Twin in the Coffin
I knew my husband, Giovanni Rossini, had done it. He had stolen his dead twin brother's identity and faked his own death.
And I said nothing.
In my last life, he had discarded me and our daughter, Natalia, for his mistress, Katrina Moretti.
My mother-in-law, Antonietta, called us trash and forced my five-year-old to peel olives until her small hands blistered. I knelt and begged for money to buy medicine.
Giovanni only held Katrina and laughed. In the end, Natalia and I froze and starved to death. Even as we died, Katrina's mocking voice still rang in my ears.
Everyone watched with cold eyes. They closed ranks, shifted the blame onto me, and shoved us toward a dead end with no escape.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the exact moment they carried Marco's body into the warehouse.
This time, I wouldn't let anyone destroy us. I would make them pay twice over for everything they had done to me and my daughter.