My Mafia Brother’s Abandoned Little Moon Chapter 03

My Mafia Brother’s Abandoned Little Moon Chapter 03

Marco agreed to my request, but instead of making me his mistress, he asked me to cooperate with the treatment he had arranged. It was the best deal I could have asked for.

However, I didn’t expect that in the hospital parking lot, a group of burly men would surround me. I recognized them as the Romano family’s goons. They led me to another Maybach.

Giuseppe was sitting in the car, waiting for me to get in beside him. I didn’t want to get in, but the Romano family’s thugs shoved me inside.

I sat in the car, looking a mess. Giuseppe ordered me in a cold tone:

“Leave Marco and return to the Romano family. Confess your sins in person in the auditorium and explain everything you did back then in full detail.”

“As long as you repent sincerely, you will still be the princess of the Romano family.”

The hall was where the Romano family held their daily prayers and executed traitors. I had once been put on a trial there, but I steadfastly denied all charges.

I hadn’t admitted it back then, and I wouldn’t admit it now.

I looked up at Giuseppe’s exasperated expression and replied, just as I had back then:

“That was three years ago. I didn’t do it. I didn’t betray Don.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Giuseppe’s voice suddenly rose.

“You didn’t do it?”

“Do you think the entire Romano family is blind? The butler, the servants, Carmela—even Mother can vouch for it! You were the only one coming in and out of Father’s study all the time back then. What else do you have to say for yourself?”

“Are you telling me that even Mother is framing you?”

His hoarse roar made my vision go dark.

I had to grip the edge of the seat tightly just to keep myself from falling over.

I still insisted: “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not going back. I’ll prove it to you.”

Giuseppe’s expression darkened completely.

He spoke without thinking.

“Enough! You refuse to go back to the Romano family and live like a princess but rather stay with Marco as his secret mistress.”

“Antonella, was he really that good in bed? Was it even more unforgettable than the one you had on your eighteenth birthday? You’re just happy to be Marco’s little lapdog.”

I was stunned.

It turned out he still remembered my eighteenth birthday.

At the time, we were partying in an empty room. We’d already kissed many times before, so it felt natural for us to end up in bed. I felt so happy. Giuseppe was very gentle. He cupped my face and said to me:

“Antonella is my one and only little moon.”

But the next day, he suddenly turned on me, grabbed me by the throat, and demanded, “Did you slip something into my drink last night? Did you make me lose my senses so I’d end up sleeping with you?”

I cried and said I hadn’t.

Giuseppe seemed to have softened; his tone softened as well, and he said to me, “We should take a break for a while, so we can both cool off. Also, Don found out about our relationship, and he’s not too happy about it.”

After that, Giuseppe grew increasingly distant from me and show less and less trust of me.

Now, sitting in the Maybach, I said to my stepbrother, “I used to think you loved me.”

When Giuseppe heard what I said, he laughed bitterly in his rage.

“Antonella, you don’t think I’m meeting you this time because I still care about you, do you?”

“You betrayed Don, framed Carmela, and still won’t admit it. I’ll never stop hating you.”

“If Mother hadn’t seen you being humiliated in front of everyone at the banquet hall last night—she felt so sorry for you—and offered you a way out, do you really think I’d want to see you?”

Bitterness filled my heart. I asked her, “Mother felt sorry for me, or she felt guilty toward me?”

On the day of my trial, my mother had frantically testified that she had overheard me discussing family secrets with other members of the mafia. That became the most damning evidence against me. I looked at her in disbelief, but she turned her face away and refused to look at me.

Because of my mother’s testimony—and since I absolutely refused to admit any wrongdoing—I was locked in the auditorium for three days without a drop of water, and I nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

I didn’t want to reminisce with Giuseppe anymore. I opened the car door and walked away.

“Antonella, if you dare to leave today, I’ll never forgive you!”

For some reason, Giuseppe’s voice was trembling.

But I didn’t look back, nor did I stop.

The Ferraro family’s car was waiting for me by the roadside.

Just as I was about to sit down, a voice tinged with tears rang out from nearby.

“Antonella…”

I froze.

It was my mother’s voice. She was choking back tears, her eyes red-rimmed.

“Antonella, you’ve lost a lot of weight.”

“You must have gone through a lot these past few years. I heard you’re doing four jobs a day. And Marco… he’s a cold-hearted man; he must be mistreating you. Come home with me, Antonella, my princess.”

I watched her quietly.

No resentment, no sense of injustice, no expectations.

Just genuine confusion.

“Mother, why are you crying?”

“Isn’t everything I am today because of you?”

After saying that, I bent down and got into the car. In the rearview mirror, my mother looked as if she’d been struck by a blow; she was kneeling on the side of the street, weeping uncontrollably.

The driver drove me a good distance away, then spoke respectfully.

“Ma’am, the Underboss just boarded the plane. He asked me to let you know that the Mel Clinic in the U.S. is highly regarded for treating heart failure. He’s already on his way there and will notify you immediately if there’s any good news.”

“If you need anything, please feel free to let me know or contact Consigliere.”

“Also, we’re already looking into your situation. The Underboss wants you to focus on getting better; he promises he’ll get to the bottom of this for you.”

I nodded, feeling deeply grateful to Marco.

But my adoptive Mother had been trying to reach me for the past few days.

First she sent a text message, then she reached out to me on social media. Over the past couple of days, she’d even had family members negotiate with the Ferraro family.

As recently as that afternoon, she sent me a text message:

[Antonella, I’m sick. It’s serious. The doctor said a lot of scary things.]

[I know I wronged you back then. But I had my reasons. I won’t ask for your forgiveness. I only hope… that before I die, I can see you one last time. Would you come home? Please? Just consider it your mother’s last wish.]

I knew how desperate a person felt when they learned they had a terminal illness. The thought of my adoptive mother going through that same agony softened my heart. So I drove to the Romano Family’s villa.

Security there was tight, with multiple checkpoints and guard posts surrounding the perimeter. But the once-beautiful garden had been neglected and was now overgrown with weeds. Ever since Don had fallen into a vegetative state, the Romano family had been unable to restore its former glory once again.

The butler led me into the villa’s foyer. It was pitch-black; none of the lights were on.

I instinctively sensed something was wrong and wanted to leave.

But from the center of the second floor, a woman slowly emerged.

It wasn’t my seriously ill mother.

It was Carmela.

“Antonella, you’re finally here.”

“I’ve been waiting for you for ages.”