I Came Back from the Dead to Tame the Mafia Heir

When I heard the news that Michael had slit his wrists for love, I did feel sad for a moment.

But I wasn't so full of myself to think he did it for me.

I was just really upset—his mom wasn't going to stiff me on the final payment, was she?

There was still fifty million dollars left!

"He didn't slit his wrists over you, did he?" my only good friend asked.

I laughed. "Who kills themselves over a toy going missing?"

"Aren't you worried he'll find out you're still alive?"

I was a little worried.

Michael was incredibly handsome, but also genuinely crazy.

Once he found out I left him because I took money, he'd definitely find a way to kill me.

He didn't tolerate any betrayal.

That's why I chose to fake my death and leave.

"Don't jinx me—I won't let him find out I'm alive!"

A year later, the company sent me back home. I returned nervously.

At the welcome banquet, I mingled with a wine glass in hand, trying to expand the company's client base.

After several glasses, I was getting tipsy and was about to have my assistant help me to my room to rest.

But my assistant whispered to me: "Ms. Taylor, there's someone in the corner who's been staring at you."

"Who?" I turned to look toward the corner she mentioned.

In the corner of the banquet hall, shadows covered a man.

He sat alone on a sofa, casually playing with a bracelet in his hand, his deep eyes fixed on me.

My face went white instantly.

It was Michael.

The bracelet in his hand was one I'd bought on the street for fifty dollars, though I'd told him I made it myself.

I didn't expect he'd kept it all this time.

I was screwed.

Would Michael's mother Elizabeth Perez make me return the money?

I made a snap decision and turned to leave.

Just as I turned into an empty corridor, a powerful force grabbed my wrist.

The world spun, and I was slammed hard against the marble wall.

A heavy smell of blood mixed with suffocating perfume instantly surrounded me.

Michael looked down at me: "Isabella."

"You're not dead."

His tone carried a grinding hatred, as if he'd pull out a gun any second.

Was he going to stuff me in a bag and dump me in the ocean?

My heart was racing, my brain working fast: "You've got the wrong person..."

"Ha."

Michael laughed quietly, his hot breath spraying against my neck, making me itch a little.

His fingertips slowly traced my cheek. "Still lying to me? I'd recognize you even if you turned to ash."

"Took a hundred million dollars from my mom and lived it up abroad, huh?"

If he hadn't mentioned the money, maybe we could've talked.

But since he did, I was screwed.

Just as I was about to make excuses, he covered my mouth and nose with his hand.

My head went fuzzy, my eyelids getting heavier by the second.