The Fake Heiress Who Tamed the Young Don Chapter 01

The Fake Heiress Who Tamed the Young Don Chapter 01

I was the only daughter of the Moretti family, the most powerful mafia family in Italy.

I had a brother who spoiled me beyond reason.

So much so that we ended up in bed together.

Yes.

We weren’t related by birth.

That night, Ricardo Moretti unbuttoned his suit one button at a time, the Moretti family crest embroidered over his body, before tossing the jacket carelessly onto the floor.

When he stood in front of me with nothing left between us, I finally realized I might actually die.

Too big.

“Ricky, I’m scared. I’m really scared.”

I pushed at his body, my voice shaking so badly it barely sounded like mine.

“Don’t be scared.” He caught my hand and pressed it against himself, his voice low, dangerous, and unbearably suggestive.

“It likes you.”

As my mind blurred, I remembered the past.

Before I found out I was the fake heiress, I had spent every day bossing my brother around.

Sometimes I dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night to watch the moon with me.

Sometimes I forced him to wear a tight black sweater just to pick me up from school.

My brother must have resented me deeply, but because of the family elders, he could only endure it and do as I said.

Until that day, when I issued him another order.

Ricardo spat out three cold words.

“Not happening.”

Just as I was about to throw a fit, a few lines of text suddenly floated before my eyes.

[The fake heiress is still acting up here, not knowing the real heiress has already become her brother’s direct junior in the lab. They had dinner together today, and he was gentle and thoughtful the whole time. Nothing like how impatient he is with a certain spoiled brat.]

[Once he finds out the fake heiress isn’t his real sister, he’ll throw her out of the car before even getting off the freeway. By the time people find her, she’ll be in pieces. Literally impossible to put back together.]

[She’s been abusing her brother every day. Serves her right if she turns into a wandering ghost.]

I shuddered and weakly pulled my half-damp hair back from Ricardo’s hand.

“Ricky, if you don’t want to, forget it. I can… I can ask someone else.”

“Someone else?”

Under the low hum of the blow dryer, Ricardo’s voice sounded wrapped in ice.

Distracted and unsettled, I answered carelessly, “Yeah. I’ll ask my friends tomorrow. They…”

“Talia Moretti.”

Those three words came from Ricardo’s mouth, cold and emotionless.

I trembled.

Then I forced out a smile.

“Ricky, what… what’s wrong?”

Ricardo stared at me for a few seconds, his Adam’s apple shifting.

“I have lab work. I can’t casually tattoo my hand.”

The second he finished speaking, the floating comments began cursing me again.

[??? Forcing her brother to tattoo her name on his body? What kind of normal person does that? She’s completely insane.]

[I can’t imagine how much suffering he’s endured all these years. Thankfully, our sweet, considerate real princess is coming back soon. Fake heiress, get ready to eat dirt.]

I bit my lip until it almost bled.

This was all Snowy Villa’s fault.

Yesterday, that sworn enemy of mine had provoked me by pointing at my brother’s photo and saying he wasn’t as handsome as her brother.

Of course I refused to accept that.

I rolled up my sleeves and argued with her for ages.

“Are your eyes clogged with garbage? How is my brother not hotter than yours? My brother is six foot three. Is yours?”

“Heh. My brother has eight-pack abs.”

More and more classmates gathered around us, and the argument changed direction before I realized it.

Snowy said, “My brother makes me eight-inch handmade pizza every day.”

I blew on my nails. “Sorry, my brother’s handmade pizza is two inches bigger than yours.”

Snowy’s face turned red with anger.

Then she suddenly smiled like victory was already hers.

“My brother tattooed my initials on his wrist.”

I was so furious at her smug little face that I lost my mind and gave Ricardo the order without thinking.

Now the comments kept telling me to die, cursing me so hard I could barely lift my head.

All I wanted was to return to my room and be alone.

“Okay. I’m going to bed first.”

Ricardo seemed not to react.

It wasn’t until I pushed open my bedroom door that I heard his voice.

“Come here. Your hair isn’t dry yet.”

He had just tested the temperature of the blow dryer against his palm.

But I snatched the dryer from him.

“Ricky, I can do it myself. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Ricardo’s hand was still raised, but his face grew uglier with every word I said.

[She says it so nicely, but which time hasn’t she waited until he fell asleep before banging on his door? Either she wants hair oil or she’s hungry for pasta.]

[Every time I watch it, I feel the helplessness of wanting to slap her through the screen. I can’t even imagine how sick of her he must be.]

I lowered my head and ran back into my room with the blow dryer and the hair oil beside Ricardo’s hand.

The comments finally quieted down.

I sat at the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the photo wall covered with pictures of Ricardo and me.

The latest one was from last week, when Ricardo had come to pick me up from school and I had dragged him into taking a picture.

In the photo, I grinned at the camera and flashed a peace sign, while Ricardo stared expressionlessly at the empty space beside us.

I looked back through the older photos and realized that whenever I was in the picture, Ricardo always looked away with a cold face.

Before, I always thought he was just trying to look cool.

Only after seeing those comments did I realize he had hated me for a long time.

Silently, I took down every photo of Ricardo and me from the wall and packed them into a box, planning to deal with them the next day.

According to the comments, the real heiress had already met Ricardo.

It wouldn’t be long before they recognized each other as siblings.

I couldn’t stop the plot from moving forward.

All I could hope was that I wouldn’t make Ricardo hate me even more.

Maybe when the time came, he would remember our old bond and spare my life.

Knock, knock.

Someone knocked on the door.

I got up and opened it.

Ricardo silently handed me a steaming glass of milk.

I instinctively waved it away.

“Ricky, I’m not drinking it.”

[Damn it. Can someone drag this spoiled brat away? I’m so tired of watching her. She used to throw tantrums until he heated milk for her every night, and now that he brings it to her, she won’t drink it? Is she sick?]

[Not only that, she used to force him to drink with her. God knows he hates milk more than anything.]

The moment Ricardo’s face darkened, I grabbed the glass from his hand and chugged it down.

Ricardo’s expression eased a little, and he reached for the empty glass in my hand.

I quickly turned sideways and brushed past his fingertips, running toward the kitchen.

“No, no. I’ll wash it myself.”

After washing the glass, I turned around and met Ricardo’s gaze at the kitchen doorway.

He lowered his eyes and studied me for a long while before coming to a conclusion.

“Talia Moretti, you’re mad at me.”