Save Your Sweetheart, I’ll Bury You Instead
2.5k Views · Ongoing · Lily
When I woke up again, the air was torn apart by the staccato crack of gunfire.
I had been reborn. I was four months pregnant—exactly when Luca’s "first love" had conspired with a rival syndicate to ambush our estate.
In my previous life, the moment the shooting started, I hadn't hesitated. I immediately dialed my husband, the Don of the family.
To protect the heir growing inside me, he had decisively dragged me out of the line of fire first.
But the price was steep. His beloved Isabella took a bullet straight to the heart in the chaos, dying instantly.
Afterward, with bloodshot eyes, he told me he didn't blame me. He even stepped away from the mafia empire, remaining at the estate to play the perfect husband, solely to ensure I had a safe delivery.
I believed him. Until the day I gave birth.
During the sacred baptism in the family chapel, he tore off his mask and personally sent both me and our infant son to hell.
In my final moments, I would never forget the look in his eyes—a hatred that burned down to the bone.
"If it weren't for you, she never would have died," he had said, his voice ice-cold as I lay in a pool of my own blood. "She bled out that day. You and this bastard will bleed twice as much today."
I had been reborn. I was four months pregnant—exactly when Luca’s "first love" had conspired with a rival syndicate to ambush our estate.
In my previous life, the moment the shooting started, I hadn't hesitated. I immediately dialed my husband, the Don of the family.
To protect the heir growing inside me, he had decisively dragged me out of the line of fire first.
But the price was steep. His beloved Isabella took a bullet straight to the heart in the chaos, dying instantly.
Afterward, with bloodshot eyes, he told me he didn't blame me. He even stepped away from the mafia empire, remaining at the estate to play the perfect husband, solely to ensure I had a safe delivery.
I believed him. Until the day I gave birth.
During the sacred baptism in the family chapel, he tore off his mask and personally sent both me and our infant son to hell.
In my final moments, I would never forget the look in his eyes—a hatred that burned down to the bone.
"If it weren't for you, she never would have died," he had said, his voice ice-cold as I lay in a pool of my own blood. "She bled out that day. You and this bastard will bleed twice as much today."














































