Always Yours

Always Yours

elo1.2

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Chapter 1 Prologue

Present-day...

''Come on, baby, don't make that face,'' he says, raising his eyebrows and looking at me with a baby face sliding deeper. ''Princess, you can take six inches. Can you?'' I let out a single tear and closed my eyes shut. ''Ugh, you're so boring,'' he says, sighing in frustration. My whole body ached and I could feel it getting numb. He pulled the knife out of my stomach and tossed it across the room.

''You weren't supposed to pull it out,'' I say falling to my knees on the floor that was now covered in my blood, putting my hand to the wound and squeezing it tightly, hoping to slow the bleeding. He reaches for the table, filling himself with another glass of Scotch. I could feel my eyes getting heavy and everything started to get blurry.

''You know, we wouldn't be here if you had minded your goddamn business." ''I told you to mind your business and you didn't, so now I have to teach you a lesson but, we have some things we have to deal with first,'' Reid says taking a sip of his drink. Finally, I collect all my strengths and talk.

" Can you ple... please get me to the doctor first?" I say trying to keep my tears,'' It hurts so much. " He turns his head in frustration, takes the needle from the table, and comes closer to me.

"You can't fool me twice, you know baby," he says, a devilish smile forming on his face.

"No." ''No, please not this again. I will do whatever you want please not this again.'' but none of my pleas worked as I felt something sting my neck.

"I know you'd do anything for me, sweetie, but I'm going to need the strong one for this one," he says and after a couple of seconds I felt dizzy and everything went black.

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I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

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