After the Ninety-Ninth Fire

The 99th time I was supposed to marry Vincent Falcone, he killed me.

He blew up my car. With our unborn child inside me.

I remember his excuse. The one he gave to his new bride.

"She was just too stubborn. Insisted on being my wife."

"An 'accident' was the only way to make her, and the kid, disappear for good."

The man who defied his family for me finally got tired of being poor.

So he erased his "stain."

Me.

But I was reborn.

This time, I didn't wait for a wedding that would never come.

I packed a bag and walked away.

He ran straight back to his family's money.

The next time we met, he was at the altar with another woman.

Then he saw my stomach.

He cornered me after the ceremony, his eyes blazing.

"Whose child is that?" he snarled.

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1

The moment I saw Vincent again, the memory of being burned alive seared through me, and I was that restless, disembodied soul once more.

"Vincent, how could you be so cruel? When you loved me, you treated me like a queen. When you stopped, you burned my world to the ground."

In the family study, cigar smoke swirled in the air.

Vincent, his face buried in a woman's hair, didn't even lift his eyes.

"Five years. I'm sick of looking at the same face for five years. Hiding in the shadows with her… it was more than I could take."

"She can never marry into the Falcone family, and I can't stay in the shadows forever. An 'accident' is the best way to end it."

Vincent's father, Don Falcone, sighed heavily. "Elara is carrying a Falcone. You wouldn't even spare your own child?"

"An orphan girl? How is she worthy of bearing the heir to the Falcone family?"

Vincent's cold words cut through my flesh like a scalpel.

I subconsciously reached out, wanting to wring the life from his worthless neck.

But my hand could only pass through his body, again and again.

Powerlessness and despair shattered me completely.

This was the brutal end to our passionate love.

Back then, Vincent had fallen for me at first sight, defying his family and even leaving the Family for my sake.

He was beaten black and blue, yet he insisted on standing by my side.

At that time, everyone said that passionate love was a game only the upper class could afford to play.

And yet, it was this same Vincent who personally ended my life and our child's, all to clear his path back to his family.

Only then did I understand that love was the most treacherous thing in this world.

So, in this new life, I left him without looking back, without a single word of goodbye.

"I'm asking you, whose child are you carrying?"

Vincent's suddenly sharp voice pulled me back to the present.

He stared intently at my abdomen, his gaze like a tempered blade, as if he wanted to burn a hole right through my stomach.

I glanced around, but I didn't see the bride.

Just as I was about to speak, a sharp female voice interrupted.

"So this is the great love you raised hell for? The one you couldn't live without? She doesn't look like much."

"Vincent, your taste is truly abysmal."

Those two dismissive remarks drew a ripple of snickers from the crowd.

The speaker was none other than his bride-to-be, Isabella.

The Falcone family was a mid-tier power in the Chicago underworld, one of many families that had risen through opportunism.

Yet, families like theirs had standards for choosing a daughter-in-law that rivaled the royal family's.

Whether a woman was slender or curvy, her selection ultimately came down to one word: "profit."

Isabella, in a lavish white gown, was exquisite and elegant, looking every bit the perfect match for Vincent.

Vincent, this is the life you wanted, isn't it? A perfect match, a beautiful woman by your side.

"Look at her, dressed like she just crawled out of the gutter. The stench of poverty is choking me."

"What's she holding? It looks so greasy, it's disgusting!"

"Vincent, why is your ex-girlfriend like gum on your shoe? You can't seem to shake her off."

"Did she come here pregnant to crash the wedding? Or is she broke and looking for child support from the groom?"

Amidst the rising tide of mockery, I glanced down at the croissant in my hand.

My pregnancy cravings kicked in, and I just had to get a croissant from the corner bakery.

I looked at the simple dress I'd thrown on; it did look a bit shabby.

But I didn't care at all.

"You've got it all wrong. I was just passing by."

I had intended to explain, but looking at the smug faces in this crowd, I instantly lost my appetite.

My good mood was utterly ruined.

"Stop!"

"Since you're already here, my wedding could use a little sideshow like you, couldn't it?"

Isabella signaled for her bodyguards to block my way, her eyes filled with mockery as she settled in for a show.