My Brothers' Regret After My Death

Before Luca could even find his voice, Matteo, the second brother, snatched the phone away. As the family’s Consigliere, he was naturally suspicious and an expert at sniffing out lies.

"Don't listen to this 'cop's' bullshit, Luca. This is ridiculous. If she’s hiring actors, she’s doing a piss-poor job. Everyone knows the Falcone and Caruso families are merging. No one would be stupid enough to touch her today."

Matteo let out a cold laugh, hung up, and tossed the phone back on the table.

"Elena is just trying to make us panic. She’s using this extreme stunt to compete with Isabella for attention. She’s mimicking Isabella’s 'disappearance' from back then, fishing for a reaction. Luca, ignore her."

Dante sat nearby, cleaning his Glock. He nodded in agreement; he trusted Matteo’s judgment implicitly.

Watching their cold, indifferent faces from the air, I felt as if my heart was being pierced by a Siberian wind.

Isabella was their precious jewel, but wasn't I Falcone blood too?

Years ago, Isabella had been snatched by enemies during a chaotic family gathering.

My mother was devastated. During those dark years, she sought comfort and, two years later, gave birth to me.

It wasn't until Isabella was eighteen that the family used every resource they had to find her and bring her back from the slums.

In their eyes, my birth was just a replacement—an error meant to fill a void.

Until I was thirteen, I was the only princess of the family.

But everyone, from my parents to the bodyguards, constantly reminded me: Everything you have was supposed to be Isabella’s. If she hadn't been lost, you wouldn't even be here.

When Isabella returned, she always wore old clothes and told stories of the abuse and hunger she suffered in foster care.

Those stories were like whips against the hearts of my parents and brothers, compounding their guilt over my existence.

From then on, every rule in the Falcone house was rewritten to favor Isabella.

Isabella stood to the side with red-rimmed eyes, looking like a frightened fawn.

Lorenzo stepped forward and gently took her hand.

"Don't blame yourself, Bella. This has nothing to do with you."

"My engagement to Elena was always a forced business arrangement. This gives me and her a chance to re-evaluate whether this relationship even needs to exist."

And Lorenzo’s idea of "re-evaluating" was spending this storm-tossed weekend indulging Isabella.

I drifted there, watching Lorenzo pamper her with tender devotion.

In the past, every time Lorenzo ditched me for Isabella, I would scream and demand answers like a madwoman.

I could handle my brothers being biased, but Lorenzo was my fiancé—my only anchor in this cold family.

Why did he always put me second?

Back then, Lorenzo would just light a cigarette and look at me with boredom. "Elena, she’s your sister. She suffered out there. Being good to her is how I make up for what you were given while she had nothing. Do you get it?"

It wasn't until evening, when the sunset stained the estate a bloody red, that Lorenzo’s private phone finally rang.

His brow relaxed, and a mocking smirk played on his lips.

"What? Finally remembered me? You hid all day, and now you’re finally crawling back to apologize?"

But it wasn't me on the other end. It was his lead soldato, sounding frantic.

"Boss, we’ve searched the whole city. Miss Elena didn't go back to the Falcone estate, and she’s not at your penthouse... There’s no word of a kidnapping or ransom on the black market either..."

Lorenzo cut him off angrily.

"If you haven't found her, why the hell are you calling me? You’re all useless!"

He slammed the phone down. Isabella, who had clearly overheard, swirled her red wine and gave a soft, mocking laugh.

"My sister never really had any 'respectable' friends. She’s a bride-to-be who didn't go home or to your place last night... where do you think she could have gone?"

Isabella lowered her voice, her tone laced with poison:

"She couldn't be at one of those... filthy nightclubs, could she? I heard she’s been under a lot of stress... It would be so immature of her to do something that brings shame to the family name."

Lorenzo’s handsome features twisted into a deep scowl. Family honor was everything to him.

"Enough. Elena might be bratty, but she wouldn't stoop that low."

Seeing Lorenzo’s bad mood, Isabella immediately retracted her claws, tears flowing on command.

"It’s my fault. I was just so worried about her that my mind started racing."

"I’m always so stupid, I’ve upset you again..."

As soon as Isabella started crying, the three brothers turned into killing machines, their eyes snapping toward Lorenzo with lethal intent.

"That’s enough, Lorenzo. Isabella didn't say anything wrong. Why are you snapping at her?"

"You can't even keep your own fiancée in line. Why are you taking it out on Bella?"

Isabella quickly stepped between them and Lorenzo, looking pathetic and fragile.

"Don't blame Lorenzo, brothers, I was the one who spoke out of turn..."

Before she could finish, her eyes fluttered shut, and her body went limp.

Lorenzo’s pupils dilated as he caught her in his arms.

"Bella!"