Mr. Mafia, Your Baby Girl is Six Years Older Than Me Chapter 01

Mr. Mafia, Your Baby Girl is Six Years Older Than Me Chapter 01

Evelyn’s POV

It wasn’t until I ended up in the Anderson family’s correctional facility on Ironspine Isle—dragged there alongside Don Anderson’s mistress—that I realized the “baby girl” he couldn’t stop talking about was a full six years older than me.

In the interrogation room, she wouldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t even get a full sentence out.

Then James walked in, and she threw herself into his arms.

“I didn’t do a thing, Don Anderson. She attacked me out of nowhere. I’m so sore.”

The same man who’d demanded his good-morning kiss from me just minutes ago in the manor barely glanced my way. No explanation. Just a cold order—”Handle it according to family law.” Then he left, taking his men with him.

I got three days in solitary for “assaulting a family member.”

When I came out, there was only one text from James on my phone:

[Stop going after her. Our business outside can’t afford the disruption.]

I couldn’t accept it.

Over the next six months, I fought back again and again. He personally sent me to the Anderson’s private correctional facility on Ironspine Isle nine times.

On the tenth time, he came to pick me up himself.

He looked at the bruises covering my body and curled his lips into a mocking grin.

“Evelyn. Learned your lesson yet? How many times have I put you in there now?”

“You’re no longer the untouchable princess of the Clarke family. Lose the attitude.”

He even stepped back, disgust flickering across his face, like he was afraid I’d throw myself at him and sob like I used to.

But I didn’t react. I just slid calmly into the back seat of the black Maybach.

Don Anderson’s eyes flickered with surprise, then settled into a satisfied smile.

“Apologize to Olivia properly when we get back. That nursery you mentioned, I’ll have someone start on it.”

My body went rigid. My hand drifted to my stomach.

He still didn’t know. The day they locked me up, I’d already lost the baby.

A dead child didn’t need a nursery.

And I didn’t need him anymore.

When I didn’t respond, he fished a velvet box out of his pocket and tossed it onto my lap.

“Your anniversary necklace. I brought it back.”

“You threw a fit over this last time, didn’t you? Olivia just borrowed it for a couple of days. Don’t be so petty.”

I stared blankly, racking my brain before I remembered—it had been our wedding anniversary a month ago.

That same day, he’d taken me up to the family’s private peak, Blackmoor Peak, to watch the sunrise.

In the dead of night, at ten degrees below zero, he’d left me stranded up there alone the whole night, just because Olivia had a bad dream.

The Tiffany custom necklace that was supposed to be mine ended up around Olivia’s neck instead.

Even now, that bone-deep cold still crept up my spine.

And he thought I was upset over a piece of jewelry.

I opened the box. The pigeon-blood ruby that should have gleamed like liquid fire was dull and lifeless. The chain even had cheap metal tarnish on it.

A fake. Plain as day.

I pushed the box back toward him, calm as still water.

“No need. If she likes it, let her keep it.”

James’s face darkened at my distance. He looked down, saw the cheap counterfeit, and his expression flickered with embarrassment.

“Olivia probably grabbed the wrong one. I’ll have a new one sent over.”

Then he let out a soft, indulgent laugh.

“She’s from Westbrink. Used to being frugal. Doesn’t have much exposure to finer things. Probably thought it was the real deal. Don’t blame her.”

The favoritism in those words was dripping off them.

Before, I would’ve flipped this car on the spot.

But now? I just smiled along and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. Girls from the slums tend to have… limited horizons.”

My composure threw him off. He stared for a few seconds.

Then he turned, reaching out to ruffle my hair.

“What’s with the easy attitude today? Finally learned?”

“Just don’t go after Olivia, and you can have whatever you want.”

“Everything in the Anderson family will be yours and the child’s someday. No need to fight with her. You’re Madre Anderson. Learn to be gracious.”

“The nursery will be ready by next month at the latest. I’m busy this week.”

I tilted my head, dodging his hand without making a scene.

This weekend was Olivia’s birthday.

Her things always came first. Always.

“Forget the nursery. Just drive. I’m tired.”

Halfway through the ride, James’s encrypted line buzzed.

Sharp. Urgent. That was Olivia’s custom ringtone.

My stomach turned before I could stop it.

For six months, that ringtone had been my nightmare. Constant. Relentless. Echoing through that freezing manor at all hours.

Olivia was a grown woman acting like a helpless baby. Every little thing, she’d call James.

A leaky pipe. Thunder weather. Even a delivery guy glancing at her too long.

She’d cry and plead for him to come hold her hand.

And James ate it up. Every. Single. Time.

How many times had I begged him not to go?

He’d just look at me, cold and detached.

“Evelyn, be sweet. Olivia’s not like you. She’s innocent. Fragile.”

He forgot that this “innocent” baby girl of his was six years older than me.

On the other end of the line, Olivia’s sobs came through crystal clear.

“Don Anderson, I was thinking of throwing Madre a welcome-home dinner tomorrow… but I’m so clumsy. I cut myself helping the staff prep the ingredients.”

“Don’t cry. I’m coming.” His voice switched to frantic urgency.

“Maybe you should take Madre Anderson home instead. I’ll be fine on my own. It’s just—there’s so much blood. I’m so scared.”

The word “blood” made him slam the brakes.

My body jerked forward, slamming into the seatback. The impact hit an old wound, and I winced.

He barked at the driver to turn around before he remembered I was still there.

“Evelyn, maybe you—”

“Go. I’ll take a cab.”

I cut him off and opened the door before he could finish.

I stepped to the curb, raised my hand, and flagged down a car without a second thought.

James hesitated, watching me. His mouth opened, then closed.

Finally, he gave the order to drive off.

The car sped away, and I didn’t look back.