Reborn to Mafia Queen

Giulia's POV

The plane was going down.

I could feel the heat of the flames against my skin, smell the smoke choking my lungs. Through the screaming passengers and the engines failing, all I could think about was how fucking stupid I'd been.

Alessandro's face flashed in front of me. "I'm sorry, Giulia," he'd said, bags already packed, mistress waiting in the car. "You were never what I wanted."

And Sofia. God, Sofia.

The news came three days ago, right before I got on this doomed flight to chase down my worthless ex. My baby sister, sweet and trusting Sofia, found dead in that isolated estate where Dante had dumped her. The police called it an accident. I knew it wasn't.

The plane shuddered. Someone grabbed my arm—

I woke up gasping, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would break through my ribs.

Moonlight came through cream curtains. The jasmine scent from the garden below.

My childhood bedroom.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, hands shaking so badly I almost dropped it. The screen lit up and I stared at the date until my eyes watered.

Seven days before the engagement party.

I scrambled out of bed and rushed to the vanity mirror to check myself out. My reflection in the vanity mirror showed a younger face, skin still smooth without the grief lines.

I'd been sent back.

I sat there for God knows how long, my brain going a million miles an hour. Sofia was alive. And I had something I never thought I'd get.

Another shot at this.

This time, nobody controls my fate. Sofia, I swear I'll protect you.

I got out of bed and opened my laptop, pulling up everything I remembered about the engagement party. The Valentino family tradition was simple and brutal: the grooms chose their brides publicly, cementing alliances between our family and the Romanos and De Lucas. Last time, Alessandro's family picked me, the smart, capable daughter who could help rebuild their dying empire. And Dante's stepmother Bianca set him up with Sofia, deliberately giving him a weak wife who couldn't threaten her son Marco's position.

If I was going to change everything, I needed to move now. I scrolled through my contacts and found what I needed, a number I'd memorized in my old life but never had the guts to use.

Dante's private line.

My finger hung over the call button. Too easy to trace. Instead, I opened my messages and typed one word, his personal code that only his inner circle knew: Inferno.

Then: I have information about your stepmother's plans. Meet me at your club in one hour. Come alone.

I didn't wait for a reply. I was already pulling a black dress from my closet, something simple but commanding. In my previous life, I learned way too late that in Dante's world, you project strength from the first second or you get eaten alive.

The drive to Manhattan took forty minutes. I told the family driver I couldn't sleep and needed to clear my head, not a total lie.

The club was in Tribeca, unmarked except for a small brass plaque: "Paradiso." The irony wasn't lost on me. Hell's paradise.

The guard at the door was huge, built like he could snap me in half without breaking a sweat. He stepped in front of me, one hand going toward the gun I knew he kept under his jacket.

"Private club, lady. Members only."

"Inferno," I said clearly. "Tell him Giulia Valentino is here."

His eyes went wide for half a second. He spoke into a radio, waited, then moved aside. "Top floor. He's expecting you."

The elevator felt like descending into actual hell. When the doors opened, smoke and aged whiskey hit me in the face.

Several guys in suits turned to look at me, hands sliding toward weapons like it was reflex.

And there, right in the center, sat Dante De Luca.

He looked younger than my memories, instead of the exhausted forty-something who'd barely glanced at Sofia in my previous life. His dark eyes were sharp, calculating, as he waved his guys down with a casual gesture.

"Gentlemen, give us the room."

They left without a word, though I felt their stares on my back the whole time. When the door shut, Dante leaned back in his chair, one hand around a glass of whiskey.

"Valentino's eldest daughter," he said, his voice rough and smooth at the same time. "Breaking into my club in the middle of the night. Should I be flattered or worried?"

I walked over and took the seat across from him without being asked. "Neither. You should be grateful."

His eyebrow went up a fraction. "That so?"

I reached up and took off my diamond earrings, a gift from my father, and put them on the table between us. "Good faith. What I'm about to tell you is worth way more."

Dante picked up one earring, looking at it in the dim light. "I'm listening."

"Your stepmother is going to pick my sister Sofia for you at the engagement party." I kept my voice steady. "Sofia is twenty-three, loves romantic poetry, cries at sad movies, and has never touched a gun. She's terrified of blood and thinks your family business is 'import-export.' She's exactly what Bianca wants for you, a pretty, useless wife who won't get in Marco's way."

Something flickered in Dante's eyes.

"And you're telling me this because...?"

I leaned forward, meeting his stare. "Because I'm offering you something better. At the engagement party, I'm going to break the rules and announce that I choose you as my fiancé first, before you and Alessandro get to choose between us. And I need you to say yes."