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Fate Reloaded Novel Cover

Fate Reloaded

In Fate Reloaded, a betrayal from a previous life is flipped when Vivian Giordano saves her sister during a mafia ambush. Recognizing the reset of time, the protagonist realizes Vivian is also a transmigrator seeking to steal her former destiny as Luca Moretti’s wife. While Vivian chases the power and prestige of the Moretti heir, she remains oblivious to the truth. The salvation she covets is actually a descent into a much darker, more violent nightmare.
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Chapter 3

Vivian chose to hold her wedding on the same day as mine. It was deliberate. Her goal was to make me the contrast to her happiness.

She wore a wedding gown inlaid with 999 diamonds, looking at me with undisguised pride.

"Sorry, sister," she said lightly. "I forgot that, given it's the Boss's heir's wedding, the entire family will be attending. There probably won't be anyone left to go to your ceremony."

I calmly adjusted the hem of my gown and did not respond to her provocation.

This might be the most glorious moment of her life. Tomorrow, she might not be able to smile anymore.

Father rushed into the dressing room and spoke to Vivian in the gentlest voice, "Viv, are you ready? His people are here to pick you up."

When he turned and saw me, his expression immediately darkened.

"Julia, why are you still here? Don't disturb Vivian while she is getting ready. I don't have time to attend your wedding today. Take a cab yourself later."

I nodded calmly, lifted my skirt, and walked out of the Giordano estate.

Luca's entourage had already arrived at the gates. More than a dozen flashy luxury cars blocked the entrance. When Vivian stepped outside, waves of whistles erupted.

Luca stood at the front holding a bouquet, with one hand in his pocket, a wicked smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Vivian was thrilled. She rushed over, threw her arms around him, and gave him a passionate kiss.

Meanwhile, I slipped out quietly through the side entrance.

Waiting there was the wedding car Marco had prepared for me long ago, a low-profile black Lincoln. The car departed silently, just as it had arrived, without drawing any attention.

The heir's wedding was grand and overwhelming.

At mine with Marco, only a few of his close comrades attended. During the ceremony, his face remained taut the entire time. Even his body looked stiff. His severity weighed down the atmosphere.

A few of his comrades had originally planned to joke around, yet they could not withstand the oppressive aura radiating from him. They set down their gifts and hurried away. The pressure around him seemed to grow even heavier.

Even the priest stumbled several times while reciting the vows.

I began to feel uneasy.

Was he dissatisfied with me as his wife? Was he resisting this marriage?

My mood sank.

The ceremony ended hastily.

By the time we returned to his villa, I was exhausted and began removing my veil.

He seemed restless. He tugged at his tie several times, yet failed to loosen it.

I hurried forward, wanting to help him undo it.

He immediately looked tense and stepped back sharply, accidentally knocking over a bottle of fragrance on the table.

The glass bottle shattered on the floor.

He sucked in a breath and crouched down in a fluster to pick up the shards. In the process, he cut his palm. Embarrassed, he tried to clench his fist to hide the wound, then hissed in pain.

I quickly cupped his hand in both of mine.

The instant our skin touched, his entire body stiffened. Amid the heavy scent of jasmine, color crept from his neck up to the tips of his ears.

I focused on his palm, frowning slightly.

A shard of glass was embedded deep in his hand. Blood dripped onto the carpet, stark and alarming.

He struggled to pull his hand away, but I looked up at him, my tone turning firm.

"Do not move."

He froze instantly, not daring to shift even a fraction.

Once I finished treating the wound, he fled into the bathroom as if escaping.

At first, I thought he disliked me and did not even want me to touch him. Only after he finished showering and came out did I realize I was wrong.

He still did not dare meet my eyes, yet he slowly walked over and stopped in front of me. Moisture still clung to him. A robe hung loosely over his shoulders.

The muscles in his chest stretched the neckline open, revealing sharp, attractive collarbones. The thin silk robe clung tightly to his skin, the contours of his abs clearly visible.

I had not expected such explosive physicality beneath that bulky, imposing frame. My face burned as I looked away.

Only then did the realization hit me.

Was he trying to seduce me?

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