After my rebirth, the first thing I did was throw every single photo of Julian Volkov and me into the fireplace
Then, I tore Adrian Moretti’s love letters into shreds.
In my past life, Don Volkov had sworn he loved me, yet after I gave up my acceptance to Columbia University
just to earn his family’s approval, he left the country with Elena Marchesi.
His goodbye note was short and precise: [She needs me more than you do.]
I cried for three months straight, and then Adrian showed up.
He brought me breakfast from his club every single morning, always making sure it was my favorite fried eggs and black coffee.
“I’ve waited eight years for you, Bella. Just give me one chance,” the Don heir had said.
I married him. He was home every night, and his eyes never wandered. I really thought I’d finally found my happily ever after.
Until that snowy winter night when my car spun out of control on the Long Island Expressway and slammed into a tree.
With three broken ribs and a ruptured spleen, I spent seven days hooked up to a ventilator in the ICU.
On the seventh day, I briefly regained consciousness and heard the nurses gossiping out in the hallway through the thin curtain.
“Poor Madre,” one nurse whispered right outside my door. “Don comes to the hospital every single day on time, but he hasn’t set foot inside her room once.”
“Shh, didn’t you know? He goes straight to the VIP wing to watch over that woman, Elena Marchesi.”
“I heard the cost of her treatment could bankrupt a small country. The Volkov and Moretti families are footing the entire bill.”
That was the moment I realized both men had been funding Elena behind my back for years.
I was nothing more than a pawn used by the Dons of the two families to launder their massive, illicit expenses.
After dying alone in that hospital bed, God gave me a second chance, dropping me right back to the months before I rejected my university acceptance.
This time, I was going to sell the house my parents left me and buy two plane tickets for my grandmother and me.
“Grandma, we’re leaving.”
Poor Madre Moretti,” a nurse whispered right outside my door. “Don comes every day, but he hasn’t set foot inside her room once.”
“Yeah, he always goes straight to the woman in the VIP room next door.”
I had been in the intensive care unit for seven days after the crash. I couldn’t move, but I was fully conscious the whole time.
The consigliere had called Adrian over and over again, but he never showed up.
Except he had been here the entire time.
Why did I choose a man like him?
I fought to open my eyes, but I could only see the flatline on the monitor.
Then came the permanent darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, the blinding sunlight forced them shut.
I was back at my desk, and the calendar showed I had exactly three months before I would give up Columbia University for Julian.
This time, I picked up the ringing phone from the international admissions office. “Dean Miller? Yes, I’m confirming my spot in the exchange program. Thank you for holding it for me.”
“Wonderful, Isabella. This is a life-changing opportunity, and it would be a tragedy to waste it.”
I hung up and immediately called Sal, a real estate agent who used to be my father’s business partner.
“I want to put the house on the market. Cash only, and I want to close within thirty days.”
As soon as everything was set, Julian called, his tone clipped and demanding. “Bella, Elena is having trouble with her graduation thesis. You’re the smart one, go help her.”
Elena. It was always Elena.
In my past life, I stayed up for three consecutive nights to save her project, but her name was the only one on the final award.
Julian had dismissed my exhaustion with a diamond necklace. “Elena is fragile. She needs that award to build her portfolio, so don’t mention a word of this to anyone.”
I had been so incredibly stupid back then.
I gripped the phone tightly. “Fine. Send me the files.”
“Good girl,” he said, hanging up abruptly.
Later that afternoon, Adrian knocked on my door, bringing takeout boxes and setting them across my desk before speaking softly. “I heard Elena is really stressed about her project. You know she’s been sickly ever
since that attack in Palermo… and Julian always worries about her.”
They always had their excuses. Elena was fragile, and Elena needed help.
I looked up and smiled at him. “I understand, Adrian. I won’t make things difficult for Julian.”
He let out a visible sigh of relief. They both thought I was still the old Isabella Rossi, the girl who would do anything for others until she broke.
The next day, I went to the university library to organize my application materials.
That was when I spotted Julian’s luxury car outside, with several soldiers sitting in the café near the entrance
while he and Elena curled up in a corner inside.
She looked radiant, leaning against him and looking perfectly healthy.
“I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Julian,” she smiled sweetly.
Julian’s expression softened-a tenderness I had never seen on his face. “Don’t be silly.”
He turned around to grab his coffee and his face instantly hardened when he caught sight of me.
I offered a faint smile and looked away.
I didn’t care anymore. Soon, all of this would be over.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.