Chapter 2

Since that nightmare of an engagement banquet ended, I haven't had a single peaceful night's sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Riccardo's penetrating gaze and hear his meaningful words: "We'll meet again."

I know he's telling the truth. In our world, once two families begin marriage negotiations, they don't give up easily.

So I have to act.

The office door is heavier than I expected. I take a deep breath and push it open, walking toward my father seated behind his desk.

These past three days, I've been thinking about how to escape this predetermined fate. Now it's time to act.

"Dad, I want to apply to manage the casino business in Brooklyn."

Father looks up, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto me. I can tell he's still puzzling over why I reacted that way at the banquet three days ago.

"Brooklyn? That's just our most peripheral operation." He sets down the documents, his voice low. "Bianca, you've been off since you returned from the banquet. What happened?"

"I just think I should prove my worth," I struggle to stay calm while internally praying he'll agree, "instead of being a tool for marriage alliances."

As long as I can leave New York, leave him, I'd be willing to go anywhere, even the most remote place.

Father's brow furrows: "A tool? Do you know what you're saying?"

"I do." I meet my father's gaze, though my heart is trembling. If I can just get far enough away from him, maybe I can survive.

"What are you trying to escape from?" Father stands up, his voice carrying unquestionable authority. "Riccardo came personally to ask about you yesterday. Do you know what that means?"

My blood freezes instantly.

"He... came here?"

"Starting the day after the banquet, three days straight." Father walks toward me. "Each time very concerned about your health. When a man shows such interest in a woman, I don't need to explain what that means, do I?"

My fingers clench into fists. Concerned? That man doesn't care about anyone.

"I'm not merchandise, not a bargaining chip for transactions."

The moment I finish speaking, Father's palm slams heavily onto the desk.

"In our world, family interests come above everything!" His voice is as cold as a winter night's blade. "You'd better remember that, Bianca."

My heart sinks. I know this isn't advice—it's an order.

Night falls. In the private room at Montréal Restaurant, the dim lighting makes everyone's faces appear blurred.

I sit at the long table of the family gathering, mechanically cutting the steak on my plate. I had hoped to avoid this gathering, but Father's commands are not to be refused.

"Miss Corleone."

That voice is like ice water being poured over me. My hand stops instantly.

Riccardo takes the seat next to me, his black suit perfectly tailored, amber eyes glowing with dangerous light in the dim room.

Over these three days, he's clearly done more investigating and thinking. The probing in those eyes has transformed into certainty.

"You seem... afraid of me?" He slowly removes his gloves, his slender fingers stroking the black ring on his ring finger. "How interesting."

I struggle to maintain surface composure: "I just don't like being arranged."

"Arranged?" Riccardo chuckles softly, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Then you'll like being... settled with even less."

My breathing becomes rapid. "I don't understand what you mean."

Riccardo leans slightly, bringing himself close to my ear. That familiar cold presence makes my entire body rigid.

"Some debts always have to be paid," his voice like a whisper from hell. "Don't you agree, Bianca?"

The wine glass on the table trembles slightly in my shaking hand. That look in his eyes... exactly the same as the last night of my previous life. Cold, cruel, without a trace of mercy. He's also been reborn.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about." I struggle to control the tremor in my voice.

Riccardo straightens up, his lips curving into a meaningful smile. He raises his wine glass, lightly touching my glass rim.

"No matter, there's plenty of time." The crisp sound of clinking glasses echoes in the private room. "We have many... opportunities to settle accounts slowly."

For the rest of the gathering, I'm on pins and needles. Every time I feel Riccardo's gaze sweep over me, I can't help but tremble.

The gathering finally ends. I mechanically bid farewell to everyone, my heart feeling like it's fallen into an ice cellar.

On the pedestrian street, I deliberately slow my pace, letting others leave first. The night wind blows across my face, but all I feel is bone-chilling cold.

"Escaping is useless, isn't it?"

That familiar voice comes from behind me. I turn to see Riccardo leaning against a streetlamp, his amber eyes appearing particularly eerie in the lamplight.

"Are you following me?"

"Following?" He slowly approaches, each step like Death's footsteps. "I just want to confirm an... interesting hypothesis."

I take a step back: "What hypothesis?"

Riccardo stops three steps away from me, his gaze sharp as a hawk's.

"You're afraid of me, but not because of my reputation." His hand strokes his ring again. "You're afraid of me because you... remember something."

The air solidifies.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I desperately try to stay calm, but my voice is already beginning to shake.

"That night in the study, do you remember?" Riccardo takes a step forward, his voice pressed extremely low. "The temperature of the gun barrel—can you still feel it?"

My face instantly becomes pale as paper.

"You... you're insane."

"Insane?" Riccardo laughs softly, the sound carrying cruel pleasure. "Perhaps. But sometimes madmen can see truths others cannot."

He suddenly reaches out, his fingertip lightly stroking my temple.

"Here, where the bullet entered. Does it hurt?"

I feel the warmth of his fingertip, just like the coldness of that night's gun barrel. He even remembers the exact location.

"Do you remember that gunshot? It was very crisp, wasn't it?" His voice is light as a feather, yet heavy as lead.

I violently push away his hand, my heart beating so fast it nearly jumps from my chest.

"What exactly do you want?"

Riccardo withdraws his hand, adjusting his cufflinks with elegant, composed movements.

"Want?" He looks up, those amber pupils flickering with a hunter's gleam. "What I want has always been very simple."

"What?"

He leans close to me, his voice like a serpent's hiss:

"Revenge."

With that, he turns and leaves, his black silhouette quickly disappearing into the night. Only I remain standing under the streetlamp, trembling all over.

I finally confirm the most terrifying fact—he's also been reborn, carrying all the memories and hatred from our previous life.

And this time, I'm completely unprepared.

But at least... he's still not certain that I've also been reborn. That's my only advantage.

The night wind grows more biting. I hug my shoulders tightly.

Escaping... is it really useful? In my previous life, I also tried to escape, but still ended up dying in that study.

Perhaps this time I need to change my approach.

"If I can't escape, then..." I look toward the direction where Riccardo disappeared, a trace of dangerous light flashing in my eyes.