

"I had spent my whole life living in the shadow of my sister, Juliana, the woman everyone in the mafia's heir circle adored and protected. She had no idea that I had been reborn. Just like in my previous life, she smiled sweetly and gently, insisting that I pick my fiancé first, pretending to be thoughtful and gracious. However, this time, I refused. In my previous life, I naïvely believed she meant well. I married the man she recommended, Chester Kane, an heir who was said to have been paralyzed after an ambush. I gave up my right to inherit the family, becoming his caretaker, his crutch, the medicine he used to fight loneliness. However, no matter how much warmth I gave him, his heart remained frozen. The truth only came out during my sister's pregnancy celebration. When an assassin from a rival family raised his gun toward her belly, the man who had not stood in years suddenly rose to his feet. He shoved me toward the muzzle of the gun. All seven bullets tore into my womb. As I collapsed, I saw him pull my sister into his arms, shielding her with his own body and taking the final shot for her. Only then did I understand. He had never been paralyzed. His family had never abandoned him. He pretended to be sick because Juliana's heart belonged to another man, and he refused to be tied to me. ""I'm sorry, Tania,"" he said. ""I lied to you. However, I couldn't let Juliana lose the heir she's carrying. I'll repay what I owe you in our next life."" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my father asked us to choose our marriage partners. This time, I chose no one. Yet back then, they were the ones who begged for my love."

Serena Moretti believed she had the perfect life.Once a waitress from the slums, she married Alessandro Moretti—the ruthless Mafia heir who supposedly traded his throne of blood and gold for her. Until she discovered the truth. While Serena poured everything into their marriage and years of failed IVF, Alessandro had been living a second life with his childhood friend Bianca Rizzo. Bianca had given him twin sons. Heartbroken and pregnant with Alessandro’s child, Serena refused to stay. With her only trusted friend Isabella, she staged a catastrophic avalanche that “destroyed” the luxury Alpine Scenic Train—and faked her own death in the snow.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

Everyone in southern Italy knew that Lorenzo Moretti loved me like a madman. And yet he had been keeping a much younger woman in Naples. They said she looked just like I had years ago. He told people she was only a reminder of the woman he had once loved most. He also gave strict orders that no one was to let me hear about her. Until the day I found out I was pregnant. I went to his office to tell him the news myself, only to stop outside the door when I heard a young woman’s voice from inside. “Lorenzo… am I only here because I remind you of her?” The door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, I saw a young woman who looked too much like me, wrapped in his jacket and holding his glass. I stood there, barely breathing. Then I heard him answer. “Don’t compare yourself to her.” “She could never be what you are.” I turned and walked away without making a sound. That night, I called my mother. “Mother, I’ve made up my mind.” She was silent for a moment. “I want a fire,” I said. “Something no one survives. By the time it’s over, Sophia Moretti needs to be dead to the world.”

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

The doctor told me I had 72 hours left, unless I got access to the newest experimental treatment. However, there was only one slot available, and my husband Bowen Liddell gave it to my sister Yvonne Lawson instead. "Her kidney failure is more critical," he said. I nodded and swallowed the white pills that would only speed up my death. In the time I had left, I got a lot done. The lawyer's hand trembled as he passed me the documents. "Are you sure you want to transfer the two billion dollars in shares?" I replied, "Yes. Give them to Yvonne." My daughter, Candice Liddell, was giggling in Yvonne's arms. "Mommy Yvonne bought me a new dress!" I said, "It looks beautiful. Make sure you always listen to Mommy Yvonne, okay?" The art gallery I built from the ground up now had Yvonne's name on the sign. "You're too kind, Kathy," she said, crying. I told her, "You'll run it even better than I ever did." I even signed all my parents' trust fund away. That was when Bowen finally gave me his first genuine smile in years. "Kathleen, you've changed. You're not so aggressive anymore... You're beautiful like this." Indeed. This dying version of me finally became the 'perfect Kathleen Sullivan' in their eyes—obedient, generous, and no longer argumentative. The 72-hour countdown had already begun, and I couldn't help but wonder what they would remember when my heart stopped for good. The good wife who 'finally learned to let go', or the woman who completed her revenge by dying?

"I loved Dante Rossi for twenty years. I gave up my medical career, my dreams, and my dignity for him. On the eve of our wedding, I discovered he had gotten another woman pregnant — his childhood companion, Isobel. So on what should have been the happiest day of my life, I canceled the wedding, burned every photo and letter, and disappeared without a trace, leaving only one sentence on our calendar: “Let’s break up, Dante.” Two years later, I returned as a successful medical researcher, engaged to a man who truly loves me. But Dante finally learned the truth — I was the one who took a bullet for him five years ago, not Isobel. Now the once-arrogant heir of the arms empire has lost everything. He kneels before me, regrets eating him alive, and begs for another chance. He even blocked a knife meant for me with his own body. But it’s too late."