Chapter 1

I was the sole heiress to the Tiernan family, the most powerful dynasty in Boston.

After my mother's death, my family sought an alliance by betrothing me to the Costello family of Chicago.

I was brought to Chicago to be raised alongside their two sons.

Don Carlo doted on me. He would have me sit by his side, gesture toward his sons, and say with a soft laugh:

"When Riona comes of age, whichever man she chooses will control the future of Chicago."

"Stay here, child. Chicago is your home."

In my previous life, I chose the heir—Rocco.

I stood by his side through the power struggles. I used my family's ports to open passages for his businesses. I silenced rival families. I secured his position.

And just as he was poised to become the next Don, my reward was a gilded cage—a penthouse prison.

And a death warrant signed by his own hand.

Boston's businesses were annexed. My family's influence was purged.

He came to see me just before my "accidental car crash" was arranged.

"If it wasn't for you," he said coldly, "Esmeralda would still be alive."

"She died alone, and I wasn't even allowed to mourn her. You will suffer ten times what she did."

"Your family is dead because of you. Their blood is on your hands—your only dowry."

And then, I died.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the Costello family's grand dining hall.

Don Carlo was smiling.

"Riona, today you will choose your husband."

The Costello brothers stood before me.

This time, I didn't even glance at Rocco.

I turned and pointed to the silent younger son in the corner.

"I choose to marry Lucian."

And this time—I would be the one to write our ending.

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Donna Isabella scrutinized me, then gave a curt nod. An aide stepped forward, placing a ring engraved with the family crest in my palm—the symbol of our alliance.

"Riona," she said gently, her voice carrying across the hall, "give it to the man you wish to marry."

Don Carlo laughed, a warm, indulgent sound.

"Whomever Riona favors, I will give her to him with my full blessing. Let all of Chicago celebrate."

The Costello family estate was filled with the family's Capos and Made Men, their wives, and the daughters of Chicago's most powerful dynasties.

As a Boston Principessa raised in Chicago, my marriage was more than a personal affair.

Whoever married me would gain a powerful alliance, enough to tip the scales of power for a generation.

I descended the steps slowly, the ring cool in my palm.

Polite, predatory smiles followed my every move.

No one doubted my choice.

Everyone knew I had been infatuatuated with the family's heir, Rocco, since childhood.

Choosing him was a foregone conclusion.

Rocco, however, did not look pleased. He frowned, taking a half-step back as if to distance himself.

Among the assembled ladies stood Esmeralda Rossi, the daughter of a low-level casino dealer. Tears shimmered in her eyes, threatening to fall but held back by sheer will.

I glided past one of Don Carlo's most capable Capos, then another.

Rocco’s expression soured from displeasure to undisguised distaste.

Standing next to him was his younger brother, Lucian Costello—Isabella’s second son—who watched me with a quiet, knowing smile.

As our eyes met, something softer flickered in his gaze—an almost imperceptible sigh, hidden beneath a mafioso’s composure. It was as if he already mourned the poor choice I was about to make.

Just that morning, he had leaned against the carved mantel of Donna Isabella's private study, arms crossed, regarding me with that same mix of amusement and concern.

"Do you really have to chase a man who won't even give you the time of day? You're the Principessa of Boston. You could have your pick of any man in this family, yet you're begging for scraps of attention from someone who doesn't respect you."

He had smiled then, a careless, warm smile.

And yet—

In my past life, when I was executed, it was Lucian who had raced back from his business on the East Coast, driving his car until it broke down on the highway.

He arrived too late.

He knelt before my coffin for three days and three nights, without food, water, or sleep.

"I failed you," he had whispered, his voice raw. "I should have stopped this union, even if it meant defying my father. I should have saved you."

I blinked the memory away.

Beside Lucian stood another man of status, poised but distant—the son of Don Carlo’s public mistress. He’d grown up knowing the limits of his power, never fighting or scheming for the Don's throne, a prize he could never claim.

The entire hall held its breath as I raised the ring.

I approached the two Costello brothers.

Before I could place it in anyone's hand, Rocco strode forward and dropped to one knee before Don Carlo.

"Papa," he said, his voice ringing through the silent hall, "I beg you to release me from this honor. My heart already belongs to another."

He turned slightly, extending a hand toward Esmeralda without quite touching her.

"Esmeralda Rossi is the woman I love," he declared, his voice unwavering.

"Our love is real. I will have no other wife but her."