I took three bullets saving the mafia boss’s six-year-old son—and when I woke up, his “reward” was five terrifying words: “You’re going to be my wife.”

The entire underworld came to watch Victor Romano bury his brother-in-law.

Men who hated him kissed his cheek. Women who feared him touched Adriana’s hands and whispered prayers. Reporters gathered beyond the cemetery gates, pretending this was a society tragedy instead of a mafia fault line splitting open in public.

I should not have gone.

The doctors said no. Caleb said no. Victor said absolutely not.

But Adriana came to my room that morning wearing a black veil and eyes swollen from not sleeping.

“I need you there,” she said.

That surprised me.

“You hate me.”

“I don’t have the energy today.”

“Why me?”

She looked toward the hallway, where Victor was speaking to Dante.

“Because whoever is doing this wants me isolated from my brother. If I stand beside you, that fails.”

So I went.

Victor argued for seven minutes, then realized I had already put on the black dress Celeste sent.

“You are impossible,” he said.

“I’ve been told I’m useful in emergencies.”

His eyes darkened with memory.

At the cemetery, Victor kept one hand near my back without touching me. Leo stayed home under guard, which had made him furious. He had drawn me a tiny shield on a sticky note and pressed it into my palm before I left.

I kept it in my glove.

The priest spoke. Adriana stood like stone. Luca’s mother sobbed dramatically enough to make three men roll their eyes.

Then a woman stepped out from behind a mausoleum.

She wore a gray coat, black gloves, and a veil that hid most of her face.

But Victor recognized her.

So did Adriana.

I saw both of them stop breathing.

The woman lifted her veil.

She was beautiful. Pale. Dark-haired. Familiar in a way that made my skin turn cold.

Because I had seen her face in a photograph.

Not exactly.

Older now. Sharper. Alive with bitterness.

Adriana whispered, “No.”

Victor’s hand went to his gun.

The woman smiled.

“Hello, husband.”

The cemetery vanished beneath me.

Husband.

Alessia Romano stood ten yards away from her own grave.

Adriana staggered.

Victor did not move.

His face looked dead.

“Alessia,” he said.

The name barely escaped him.

Men around us shifted, confused, alarmed. Some reached inside their jackets. Dante gave a sharp signal, and Victor’s guards formed a perimeter.

Alessia’s eyes moved to me.

“And you must be the new wife.”

My mouth went dry.

Victor stepped in front of me.

Alessia laughed softly. “Still protective of what belongs to you.”

“You’re dead,” Adriana whispered.

“No,” Alessia said. “I was erased.”

Victor’s voice was dangerous. “Who are you?”

That question broke something in her expression.

“You really don’t know?”

“Alessia died.”

“You saw a body burned beyond recognition. You accepted a ring, a scarf, dental records arranged by men who worked for your father before they worked for you.”

Victor went utterly still.

His father had been dead for years, but his shadow apparently still had teeth.

Adriana covered her mouth.

Alessia took a step closer.

“I tried to leave you, Victor. Your enemies caught me first. They offered me a choice. Die publicly, or live hidden and let my son survive.”

Victor’s eyes turned glassy.

“Leo.”

At the sound of his name, Alessia’s face changed.

Motherhood cracked through the revenge.

“My baby,” she whispered.

Victor shook his head once. “No.”

“You kept him in that mausoleum you call a home.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“And now you have replaced me with the maid who took bullets for him. Poetic.”

I found my voice. “I didn’t replace you.”

Alessia’s gaze cut to me.

“No. You survived where I didn’t.”

The words were not an insult.

They were grief.

Then a shot rang out.

The bullet struck the stone angel above Alessia’s head, exploding marble into white dust.

Chaos erupted.

Victor shoved me down behind a headstone. Dante tackled Alessia behind another. Men shouted. Guns appeared. Mourners screamed and scattered across the cemetery grass.

A second shot cracked.

Then a third.

Sniper.

Victor covered my body with his, just as I had covered Leo.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

I looked past his shoulder and saw Adriana crawling toward Alessia.

Toward the sister-in-law she had buried.

Toward the ghost who had returned.

Another bullet hit the ground inches from Adriana’s hand.

“Victor!” I screamed.

He turned.

Adriana froze in the open.