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Twin in the Coffin Novel Cover

Twin in the Coffin

Following a tragic death caused by starvation and her husband’s abandonment, a woman regresses to the moment Giovanni Rossini faked his death to steal his twin's identity. In her previous life, Giovanni and his mistress Katrina left her and her daughter Natalia to perish while his mother, Antonietta, tormented them. Now returned to the warehouse where it all began, she is determined to shield her child and exact a cold, calculated revenge against the family that destroyed them.
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Chapter 2

St. Mariah Church was packed. Black suits filled every pew.

I sat in the front row in a faded black mourning dress, my fingers locked tight around Natalia's small hand.

Her palm felt slick with cold sweat. Her other hand clutched my sleeve like a lifeline. She kept darting glances around the church, all nerves and wide eyes, like a startled animal bracing for a blow.

The church doors opened.

Giovanni entered and cradled Katrina as if she might shatter. She wore an off-white lace dress, with one hand resting lightly on her slightly rounded belly.

"Katrina's pregnant. She can't handle too much strain." Giovanni guided her into the empty seat beside me. His voice sounded soft, and indulgence filled his eyes. "Sorry to make you sit so long, sweetheart."

My stomach rolled. I dug my nails into my palm until the nausea eased.

Katrina spoke first. "Rina, Giovanni passed so suddenly. You're a woman alone now, with a child. That isn't easy."

Her tone stayed gentle, almost kind. "Leaving his money with you isn't safe. Why don't you let me keep it for now? When Natalia grows up, I'll return every cent to her."

I did not answer. My gaze stayed fixed on the portrait at the altar, as if her words had never reached me.

Giovanni followed smoothly. "Katrina's right. A widow guarding money with a child only invites trouble. Worse, it could bring problems to the family. Hand it over. It's for your own good."

For my own good? That money was the only way out for Natalia and me, our only road forward. And he dared to reach for it in the open.

Something snapped.

I lifted my head. "Giovanni is dead. His estate belongs to me and Natalia."

My voice rang through the church. "You're his brother. If you won't protect a widow and a child, fine. But standing over a corpse and grabbing what he left behind?"

I sneered, "Do you have no shame at all? Or are you not afraid he'll come looking for you at night to collect what you stole?"

Giovanni's face hardened. "Watch your mouth."

"Am I wrong?" I laughed coldly and stood. I turned and walked toward the corner of the church.

Several battered wooden crates stood stacked there. I had hidden them ahead of time. I dragged out the bottom one and flipped the lid open.

Inside lay Giovanni's initiation certificate, fragments of his smuggling ledgers, and the token he had once given me when we were young, a cheap silver ring.

"This is what your brother left me." I seized the certificate and stepped toward the fireplace.

Flames licked along the paper's edge. "If you don't want it, fine. It's useless anyway. I might as well burn it and let it follow him."

The paper hissed as it curled and blackened. I fed the ledger scraps into the fire, then the silver ring. The flames leaped higher and painted my face in flickering light.

My voice broke just enough to sound real. "When he was alive, none of you remembered his worth. He's barely cold, and you're already fighting over what he left behind…"

"Rina! Don't you dare!" Giovanni roared and lunged forward.

A white-haired elder, Alessandro Lo Russo, raised one hand and stopped him cold. He stood as one of the family's old pillars. His glance at Giovanni felt icy and final.

Giovanni froze. The color drained from his face as he watched the last proof tying him to the name Giovanni burn down to ash.

I watched the fire die and leave nothing but black dust.

Relief washed through me.

Without those records, Giovanni could never truly be Giovanni again. He would exist only as Marco, the insignificant twin who had never touched the family's inner circle.

The identity he had stolen with such care had just become his prison.

After the funeral, Natalia tugged at my sleeve. Her voice dropped to a whisper, sharp with a child's instincts. "Mama, when Uncle Marco touched his nose just now, it was exactly like Papa. And the way he talks, too. It feels the same."

My chest tightened. I crouched and wrapped her in my arms, pressing my mouth to her ear.

My voice trembled despite my effort to steady it. "That's because they were twins, sweetheart. Papa's already in heaven. He won't be coming back. From now on, I will do everything I can to protect you."

She nodded without fully understanding and buried her face against me.

I looked up. Across the crowd, my eyes met Giovanni's. He stood at the church doors with his black suit collar loosened. The mask was gone. Naked hatred stared back at me. It was dark and poisonous, waiting to strike.

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