Rising From Ashes: The Architect's Comeback

From the back cover

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."