My sister has always dreamed of getting rich overnight.
Driven by her ambition, she orchestrated a deliberate accident, gravely wounding the only grandson of the Moretti Family, the most feared name in New York. A steel bar pierced the child's chest. She played the good Samaritan, rushing him to the hospital and even giving 800cc of her own blood, a blood debt repaid for a crime she herself had set in motion.
She looked selfless, doing a good deed without leaving her name. Yet the moment the child was out of danger, she slipped from the hospital, certain her act of "mercy" would shame the Family into a far greater tribute.
Not only did I fail to stop her, I stood watch in the corridor, making sure no one caught her.
In my previous life, I had seen her scheming down at the docks. I tried to talk her out of it, warning her that people like us could not afford to cross the Moretti Family.
She pretended to listen and even praised me for having sense.
But on the way back, she detoured to the warehouse yard and pushed me from the roof of the steel plant.
Steel bars ran me through, and I died with my eyes wide open, full of regret.
She pinned it all on me, swearing I had ruined her one chance at easy money.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the accident.
This time, I am going to let her dig her own grave.
——
The Moretti heir was being worked on behind the doors of the operating room.
Gemma Falcone, my sister, stood by the window, her blood running into the child to save him.
Her delicate face wore a perfectly arranged worry, and her expensive dress was smeared with blood.
To anyone watching, she looked like a selfless savior, not the one who had arranged the whole thing.
After the nurse drew her blood, Gemma pressed on, anxious:
"Is that enough? If not, take more! I'll give as much as he needs!"
"The boy's so young, you have to save him! Otherwise I'll never have peace the rest of my life!"
The nurse, swayed by her face and her apparent kindness, assured her the child needed no more, that what she'd given was already more than enough. Gemma made a show of deep gratitude, bowing her thanks.
When asked her name, she steered the question away with practiced ease. It was all part of the plan. Her details were already on the transfusion receipt. She wanted to seem like a woman who saved a life and asked nothing, knowing that would force the Moretti Family, a name that wanted for nothing, to press far more upon her in return.
After all, tribute and laundered cash were the one thing the Morettis never lacked.
The moment the nurse vanished behind the operating room doors, Gemma dropped the act.
She seized my arm, gripping hard enough to make me wince.
"From now on, keep your mouth shut. You know what to say and what not to say," she hissed.
"We're in this together. If the Moretti Family ever finds out what I did, you won't walk away from it either!"
She expected me to object, the way I always had before.
But this time I only loosened her hand from my arm and smiled.
"Don't worry. You're my sister. Who else would I stand by, if not you?"
"When the Morettis pay you off, start your own outfit. Just give me a front desk job so I can get by."
Gemma looked at me, satisfied, and gave a little snort as she wiped the blood from her hands.
"What Mamma and Papa say is true. You're useless. You'll spend your whole life working for other men. Without me you'll never set foot in a decent house, no matter how hard you break your back!"
I nodded meekly, playing the part of someone small and frightened.
In my last life, my resistance had bought me a gruesome death.
This time, I had a different plan.
Not only would I keep from stopping her, I would help her along.
I wanted to watch her ruin unfold the moment she crossed the Moretti Family.
Gemma, blind to any of it, smirked at the look on my face.
"Stop sniveling. Just looking at you makes me sick!"
"When I have my own outfit, I'll make you my secretary. I'll even put a driver on you. That ought to be enough to keep you comfortable the rest of your life!"
With that, she pulled me toward the elevator.
And sure enough, when the doors slid open, we came face-to-face with Lorenzo Moretti, the Don of the most feared Family in New York.
