Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison
Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift—a way to protect me from a worse fate.
Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes."
My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life.
They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous.
They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word.
It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash.
That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept."
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Chapter 5
Alessia POV:
My words hung in the air, sucking the oxygen from the room. The shock was a physical thing, a sudden drop in pressure that left everyone breathless. The silver letter opener clattered from Chiara's hand, landing with a muffled thud on the plush rug.
Victory felt hollow, like chewing on ash. Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked back up the stairs to the attic room. I didn't need their answer. I had already won, not by their rules, but by shattering the perfect, scripted drama of their lives.
That night, my phone rang. It was Dante.
"Alia, you have to understand," he began, his voice strained. "Chiara... she did something for me once. Something I can never repay."
"The bone marrow," I said, my voice flat. "She told you she was the anonymous donor who saved your life when you were a teenager."
He was silent for a moment. "Yes. How did you know?"
"Because she lied, Dante," I said, the words tasting like poison. "I was the donor. I was the perfect match."
I remembered the pain of the procedure, but it was nothing compared to the pain of my parents forcing me to keep it a secret. They'd insisted the family needed to elevate Chiara's status, to forge a bond with the Moretti heir that blood couldn't provide. So they took my sacrifice and gave it to her, a gift-wrapped lie.
"That's not true," Dante said, his voice turning hard, accusatory. "You're lying. You're doing this just to hurt her."
Of course he didn't believe me. My parents would have destroyed or altered any records. It was my word against the perfect, fragile girl he thought he owed his life to. Here, in this world they had built, my truth was worthless.
And in that moment, something inside me finally, completely, let go. The last ember of hope I'd secretly harbored for him, for us, was extinguished. There was nothing left to save.
A strange calm, vast and absolute, settled over me. I was free.
"Believe what you want," I said, and I hung up the phone.
I silenced it, set it on the dusty nightstand, and for the first time in seven years, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
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