Rising From Ashes: The Architect's Comeback

I woke up in a sterile hospital room with no memory of the lethal-looking man pacing outside the glass. My friend told me he was Dante Moretti, the Underboss of Chicago, and the fiancé I had supposedly worshipped for seven years. But the truth shattered me faster than the crash did. When our convoy was ambushed and the car caught fire, Dante didn't pull me out. He chose to save Valeria—the widow of a soldier he felt guilty about—leaving me to burn in the backseat. He called it a "tactical decision." I called it a death sentence. I thought losing my memory was a curse, but it was a gift. It stripped away the delusion of love. I saw a man who treated me like a useful piece of furniture. I saw a rival in Valeria who smirked while taking my job and my place. When she set a room on fire to frame me, Dante saved her again, leaving me to choke on the smoke. He even branded me a thief in front of the entire Commission to protect her lies. He thought I would always be there, the obedient statue waiting for his scraps. He was wrong. I fled to New York and walked straight into the arms of his sworn enemy, Enzo Falcone. A man who didn't just promise to protect me, but walked through fire to do it. Months later, when Dante finally realized the truth and crawled back to me in the rain, begging for a second chance, I looked him dead in the eye. "Forgetting you was the only peace I ever knew." I took Enzo’s hand, letting Dante see exactly what he had lost. "Remembering you just confirmed that you are a mistake I will never make again."

Chapters

Chapter 8

Sienna Vitiello POV

The Moretti Estate blazed against the night sky, a fortress bracing for a coronation.

A parade of luxury cars lined the driveway. The air was heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and roasted meat.

I entered through the servant’s entrance.

I wasn't the future Mrs. Moretti anymore. I was a ghost.

I wore a black dress with long sleeves, a high neck, and a plunging open back.

It looked like mourning attire.

I slipped into the ballroom, sticking to the shadows that clung to the perimeter.

I saw them immediately.

Dante and Valeria.

They were standing near the orchestra, holding court.

Valeria was wearing a red dress that demanded attention. She was laughing, her hand resting possessively on Dante’s chest.

He looked... content.

He looked like a man who had everything he wanted.

My father was there, talking to the Don. They were laughing.

They didn't know yet.

They didn't know the alliance was dead.

I found Giulia near the chocolate fountain.

"Sienna!" she squealed, nearly tackling me in a tight hug. "You came!"

"Happy birthday, G," I whispered, pressing a small velvet box into her hand.

It was a pair of diamond earrings I had designed myself. The last thing I created before I lost my memory.

She opened it and gasped.

"They’re beautiful. But... why do you look like you’re saying goodbye?"

"Because I am."

Her face fell.

"Sienna, don't. Dante is just being an idiot. He’ll come around."

"He won't," I said, my voice hollow. "And I don't want him to."

The noise of the party began to swell, suffocating me.

"I need air," I told her.

I retreated to one of the guest rooms on the second floor. It was quiet here.

I sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the muffled thrum of music from below.

The door creaked open.

I expected Giulia.

It was Valeria.

She slipped inside and turned the lock with a sharp click.

"Hiding?" she asked, her voice mocking.

I stood up.

"Get out, Valeria."

She walked toward me, running her hand along the antique dresser.

"You know," she said, picking up a heavy silver candelabra. "I always hated you. Even when my husband was alive."

"Why?" I asked. "I never did anything to you."

"Because you were perfect," she spat. "The perfect Vitiello princess. And I was just a soldier’s wife."

She stepped closer.

"But now? Now I have everything. I have your job. I have your man."

"He’s not a prize, Valeria," I said calmly. "He’s a job. And you’re welcome to him."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You think you’re better than me?"

"I think I’m free," I said.

She laughed, a harsh, brittle sound.

"You’re nothing. You’re just a failed investment."

She shoved me.

I stumbled back, hitting the heavy curtains.

"Don't touch me," I warned.

She shoved me again, harder.

I grabbed her wrist.

She shrieked and swung the candelabra.

It hit my shoulder with a dull thud of pain.

I pushed her back.

She stumbled, her heels catching on the rug.

She flailed, losing her grip on the heavy silver.

It crashed onto the floor.

The lit candles rolled onto the heavy velvet drapes.

With a terrifying whoosh, the fabric caught fire instantly. The flames licked up the dry material, hungry and fast.

"Fire!" Valeria screamed.

She scrambled toward the door.

It was locked. She fumbled with the latch, panic making her clumsy.

The room filled with acrid smoke.

I coughed, my eyes stinging.

I moved to help her with the door.

She looked at me, her eyes wide with malice.

She shoved me backward, toward the burning curtains.

"Stay there!" she screamed.

She got the door open and slipped through.

Before I could follow, the door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place.

"Dante!"

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