He Was Doomed to Die Until I Married Him

Isabella POV

The cold drizzle of October felt like a fitting shroud for the Falcone estate's overgrown rose garden. Ten days before my scheduled wedding, Leo Gallo stood before me, his tailored pinstripe suit immaculate, his umbrella shielding him from the rain that soaked my dark mourning dress.

"The wedding proceeds as Don Moretti commanded," Leo said, his voice dripping with arrogant pity. "But let us be clear, Isabella. Angelica Russo will remain by my side. She understands the business, the pharmaceuticals we need for the new bootlegging routes. She will hold the real power in our home. You will be my wife in name only."

He wanted my family's docks and our remaining loyal Soldiers, but he also wanted to publicly humiliate me to break my spirit. He thought I was just a powerless orphan with no other options. He didn't know that I remembered.

In a chilling flash of a past life-a future that had already happened-I had seen the absolute truth. I knew Leo and his aunt, Sofia Rossi, had orchestrated the brutal ambush that left my parents dead in a pool of their own blood and crippled Damien Moretti, the Don's eldest son.

I buried my burning need for Vendetta beneath a mask of hollow defeat. "As you wish, Leo."

He smiled, a victor claiming his spoils, completely oblivious to the storm of vengeance I was already unleashing.

I left him in the rain and retreated into the shadowed halls of the Falcone study. Beneath the imposing oil portrait of my late father, my six-year-old brother, Luca, huddled in an oversized leather armchair. Chelsea, my loyal maid, stood rigidly beside him, her face pale with worry.

"Chelsea," I said, my voice turning to ice as I wiped the rain from my cheek. "Send a message to the Moretti estate. Directly to the Mafia Queen, Gabriella. Tell her I am breaking my engagement to Leo Gallo. I wish to marry her son, Damien, instead."

Chelsea gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Luca scrambled out of the chair, his small hands grabbing my damp skirt with a child's pure terror. "No, Bella! You can't marry the crippled monster! Everyone says anyone tied to him is cursed. They say he's going to die!"

I knelt, taking his trembling hands in mine. The world believed the Underboss was a broken man waiting for the grave. But my memories told a different story.

"Perhaps," I whispered, looking deeply into my brother's tear-filled eyes, "he won't."

The transition from the decaying warmth of my home to the suffocating opulence of Don Luciano Moretti's office was jarring. Less than two hours after my message was sent, I found myself kneeling on a priceless Persian rug in the inner sanctum of the family villa. The air was thick with the scent of expensive Cuban cigars and the metallic tang of absolute power.

To my left, Gabriella Moretti clutched her pearl necklace, her eyes shining with a desperate, ferocious hope. I was offering her broken son a lifeline, a loyal wife when the rest of the Five Families had written him off as a corpse. She had already promised me her protection the moment I walked through the doors.

But the man behind the massive mahogany desk did not share his wife's relief. Don Luciano Moretti stared down at me, his dark eyes devoid of mercy. The silence in the room was heavy enough to crush bone.

"I gave a personal decree that you would marry the Gallo boy, Isabella," Luciano's voice was a low, lethal rumble that vibrated through the floorboards. He leaned forward, the heavy gold rings on his fingers catching the dim light. "And now you kneel in my sanctuary, attempting to use my crippled son to defy your Don."

Isabella POV

"I am not defying you, Don Luciano," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the terrifying weight of his glare. "I am protecting the honor of your original decree."

Luciano's eyes narrowed, a silent warning that I was treading on thin ice.

"Leo Gallo intends to parade his mistress, Angelica Russo, as the true head of his household," I continued, the words tasting like ash but necessary for my survival. "He plans to publicly dishonor me, and by extension, the Don who arranged the union. To marry him now would be a stain on both the Falcone and Moretti names. Marrying your eldest son-a man of true royal blood-is the only way to salvage that honor."

"Luciano, please," Gabriella Moretti suddenly spoke, her voice trembling with a mother's fierce desperation. She stepped forward, her hands clasped. "She is offering Damien a loyal wife. A chance to rebuild. The other families whisper that our son is a lost cause. Let this girl prove them wrong."

The Don stared at his wife, his jaw clenching at her emotional outburst, before his cold, calculating gaze snapped back to me. He saw the political advantage instantly. By tying the last Falcone to his crippled son, he secured my family's lucrative Brooklyn docks without rewarding the arrogant Leo Gallo.

"You wish to tie your fate to a useless man, Isabella?" Luciano sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Fine. The decree is made. You will marry Damien. But know this-when you drown in the mess you have chosen, do not expect me to mourn at your funeral."

"Thank you, Don Luciano," I murmured, bowing my head to hide the dangerous spark of triumph in my eyes.

By the time I returned to the Falcone estate, the rain had stopped, leaving behind a bitter, biting chill. The moment I stepped into the overgrown courtyard, I knew something was wrong.

Guido, the loyal old Soldier who had served my father for decades, was pacing the cobblestones, his hand resting dangerously on the grip of his holstered pistol. Beside him, Chelsea was wringing her apron, her face flushed with indignation.

At their feet sat two small crates wrapped in cheap, gaudy pink silk.

"What is this?" I asked, my blood running cold.

"A gift from Mrs. Gallo," Guido spat, his voice shaking with raw fury. "A mistress's dowry. They sent it to mock you, *Signorina*. To tell the world that a Falcone without a powerful husband is nothing but a whore. Give me the word, and I will go to their townhouse and demand satisfaction in blood."

I stared at the pathetic pink silk. The Gallos thought I was broken. They thought I was a powerless orphan they could humiliate before stealing my inheritance.

"No, Guido," I said, my voice eerily calm.

"But *Signorina*-"

"Take them inside and store them," I ordered, my eyes locking onto the old Soldier's. "On the day Leo Gallo marries his precious Angelica, we will have these crates returned to them. Delivered by a brass band, for all of New York's Five Families to see."

Guido paused, the anger in his eyes slowly shifting into a dark, understanding respect. He nodded once and picked up the crates.

I walked past them and entered the shadowed study. Luca was still curled in the leather armchair beneath our father's portrait. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the hardest part of my plan.

"In ten days," I announced to the room, "I am marrying Damien Moretti."

Chelsea gasped, dropping the silver tray she had been holding. Luca let out a terrified sob and scrambled toward me, burying his face in my skirt.

"No, Bella! Please!" Luca cried, his small frame shaking. "He's a monster! They say he's going to die!"

I dropped to my knees, ignoring the dampness of my dress, and took his face in my hands. "Listen to me, *mio piccolo leone* (my little lion)," I whispered fiercely, forcing him to look into my eyes. "I will not die. I swear it on our parents' graves. I will live, and I will thrive, and I will hold our enemies at bay until you are old enough to take your rightful place as the head of this family."

I stood up and turned to Guido and Chelsea. "Until the Don makes the announcement, absolute Omertà. If the Gallos learn I am taking the docks to the Morettis, they will try to slaughter us before the wedding."

I smoothed down my mourning dress, my mind already calculating the next move. "Tomorrow, we go to the tailor shop on Fifth Avenue. Luca needs a new suit for the wedding, and we must show the city that the Falcones are not hiding in the shadows."

Isabella POV

The scent of cedar and rich wool in the Fifth Avenue tailor shop was a stark contrast to the decaying dampness of my family's estate. I held a swatch of navy blue cashmere against Luca's small shoulders. He looked up at me, his dark eyes wide, trying so hard to be the brave man of the house I needed him to be.

Looking at his innocent face, my mind slipped into the dark, suffocating abyss of my past-life memories. I knew exactly what had transpired last night in the stuffy, over-decorated living room of the Gallo townhouse. I could almost smell Mrs. Gallo's cloying perfume and the stale cigar smoke.

They had feasted on the idea of the Falcone legacy like starving vultures. Old Man Gallo had salivated over my mother's $100,000 trust fund and her rare diamonds, while his wife gleefully suggested using Luca as a hostage to keep me obedient. And Leo? He had sat there, indifferent to my existence, caring only about claiming my father's Brooklyn docks to pay off his massive gambling debts and secure his Caporegime status. His plan was to lock me away in a gilded cage while he elevated his mistress, Angelica Russo, to rule his home.

That was why I had to strike first.

I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the shop. It was just past noon. Right now, across the bridge in Brooklyn, the Gallos were throwing a lavish party at their Social Club. They had gathered their Soldiers and Associates, foolishly expecting Don Luciano to publicly reward them with my family's territory.

But I knew the Don's cruel sense of humor. His loyal butler, Donny, would be arriving right about now, not with deeds or cash, but with two small boxes. For Leo, a Bible and silver cutlery engraved with the words *Loyalty* and *Humility*. For Angelica, a heavy antique book on female chastity. It was a public execution of their pride-a lethal warning from the Don that their greed had overstepped his command.

The bell above the tailor shop door didn't just ring; it violently chimed as the heavy glass door was shoved open. The roar of a red Duesenberg engine echoed from the street outside.

"Isabella Falcone!"

The scream shattered the elegant quiet of the shop. I turned slowly, dropping the cashmere swatch.

Leo Gallo stood in the doorway, his tailored suit rumpled, his face flushed with a manic, humiliated rage. Angelica Russo hovered just behind him, her usually composed features tight with barely concealed fury.

Luca flinched, but before I could push him behind me, my brave six-year-old brother stepped forward, spreading his small arms wide to shield me from the man who was supposed to be my husband.

Leo didn't even look at the boy. He closed the distance between us in three long strides, his hand shooting out to wrap around my wrist in a bruising, vicious grip.

"You vicious *puttana* (whore)," Leo spat, his voice trembling with a wrath that bordered on madness. "You think you're clever? You think you can spread your legs for the Don to steal my territory and humiliate me in front of my own men?"

I didn't flinch. I didn't pull away. I simply stared into the eyes of the man who had once planned to destroy my family, letting the ice in my veins freeze the air between us.