Reborn into His Arms

Born into the most powerful mafia family in the city, I've had seven bodyguards since I was ten years old.

Seven heirs from allied families. Seven men trained to protect me. Seven potential husbands.

On my eighteenth birthday, I had to pick one and marry him.

Everyone knew I'd choose Dante Lucchese. How could I not? I'd been stupidly in love with that arrogant bastard since I was seven.

But I'll never choose him again.

Because I've already lived through what happens when I do.

The wedding. The explosion. Flames devouring my dress as I clawed at Dante's sleeve, begging him to help me.

He ripped his arm away.

And ran straight to Isabella—the pathetic little charity case my family took in, who always played the victim so perfectly.

"Serena, stop being selfish!" he shouted over the roar of the fire. "Isabella's hurt worse than you! I have to save her first!"

I screamed his name as he disappeared into the smoke with her in his arms.

The last thing I heard was Isabella crying. The last thing I felt was my skin burning.

Then—nothing.

Until I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the calendar on my bedroom wall.

Six months before the wedding.

The morning my father called me into his study to tell me it was time to choose.

This time, I crossed Dante's name off the list first.

This time, I chose Enzo Corleone—the quiet one who never said much, who everyone underestimated.

The one who died trying to pull me out of that fire.

So why the hell is Dante on his knees at my wedding to Enzo, tears streaming down his face, begging me to marry him instead?

Serena's POV

"Serena, have you decided? Which one of these seven men will you choose as your husband?"

My father's voice yanked me back from the memories of burning alive.

I jerked my head up and saw the list laid out in front of me. Seven names. Seven heirs from seven families.

Holy shit. I was reborn.

I was actually BACK on this godforsaken night.

The suffocating feeling still lingered in my throat. My skin could still feel the flames searing through it. I remembered Isabella's screams. I remembered Dante shaking off my hand. I remembered him running away with her in his arms without looking back once.

"Serena?" My father frowned.

I took a deep breath, grabbed the pen, and crossed out Dante Lucchese's name without hesitation. I pressed so hard the paper tore.

Then I wrote: Enzo Corleone.

My father stared at me in shock. "Are you sure? You've always liked Dante. Why the sudden—"

"I see him clearly now," I cut him off, my voice firm. "Dante Lucchese is a selfish bastard. I'd rather marry a dog than marry him."

My father fell silent for a few seconds, his frown deepening. "Serena, think this through. Even if you don't choose Dante, there are others. Enzo is loyal, yes, but he barely speaks. And the Corleone family isn't even in the top three among the seven families in terms of power."

"I don't need to think it through," I looked him straight in the eye. "I choose Enzo."

Because in my past life, only Enzo charged into the fire without hesitation, screaming my name until his voice went raw. I remembered his eyes—those deep eyes filled with desperation and determination.

He almost reached me. Almost.

My father stared at me for a long moment before finally sighing and nodding.

"If you insist, I'll approve it." He sealed my choice in a red wax envelope. "I'll announce it publicly at the engagement party in three days. Until then, keep it confidential."

"Thank you, Father."

After he left, I hadn't even had time to relax when the study door was shoved open.

Dante strode in without knocking. Isabella trailed behind him, head down, looking fragile and innocent as always.

"Serena, listen," Dante said in that entitled tone of his, "Isabella just graduated and has nowhere to go. I'm planning to let her stay in one of the manor's guest rooms. You don't mind, right?"

Isabella looked at me timidly, her eyes reddening. "Miss Falcone, if it's inconvenient for you, I can sleep in the basement—"

Watching this familiar scene unfold, all I felt was bone-deep coldness.

Isabella—the daughter of one of my father's men. Her father died in a shootout, and my father, out of pity, paid for her college education. In my past life, it started with this ridiculous sympathy. She gradually invaded my life, seduced my fiancé, and eventually got me killed.

"I mind."

Dante froze. "What?"

"I said I fucking MIND," I stood up. "The Falcone family runs a mafia empire, not a charity. My father already paid for her college. That's generous enough."

"Serena, since when did you become so cold-blooded?" Dante's voice rose. "She's just a poor girl!"

"Not my problem," I cut him off coldly. "And Dante, who the hell gave you permission to barge into my study without knocking? ENZO!"

Enzo walked in from outside. As one of the seven fiancé candidates, he'd been silently watching from the shadows for the past ten years, protecting me. Those deep eyes swept over Dante and Isabella, his hand moving to the gun at his waist.

"Show them out."

Dante's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you insane? Serena, we're about to get engaged!"

"That's what YOU think," I sneered, sitting back down without sparing him another glance. "Now get the hell off my property."

Enzo stepped forward, his hand already gripping the gun.

Dante's face turned iron-gray, but facing Enzo, he finally gritted his teeth and pulled Isabella toward the door. At the threshold, he turned back and said viciously, "Serena, you're going to regret this."

The door slammed shut.

I sank back into my chair, a cold smile playing on my lips.

In three days, he'd find out who should be regretting what.