: Before their deaths, every one of them had read my brother's suicide note. And in that note, there was only a single sentence. Reporters fought for a chance to interview me. The police interrogated me overnight. Countless people wanted to know what that sentence said. But I never told anyone. Until the tenth anniversary of my brother's death, when I saw a figure standing in front of his grave. At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of excitement. Because I knew my turn had finally come.