Four Deaths Later, Who Is She?

“Are you insane?” Blair was the first to leap up. “Do you really want to go and get yourself killed?”

All of them looked at me with a mix of confusion and pity.

“I need to confirm something. Wait for my news,” I said, ignoring their admiring expressions as I stood up and left immediately.

So far, I was the most puzzled of everyone. After all, I was still Dante’s secret lover. Not long ago, we had been inseparable. He had once told me that I was the love of his life, and the ring had fit my finger perfectly.

Night had fallen over the city. I arrived at the luxury penthouse where Dante and I secretly met, looking up at the top floor, its windows glowing warmly. No one knew about this place except his most trusted security.

When the elevator doors opened, I used my fingerprint to unlock the apartment door. Dante was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me, the moonlight highlighting the broad contours of his shoulders.

Hearing my footsteps, he turned around, briefly frozen mid-motion. However, he quickly regained his composure, and his gaze softened.

“You’re here.” His voice was low. “I knew you would come.”

I looked at his tender face, still unable to believe that in my previous life, he had stabbed me to death on our wedding night. I forced myself to stay calm and gently closed the door behind me.

“Your Consigliere said you wanted to marry me. Is that true?” I asked as I stepped closer.

There was a flicker of unease on his face, but he answered seriously, “Of course. I’ve waited for this day for a long time. You’ve been with me long enough to know my heart.”

Dante approached, his movements graceful. His long fingers brushed my cheek, warm and familiar.

“I went to the Monroe family just to marry the woman I love,” he said.

I caught the subtlety in his words. He hadn’t explicitly said who his heart belonged to.

I clenched my hands, forcing a playful tone as I smiled and asked, “Who is your true love? Your Consigliere said it’s a lady from the Monroe family.”

Dante stared into my eyes in silence before answering calmly, without hurry, “Why would you ask that? You should know perfectly well yourself. Of course it’s you, Isabella. That’s why I had the ring custom-made. Marry me, and you’ll have the best life possible.”

He didn’t hedge or avoid the question. His eyes were fixed on mine, full of certainty.

“Why now?” I asked, lifting my head to meet his gaze, keeping my voice steady.

“The time is right,” he said, his hand sliding from my cheek to my neck. “I’ve cleared away all obstacles.”

Since I had become his secret lover, he had always treated me well. As the true heiress, reclaimed by the family as an adult, I hadn’t been familiar with high society etiquette, often suppressed by Catherine and ridiculed or bullied in public. He didn’t just remove my enemies; he secretly backed me up, giving me wealth and power I had never dared to imagine.

Despite being the most powerful Godfather, he had never acted distant in our relationship. He cooked for me, washed my clothes, and treated me with care. When he spoke of marrying his true love, I believed it was me. Yet, in the previous life, after happily marrying him, he had changed.

“You’re not her! How dare you wear that ring? You’re just a lowly mistress, unworthy of me! Die!”

Then, the knife plunged into my chest again and again.

Now, his fingers were sliding down to my right wrist, gently caressing it. I froze, my heart skipping a beat. It was this gesture that made me realize a reasonable truth. Could it be… He was touching my right wrist.

I tried to pull back, staring at him in disbelief. “Your true love is–”

He suddenly gripped my wrist tightly, the strength shocking me. A cold glint flickered in his eyes. “Darling, you’re asking far too many questions tonight.”

Then, he quickly regained his calm, his expression composed.

“The wedding is tomorrow. Go back and prepare, my dear,” he said.

A wave of lingering fear ran through me, sweat breaking out along my back. I quickly nodded and left.