Chapter 1
Sienna's POV
The day Father calls my sister and me into his study, there are two documents on the desk. One is the family inheritance papers, the other is a marriage contract with the Rossi family.
"It's time you two made a choice," he says, lighting his cigar. "One of you takes over the family business. The other marries Marco Rossi."
In my past life, Vivian grabbed the inheritance. She thought power meant she could control everything, but in less than three years, our rivals tore the family apart. Father died by a rival's bullet, and she got killed during her escape.
And me, Sienna? I was forced to marry Marco. On the surface, I was the young Mrs. Rossi, riding in luxury cars and attending high-end parties. In reality, I was his prisoner—locked in basements, forced to sign transfer documents, slapped in public, used as his human shield.
At a family gathering, Vivian showed up out of nowhere, pointing a gun at me, eyes full of madness. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't been so useless after marrying him, our family wouldn't have fallen apart!"
The gun went off. I collapsed in a pool of blood.
When I open my eyes again, I'm sitting in Father's study. The same two documents are on the desk.
Vivian doesn't even think about it. She jumps in first. "I'll marry Marco Rossi. Let Sienna handle the family."
I smile.
Poor fool. She has no idea she just chose hell.
"Marriage is the right choice! Everyone knows how much influence Marco Rossi has in this city. Sienna's better suited for managing the family—she's been smart since we were kids. All those tedious details are perfect for her!"
Vivian's voice rises an octave in excitement, her eyes locked on that marriage contract. Last month she was swearing to her friends she'd make it to the top on her own merit. Now she doesn't even care how hypocritical she sounds.
Father stays silent, but the old advisor in the study speaks up. "The Rossi heir is a bastard son. He's made plenty of enemies within his own family. This path isn't as easy as you think."
Vivian waves it off dismissively.
"Those women who had it rough over there? That's because they're brainless. All they do is play arm candy and depend on men, so of course they get stepped on. A woman who really understands power plays and knows how to manipulate people? She'd thrive in that environment." She glances at me, contempt in her voice. "Losers always blame their circumstances when really, they're just useless."
I'm sitting in the corner of the sofa, playing with a handgun. When I hear "useless," I almost laugh out loud.
She's talking about me in my past life—the "useless" one who got tortured by Marco until there was nothing left, then shot dead by her.
Vivian actually thinks I failed in my past life because I "wasn't capable"?
Ridiculous. Marco isn't the kind of man you can win over with charm. His bastard origins made him pathologically obsessed with power.
You fail a negotiation? He locks you in the basement for three days. Your family has resources? He forces you to sign documents in meetings, transferring everything to his name. You say the wrong thing in public? He slaps you in front of his men. You think you're his wife? No. You're his tool, ready to be pushed out to take a bullet whenever he needs one.
That's not marriage. That's slavery.
But I'm not telling her. Let her find out for herself.
"Since you've made up your mind," Father pushes the marriage contract toward her, exhaustion in his voice, "then that's settled. If I didn't owe them a favor, I never would've agreed to this match."
"Dad, you'll see I made the right choice." Vivian grabs the documents and looks down her nose at me. "When you're drowning in family business, remember to come beg me for help. Maybe if I'm in a good mood, I'll let you serve drinks at my parties."
I don't even look up. "Can't wait."
Soon enough she'll be enjoying life locked in her "perfect husband's" basement. And me? I'll probably just be stressed about having too much money in the family vault.
What a shame.
Vivian and Marco's engagement party is held at the Belvedere estate on the east side—Rossi family property. Representatives from all the families gather, cigar smoke and champagne mingling in the air.
Vivian's wearing a custom gown, arm linked with Marco's as they weave through the crowd. She's radiating victory, practically bursting with pride.
They walk up to me. Vivian raises her glass. "Sienna, meet your future brother-in-law. So, how's managing the family going? I heard you've been running around like crazy—negotiations, internal conflicts, assassination attempts..." She takes a sip of champagne, her eyes full of pity. "Why work so hard? Isn't it smarter to find a powerful man to lean on? Too bad not everyone's that lucky."
She looks down at me like she's doing charity.
Marco nods politely. But when Vivian talks, I see his brow furrow slightly.
The irritation's already starting. She's too loud, offends people too easily.
Vivian doesn't notice at all. She tosses out a few more mocking remarks, then loops her arm through Marco's and walks away.
I pick up my glass and start talking to the family representatives—the key figures she offended in my past life, the ones who left us isolated and helpless. This time, I won't make the same mistakes.
Just as I'm talking to one of the elders, the ballroom suddenly goes quiet.
Everyone stops talking, eyes turning toward the center of the hall.
