Reborn into His Arms But My Devil Returned Too

A month later, my wedding day arrived.

The ceremony was set for St. Mary's Cathedral.

That morning, I sat in my wheelchair, looking at my gaunt reflection.

I had lost twenty pounds in a month.

My cheeks were hollow, my eyes empty. I was a living corpse.

I couldn't just give in.

I couldn't beat Riccardo. I couldn't fight fate. But I could choose to stop being Liliana Falcone.

I had to die. To them, at least.

The wedding was my only chance to escape.

I sent away my bridesmaids and servants, saying I wanted a moment alone before Riccardo came to get me. I told everyone to wait at the church.

The Falcone estate was empty.

I sat alone in my bedroom, surrounded by memories and the roots of all my pain.

I took out my brightest, blood-red lipstick. Wheeling myself to the vanity, I faced the huge mirror. And I wrote my final words.

Riccardo, you win. But all you've won is an empty shell.

Gia, your jealousy destroyed me. One day, it will devour you, too.

Father, you got your alliance, but you lost your daughter forever.

Finally, my hand trembled as I wrote the name that hurt the most.

Angelo.

A tear fell, smearing the red lipstick on the glass.

I loved you. You broke me. You chose his lies over my truth. You left me to suffer. I hope you're happy.

I finished and took a box of matches from the nightstand.

I needed a fire. A fire big enough to burn "Liliana Falcone" to ashes, to convince everyone I was dead.

I looked out the window, waiting for the signal.

Dr. Valerio, my mother’s most trusted family doctor, was going to help me.

He would get me out and leave an unidentifiable body in my place—a "stand-in."

I heard a faint bird call from downstairs. Three long notes, two short.

The signal.

I took one last look at my gilded cage, turned my wheelchair, and headed for the back door without a second thought.

Minutes later, flames erupted from the second floor of the Falcone estate, black smoke billowing into the sky, consuming everything.

---

Angelo's POV

At that exact moment, Angelo was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse office.

It was Liliana and Riccardo’s wedding day.

He crushed the glass in his fist.

He didn't feel the shards digging into his palm, didn't feel the blood dripping through his fingers.

Every cruel word he’d said in that hospital was a lie. A lie to protect Liliana.

He had figured it out long ago: Riccardo was able to crash the proposal that day because Gia had been working with him from the inside.

This venomous woman, driven by jealousy for her half-sister, wanted to destroy everything Liliana had.

The only thing he could do was to keep this viper chained to his side, where she could no longer harm Liliana.

He knew Liliana.

If she learned the truth, she would throw herself into a reckless quest for revenge, and in her crippled state, she would be no match for Gia.

Besides, for Gia to be this brazen, she must have backup. Someone else was pulling the strings.

The truth… he would uncover it, one step at a time.

The only way was to push Liliana away, to make her think he'd abandoned her so she'd be safe. He would handle the rest.

He even said that she was "of no use to me," knowing she might be listening.

He needed her to give up on him completely. To get married and stay out of the storm he was about to create.

He never imagined his protection would be the thing that killed her.

Suddenly, his office door flew open.

His second-in-command rushed in, his face pale with panic.

"Boss! Something's happened!"

"What is it?" Angelo's voice was raw.

"The Falcone estate... it's on fire!"

Angelo shot to his feet.

His man's voice trembled. "The fire started in her bedroom... They say... the whole wing is engulfed. No one could have survived."

Angelo's mind went blank.

He had forced her to marry Riccardo. He had personally pushed her off a cliff.

She would rather die in a fire on her wedding day than marry that man.

In that instant, all his logic, all his pride, all his doubt, burned away.

All that was left was a suffocating wave of regret and terror.

He didn't think. He shoved everything aside and sprinted for the door.

"Sir!" his driver shouted after him. "It's too dangerous!"

Angelo didn't hear him.

He snatched the keys, threw himself into the driver's seat, and slammed the pedal to the floor.

He raced toward the plume of black smoke on the horizon.

He was a man driving into the heart of his own personal hell.