I Died Before You Could Regret It

Celeste's POV

My adopted sister, Adriana, hit and injured Hadley Brooks—the prized mistress of Hartwell’s mafia boss, Dario Salvatore—and fled the scene.

Don Salvatore gave us exactly three days. And so, my husband and my parents all turned their eyes to me: Go take the fall for her. You always know how to fix things.

I agreed.

What they didn't know was that on that very same day, my doctor had given me my own deadline: I had, at most, three days left to live.

"How can you be so heartless? Are you really going to watch Adriana get chopped into pieces and thrown into the sea by the Salvatore family?!"

My husband, Callum, was screaming at me yet again, hysterical over Adriana.

Last night, Adriana was speeding, hit a woman crossing the street, and drove off. Unfortunately, that comatose woman was Hadley Brooks.

This morning, the Salvatore family’s ultimatum was delivered straight to both our doors: In three days, Don Dario will return to Hartwell and personally interrogate the culprit.

"Sister, please don't be mad at me..." Adriana shrank into our mother’s arms, tears rolling down her cheeks perfectly on cue. "If you hadn't thrown a tantrum and left the house last night, I wouldn't have gone out to look for you. I was just so worried about you, that's why I wasn't paying attention..."

She didn't finish. She didn't need to. Everyone in the room understood exactly what she meant.

"Did you hear that?!" My father slammed his teacup at my feet, shattering it. "You are the root of this mess! It is only right that you take the blame!"

They all knew exactly who Dario Salvatore was. The man controlled the docks and the underground, ruthless enough to silence Hartwell’s entire high society. People didn't even dare say his name aloud.

Yet these people—who once claimed to love me most—were now throwing me into that abyss without blinking an eye, all for Adriana.

"Just go," Callum softened his tone, though the calculation in his eyes was naked. "You’ve always been able to defuse any crisis. But Adriana can't—she's frail and timid. She’ll literally be scared to death if she goes."

What absurd logic. Because she was weak, her crime of hit-and-run should be paid for with my life.

"Mama Adriana!"

My six-year-old daughter, Gianna, ran down the stairs with her little drawing board. The moment she saw me, she froze, undisguised defensiveness flashing in her eyes. She bypassed me completely and threw herself straight into Adriana’s arms.

"Mama Adriana, why are you crying?" Her chubby little hands gently patted Adriana’s face.

That word—Mama—twisted into my chest like a rusty, blunt knife. I turned pale and bent down, reaching out. "Gianna—"

She dodged me like I burned her, hiding behind Adriana and glaring at me like a stranger. "Did you bully Mama Adriana again? She’s right. You’re just jealous of how close we are, so you bully her every day. You're a bad person."

"Gianna, no, that's not true!" Adriana immediately crouched down, feigning panic as she covered Gianna’s mouth. Her eyes were just the right amount of red when she looked up at me. "Sister, I was just trying to help share the burden of motherhood because you're always so busy and tired..."

I stared blankly at the embracing "mother and daughter," swallowing down the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat.

When I was twelve, I found a half-frozen orphan in the snow and brought her home. I told my parents: She has no one. We can be her family. I spent eighteen years protecting her like a real blood sister. And the result? Using her pathetic, helpless mask, she slowly cannibalized my parents' favoritism, stole my husband, and now even weaponized my own daughter against me.

My private doctor Philip’s voice echoed in my head, drowning out everything else:

"Mrs. Rhodes, terminal brain cancer. The cancer cells have entirely metastasized. You have a maximum of three days left."

Three days. I only had three days left.

"Fine. In three days, I will give Don Dario an answer." I heard my own voice ring out in the dead silent living room. It was as stagnant as still water.

The air froze for a second. Then, the tension in everyone's shoulders collectively dropped.

Callum walked over and patted my shoulder heavily, his tone dripping with condescending approval: "That's my girl. Adriana’s health is poor; you should bear more of the weight. That’s what a good wife does."

My mother, Patricia, wiped the corner of her eye. "Stepping up to protect your sister... now that sounds like the eldest daughter of the Vaughn family."

My father snorted coldly, picking up a new teacup. "At least you're finally acting a little less selfish."

I didn't look at them again. I simply turned and went back to my room.

The moment the door clicked shut, my spine gave out. My legs buckled, and I collapsed heavily onto the cold floor. The agonizing pain in my brain rushed in like millions of biting ants. Trembling, I fished out a pill bottle and swallowed the last few nearly-expired painkillers dry, not even bothering with water.

Curled up in the dark, biting my lip, I pulled my mouth into a cold smile that looked worse than a sob.

In three days, the untouchable Dario Salvatore would descend on Hartwell with overwhelming fury, waiting for me to grovel at his door and beg for mercy.

Unfortunately, all he would be waiting for was a cold corpse.