The Mafia Princess Asked for a Beautiful Ashes Box Chapter 02

The Mafia Princess Asked for a Beautiful Ashes Box Chapter 02

The alcohol surged through my bloodstream, warping the room into streaks of light and color.

A voice I had buried for five years exploded in my memory.

“You sold Mom’s keepsake for money? Have I ever denied you anything? Why don’t you sell yourself while you’re at it? Get the hell out! From this moment on, You’re not my sister!”

Five years ago, Mia had set me up.

She stole our mother’s keepsake from Dante, sold it, and blamed me.

Dante flew into a rage. He forced me to kneel outside in the snow for three days, demanding again and again that I tell him who had bought it.

But how could I tell him something I didn’t know?

I insisted Mia was trying to drive us apart because she couldn’t stand how much he cared about me. Dante refused to believe a word.

In Dante’s eyes, I had stolen from him, dishonored our mother’s memory, and shown no remorse.

All three were offenses he could never forgive.

With Mia constantly feeding his anger, Dante took every dollar I had and threw me out of the estate.

For the first six months, I managed well enough. My sales job paid enough to cover my expenses and then some.

Then Dante called me for the first and only time in five years.

His first words were, “Are you coming home to apologize or not? Tell me who bought Mom’s keepsake, and I’ll forgive you.”

Pride and anger got the better of me.

“How many times do I have to tell you it wasn’t me? Ask your precious Mia. She’s the one who sold it!”

Dante hung up.

I was fired that same day.

He sent word throughout New York that anyone who hired or sheltered me would be declaring themselves an enemy of the Russo family.

After that, I couldn’t find a legitimate job anywhere.. Bottle service at nightclubs was the only work I could get.

It was as if Dante wanted to make sure I saw everything he gave Mia in my place. He publicly named her the sole heir to the Russo empire and took her to interviews, galas, and auctions.

He showered her with gifts worth millions. Their faces appeared constantly on the business news.

Meanwhile, I hid in the shadows and drank until I developed stomach cancer just to keep myself alive.

I spent years seeing doctors and burned through every dollar I had. I took out one predatory loan after another, but it still wasn’t enough.

The medication that might have bought me time cost more than I could ever afford. Chemotherapy was even further beyond my reach.

Once, I called Dante to ask for help. I had barely managed a few words before he cut me off.

“Money, always money! Is that all you ever think about? Until you come home and apologize, don’t expect a cent from me. You can die out there for all I care!”

That call extinguished the last bit of hope I had left.

I was tired. So unbearably tired.

If Dante wanted me dead, then perhaps I should die.

At least the pain would stop.

A month ago, I had ordered a beautiful custom urn for myself. After scraping together everything I could, I was still five hundred dollars short.

The memorial shop owner called almost every day to demand the balance.

I had thought I could finally pay it tonight.

Instead, Dante had handed my manager a hundred thousand dollars without blinking and denied me the five hundred I had earned.

He swept out of the club with his entourage while I vomited until I could barely breathe in the restroom.

Only one thought remained in my mind.

Three bottles of whiskey, and not a cent to show for it.

My floor manager smoked beside me.

“How the hell did you piss off Don Russo? He looked ready to kill when he stormed out. What are you two to each other?”

Pain cramped through my stomach in relentless waves, and my head spun from the alcohol. I could barely keep my eyes open as I clung to the toilet to stop myself from falling in.

“Nothing,” I murmured. “Enemies, maybe.”