My Eight Years as the Don’s Substitute

At dawn in the Mercer estate, before the morning mist had even cleared, my Aunt Carmela burst into my room.

Just as she had eight years ago when she delivered me to this gilded cage, she was putting on her usual act for the sake of the family's interests.

"Vera, my dear niece, you can't leave."

She clutched at the hem of my dress, her tears flowing with perfect timing.

"The Rossi family's business in Brooklyn is entirely dependent on our connection to Don Mercer. If you anger him, we'll all end up dead in the streets!"

"Your father is still in a hospital, kept alive only because Lucian pays the bills! If you provoke the Don, we'll all end up in concrete shoes at the bottom of the Hudson!"

"Axel still needs you. How can you be so selfish?"

Calling me selfish?

Looking at this woman I was supposed to call family, all I wanted to do was laugh.

"Auntie, in these eight years, have you ever once asked me if I was even living like a human being in this house?"

Carmela froze, her eyes darting away.

A commotion rose from downstairs. A sports car pulled up to the fountain.

Then, the click-clack of high heels on marble floors grew closer.

A woman with flawless makeup walked in.

She had the exact same shade of blonde hair as my sister; even the curve of her lips had been practiced to perfection.

For a moment, seeing her, I was almost in a daze.

Over the past eight years, Lucian would occasionally bring home a woman who bore some resemblance to my sister. She was the twenty-ninth.

She looked more like my sister than any of the others before her. More than me.

"Aunt Vivian!"

Before I could react, a small figure darted past me.

Axel threw himself into Vivian's arms, nuzzling affectionately against her expensive silk shawl.

"You're finally here! This house is so stuffy, it has a cheap smell everywhere."

He shot a disdainful glance toward my room.

The maids were whispering in the hallway, their voices just loud enough to reach my ears.

"Is that the Vivian woman who's supposed to look even more like the late Donna? She certainly looks more refined than that bastard, Vera."

"Of course. Vera is a cheap replacement at best. Now that a better counterfeit has arrived, it's time for the bed-warmer to get lost."

Axel took Vivian's hand. "Aunt Vivian, your perfume smells so good. Not like some people, who always stink of paint and turpentine."

"Papa was right. Someone with no breeding isn't fit to be the mistress of the Mercer family."

My fingers tightened into fists. Though I was long since numb, the words still stung.

I remembered eight years ago, when Axel wasn't even weaned. He'd wake from nightmares every night, and I would hold him for hours, humming Italian lullabies to soothe him back to sleep.

The first name he learned to say wasn't "Papa." It was pointing at me and saying, "Vera."

Back then, he would wrap his arms around my neck and declare, "Vera, you're the best in the world!"

I honestly don't know when everything changed.

The child who once clung to me was gone.

Standing before me was a "little Don," the heir to a billion-dollar Mafia empire.

At some point, Vivian had made her way upstairs and was now standing beside me.

She put on a show of comforting me. "Miss Vera, don't mind him. The little lion is just brutally honest."

"Since you're leaving, you should leave Axel's schedule behind. After all...caring for Don Mercer and Axel is my responsibility now."

I ignored her gloating and turned to face my dear aunt.

"See? There's never a shortage of women willing to climb into Lucian's bed, or to be Axel's stepmother."

"One more or one less of me here makes no difference."

Seeing my resolve, Carmela seemed to realize for the first time that the niece who had been obedient for eight years was gone. She dropped the act.

She shot to her feet and raised her hand.

The slap landed with full force. My cheek burned, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

"Ungrateful wretch!"

"Your father raised you! You will die in a Mercer bed earning money for this family if I say so!"

Carmela pointed a finger at my nose, her voice a torrent of abuse. "If the family hadn't sent you to Don Mercer to pay our debts, do you think an illegitimate girl like you would be living such a good life? You think you can just fly the coop now that you've grown wings?"

In their eyes, I was never family.

I was just currency for a blood debt, a bargaining chip to curry favor with the powerful.

Carmela raised her hand again, aiming for a second slap.

This time, I caught her wrist in mid-air.

"Enough."

I threw her hand back, my gaze as cold as ice.

"The Vera who could only cry and beg for mercy died eight years ago."

I took a deep breath and straightened my spine.

"I used eight years of my youth to warm Lucian's bed and slave away for his son. That debt has been paid in full, with interest. From now on, whether the Rossi family lives or dies has nothing to do with me."

Stunned by my sudden defiance, Carmela staggered back, still muttering curses under her breath.

I didn't look at her again. I turned to leave.

But as I turned, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Lucian was standing in the shadows of the hallway, an unlit cigar between his fingers.

His bottomless black eyes were locked on me.