Blurb：
In this gripping mafia time travel revenge story, Isabella Moretti is given a second chance after being betrayed and murdered by her own brother, Leo Moretti, the heir to the powerful Moretti crime family. Fueled by vengeance, Isabella uses her knowledge of the future to prevent the tragic death of her mother, Sofia Moretti, and outmaneuver the ruthless Volkov rivals. Uncover a web of lies spun by Scarlett, whose obsession with Las Vegas high-roller tables sets off a chain of events leading to bloodshed and betrayal. Will Isabella’s foresight be enough to secure her position as Consigliere and expose the true traitors? Dive into a world of family loyalty, mafia politics, and a fierce battle for power where every choice could mean life or death.
Content：
In my last life, my brother Leo—the heir to the Moretti crime family—stripped our estate bare of every last soldier, all for a Vegas jaunt.
All because his new flame, Scarlett, had a jones for the high-roller tables.
The Volkovs—our rivals, the very ones Leo had just pissed off—saw their opening and stormed our gates. My mother, Sofia, took a bullet meant for me. Died protecting me.
I blew up Leo’s phone, my pleas turning to screams. He didn’t answer.
He waltzed back in after the shooting stopped, bringing our men home, but far too late for it to matter.
Then, the news from Vegas. Scarlett was gone.
A suicide note left behind. In it, she painted me as the monster.
The one who’d leaked our weaknesses to the Volkovs.
The one who’d orchestrated a fake kidnapping and torture plot, all to drive her to despair and lure Leo home. A perfect, tragic lie.
Leo read the letter calmly. Then he burned the letter and told me, “Forget it. It’s handled.”
Father tore into Leo for abandoning his post, for leaving his family to die. And me? I was named the new Consigliere.
But after the celebration, Leo cornered me in the wine cellar.
His face was a mask of cold fury as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead.
“This is for family traitors,” he hissed, his voice pure venom.
“The throne is my birthright, not some backstabbing bitch’s prize!”
When I opened my eyes again, I was back.
Right in the middle of the fire and the blood.
This time, I shoved my mother behind me, dragging her toward the panic room.
And the bastards who were too blind to believe me? They’ll regret it.
Chapter 1
In my last life, my brother Leo—the heir to the Moretti crime family—stripped our estate bare of every last soldier, all for a Vegas jaunt.
All because his new flame, Scarlett, had a jones for the high-roller tables.
The Volkovs—our rivals, the very ones Leo had just pissed off—saw their opening and stormed our gates. My mother, Sofia, took a bullet meant for me. Died protecting me.
I blew up Leo’s phone, my pleas turning to screams. He didn’t answer.
He waltzed back in after the shooting stopped, bringing our men home, but far too late for it to matter.
Then, the news from Vegas. Scarlett was gone.
A suicide note left behind. In it, she painted me as the monster.
The one who’d leaked our weaknesses to the Volkovs.
The one who’d orchestrated a fake kidnapping and torture plot, all to drive her to despair and lure Leo home. A perfect, tragic lie.
Leo read the letter calmly. Then he burned the letter and told me, “Forget it. It’s handled.”
Father tore into Leo for abandoning his post, for leaving his family to die. And me? I was named the new Consigliere.
But after the celebration, Leo cornered me in the wine cellar.
His face was a mask of cold fury as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead.
“This is for family traitors,” he hissed, his voice pure venom.
“The throne is my birthright, not some backstabbing bitch’s prize!”
When I opened my eyes again, I was back.
Right in the middle of the fire and the blood.
This time, I shoved my mother behind me, dragging her toward the panic room.
And the bastards who were too blind to believe me? They’ll regret it.
…
The explosion was deafening.
My eyes snapped open, a cold dread washing over me.
No. This can’t be happening.
I was dead. My brother Leo’s bullet had gone right through my forehead…
“Isabella! Get up! Now!” My mother Sofia’s voice, laced with a panic I remembered all too well, echoed from the hall.
I scrambled out of bed, my legs shaking.
A second blast rocked the estate, the windows rattling in their frames.
I was back.
Back on that goddamn night.
“Ma!” I burst out of my room and grabbed her wrist. “We have to get to the panic room! Now!”
“What madness are you talking about?” My mother, elegant even in a silk nightgown, looked utterly bewildered. “Our men will handle this. Carlos is on duty—”
“There are no men left!” I snarled, dragging her toward the study. “Leo stripped us bare. For that whore in Vegas!”
My mother flinched. “Isabella!”
I ignored her cry of protest, stormed into the study, and slammed my palm on the concealed button beneath Father’s desk.
A section of bookcase slid away, revealing the cold steel of the panic room door.
“Get in! Now!”
The sound of another blast, closer this time, finally shattered her denial. She scrambled into the room after me. I activated the security protocols, and the heavy steel door sealed shut behind us.
“Where’s your brother?! I need to call Leo, tell him to get back here!” My mother grabbed for the phone, her voice trembling.
“He’s not coming!” I spat, as the steel door shuddered from another blast. My fingers trembled, but I found the switch, activating the family’s deep-channel distress beacon. I couldn’t wait for Leo. Last time, his delay was a death sentence for her.
My stomach churned. The estate was isolated, miles from backup, and a storm raged outside.
BOOM!
The panic room door groaned and buckled. I instinctively threw my weight against it, fear rising in my throat like bile.
The call connected.
“Leo? Thank God you—”
“Ma? What the hell?” Music and shrill female laughter bled through the line. “I’m a little busy here. Scarlett and I are celebrating. Call back tomorrow.”
“I’m not lying! It’s a real attack! If you don’t come back now, you’ll be burying us!” she screamed.
His tone frosted over. “Look, I know you hate Scarlett, but this little drama is a new low. And tell Isabella her games are pathetic. I’m not falling for this shit.”
My blood ran cold.
Chapter 2
He’s back, too. Leo remembers.
But why would he think this was a lie?
Last time, he saw the bodies.
He saw what the Volkovs did. Why is he so detached?
All because of Scarlett’s one perfect, tragic lie? “Isabella did it.”
The line went dead.
My mother stared at the phone, then at me, her face pale. “He… he thinks I’m making it up?”
“Now you see what kind of son you raised,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “He’d rather believe a whore than his own blood.”
Suddenly, footsteps outside the door. Then, the distinct hiss of plastic explosives.
“Get down!” I yelled, tackling my mother.
BOOM!
The steel door blew inward, smoke and fire pouring into the room. A figure in black tactical gear stormed in, a ski mask hiding his face, an AK-47 in his hands.
A Volkov hitter.
“Well, well. The panic room,” the man rasped, his voice muffled by the mask. He stepped over the mangled door. “Just like the map said.”
I froze. The map.
His eyes, cold and dead behind the mask, landed on me. “Isabella Moretti. The new Consigliere. Big night for you.” He raised his AK-47, the movement casual, deadly. “The Volkovs send their regards.”
My mother screamed. “Don’t you touch my daughter!”
I clenched my jaw, fighting back the despair. I turned to my mother, my voice a low whisper. “Ma, no matter what happens, you don’t move. You hear me? There’s an escape tunnel. Use it. Get to the Falcones. Ask for sanctuary.”
The killer was getting closer, a military-grade knife glinting in his hand. We were out of time.
“Isabella, I can’t just leave you!”
I squeezed her hand, hard. “Do what I say. As long as you’re alive, we have a chance.”
Just then, the killer kicked aside a heavy cabinet and charged.
“Ma, go!” I yelled.
But my mother snatched a heavy silver candlestick from a side table. She charged him, swinging with all her might, trying to crack his skull, trying to buy me seconds.
“Isabella, run!” she screamed, her voice a choked, determined sob. “I won’t let them hurt my baby! Go!”
“MA!”
The word ripped from my throat.
I saw it all.
The blade. The twist.
The way it plunged into my mother’s stomach.
She went down, hands slick with her own blood.
“No!” I was on my knees, hysteria choking me.
The past flooded back—the knife in her heart, the same nightmare on a different day.
It didn’t matter where the blade hit.
I felt it. I felt everything.
Even then, her hand found mine, a trembling, iron grip.
“Go, Isabella! For… the family… Go!”
I looked at her, my heart breaking.
Then I turned and hit the button.
I had to get out. I had to save her.
The floor slid open, revealing a tunnel leading to the woods outside the estate.
As I dropped down, I heard my mother’s final, fading gasp and the killer’s curse echo behind me.
Chapter 3
Icy snow hit my face as I crawled out of the tunnel’s exit.
The entire Moretti estate was a sea of fire.
Explosions and gunfire ripped through the night.
I was covered in my mother’s blood, stumbling the mile toward the Falcone estate.
A shrapnel wound in my arm burned, but I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t think. I just had to run.
When I finally collapsed against the iron gates of the Falcone estate, I pounded on them, my voice a raw scream.
“Dante! Open the gate! Help me! The Volkovs… they’re hitting our estate! My mother—save my mother!”
The gates slowly opened. Dante Falcone stood in the doorway, a ghost in a tailored suit.
The man I was supposed to marry.
The warmth I once saw in his eyes was gone, replaced by shards of ice. He looked down at me, kneeling in the snow.
“Isabella,” his voice was a low, dangerous purr. “Quite a performance.”
My head was spinning, blood roaring in my ears. “Dante, I’m not acting! This isn’t a joke! My mother’s life is on the line! Please, send your men back with me! The Volkovs are inside the house!”
He sneered, his gaze raking over my blood-soaked form. “Leo called ahead. Gave me a heads-up about the little show you’d be putting on tonight. The damsel in distress act. Pathetic, even for you.”
“Don’t listen to his bullshit! It’s real!” I pleaded, holding up my hand, showing him the family ring slick with my mother’s blood.
His eyes flicked to it. “You’re really committing to the bit, aren’t you?” he drawled. “Even adding props.”
“Dante! Are you insane? It’s a real attack!” I screamed, tears of rage and desperation blurring my vision.
Before Scarlett, Dante was my world.
He was the gentle protector of my childhood, the man who, after our engagement, had treated me with nothing but doting affection.
Then she appeared. Everything changed.
Dante grew distant, my brother began to shun me.
And Leo, to impress his new flame, did the unthinkable.
Just because a minor Volkovs enterprise shared the same name as Scarlett’s pampered Persian cat, Leo had maliciously torched it to the ground.
That single act of arrogance was all it took to unleash the Volkovs’ full fury upon us.
I grabbed his pant leg as he turned to leave. “Please! My mother needs help! If you don’t go now, she’s going to die! She’s really going to die! I’ll do anything,” my voice broke.
“The engagement… if that’s what this is about, if you think this is some game to test you… then it’s over. I’ll announce it tomorrow. Just please, save my mother! She’s really going to die!”
Dante’s expression tightened.
Far from the satisfaction I’d anticipated, he only looked more furious.
Chapter 4
The old butler, Antonio, who’d bounced me on his knee as a child, shifted uncomfortably. “Signore Falcone,” he murmured, “forgive me, but the signorina… she would never stage such a thing. It is not in her.”
Dante hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features.
I seized the opening.
I forced my trembling body into a low, formal bow, a plea of utmost desperation.
“Please,” I choked, the plea cracked by the motion.
“Please, save my mother. I’m begging you.”
Finally, he spoke, his voice softening just a fraction.
“Alright. You’re my fiancée, Isabella. For better or worse. I’ll take my men and check it out,” he conceded, his gaze fixed on my pathetic state.
“But know this, Isabella. If this is another one of your games, if you’re lying to me… I will never trust you again.”
I snapped my head up, hope igniting in my chest.
I didn’t care about the threat.
As long as he went.
He had just started to call for his men when his phone buzzed.
It was Leo.
Dante hit the speakerphone button.
Leo’s voice, lazy and laced with contempt, crackled from the speaker.
“Let me guess, Izzy’s on your doorstep, crying wolf? Don’t buy her act, Dante. I just got some bullshit call from Mom’s phone, rambling about an attack. She’s getting desperate trying to ruin things for Scarlett.”
My blood froze.
Rage and fear tore through me, and I screamed at the phone. “Leo, are you insane?! Do we both have to be in body bags for you to believe me? You saw what they did to her! You saw the blood!”
He just laughed, a cold, empty sound. “Don’t you get it? This was never about power. This was about you letting our mother die! I already had someone check. The estate is fine. You’re a vicious, manipulative bitch, and I’m not falling for your tricks this time. If something happens to Mother, it’s on your head!”
My heart shattered. The line went dead.
Dante’s face went dark. “He said this was your sick little way of seeing if your fiancé would come running.”
“No, that’s not—”
“Enough,” Dante’s voice was deadly quiet.
He gestured to one of his men. “The Falcone family has a rule for those who cry wolf and waste our time. Marco, give her the gun. She knows the price of a lie.”
The man named Marco produced a pistol and took a step toward me.
My blood ran cold, but pride surged through me.
I straightened my back, chin held high. “I am Isabella Moretti, acting heir to my family. You will not lay a hand on me.”
The guard froze.
Dante’s eyes narrowed, and with a flick of his wrist, he waved Marco back.
“You’re right. He can’t touch you. But what about me?”
He whipped out his gun and aimed it at me.
“Game’s over, Isabella.” he said.
I stared down the barrel, terror choking me.
Dante was actually going to kill me.
A raw sob tore from my throat, my composure shattering not into a plea, but a final, desperate bargain.
“Fine. Do it!” I screamed, tears blinding me. “Shoot me, but then you go! You go and save my mother! Please, Dante, she’s dying! Just go!”
For a second, he hesitated. I saw something shift in his eyes—doubt, maybe even pity.
It was enough.
The shot rang out.
My phone shattered, a piece of it cutting my arm right where the bullet had grazed it.
Pain flared.
I stared at the destroyed phone, then at the blood on my arm.
He glared down at me.
“Enough. Spare me the drama,” he said, his voice cold as steel.
“Lie again, and the next one’s for you. Next time you test a man, don’t be so stupid you get yourself killed.”
Just as the world began to fade to black, a frantic voice crackled through the earpiece on Dante’s suit.
“Boss! The Moretti estate is under full-blown attack! The whole place is on fire! It’s real!”
The smirk on Dante’s face didn’t just fade, it shattered.
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