My Twin Sister Killed Me For Her Mafia Dream

Lorenzo's breathing was heavy, his face tight with fury. He looked like a cornered animal, ready to lash out.

Lydia was slumped on the floor, unconscious, with a bleeding gash on her forehead.

I knew it. I knew she'd never succeed.

For now, it was just a beating. But once Lorenzo sobered up, I doubted she'd live to see another day.

I let out a slow breath and was about to slip away when a hand like an iron vise clamped down on my wrist.

The next second, Lorenzo yanked me into the room next door.

I was still wearing my mask. My terrified eyes met his.

The hotel lights were dim, casting long shadows on the wall. He pinned me against it, his voice low and hoarse, hot with the drug's effect.

"Your scent... your shape... you feel so familiar. Who are you?"

I froze. There was no way I could answer him. We had spent so much time together—if I spoke, he would know it was me.

I couldn't let anything happen between us. If it did, I'd end up just like Lydia.

I struggled to break free, but even drugged, Lorenzo's strength was like steel, pinning me in place. I didn't stand a chance.

I opened my mouth to scream for help, but he suddenly leaned down, his hot breath fanning my ear as he whispered, "Your eyes... are so beautiful..."

I went rigid. For a second, I thought he'd recognized me.

Then, he ripped off my mask and kissed me with an almost punishing force.

Panic washed over me. I quickly shut off the lights, but after that, there was no more chance to escape.

The hours blurred into a dark, painful haze. It wasn't until late into the night that Lorenzo's grip finally loosened, his strength fading.

Every part of my body screamed in pain, but I forced myself to get up and get dressed.

I wasn't like Lydia, living in some mafia romance novel and believing a ruthless man would fall for a naive girl like her. I wouldn't let myself get trapped in a mess I couldn't escape.

So while he was asleep, I slipped out. I didn't hesitate, and I didn't look back. I would just pretend nothing had ever happened.

But just as I stepped out of the room, I saw a man I recognized as Marco Gallo, a low-level gangster from another family, stumbling out of the room next door.

He whistled low when he saw me.

I glanced past him into the room. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and Lydia was lying on the bed, her dress torn, completely unconscious.

Remembering how she had murdered me in my last life, I just quietly closed the door and walked away.