The Mafia Principessa’s Nine Knights Chapter 01

The Mafia Principessa’s Nine Knights Chapter 01

Nine generations of Marino children, every last one of them boys.

I was the first girl born into the Marino line.

Grandpa bolted upright in his ICU bed. The nurse dropped her syringe.

My dad set up a trust that same day. Its only purpose was me.

All nine of my cousins crammed into the maternity ward hallway until the nurses kicked them out.

Luca Marino told me I was the only weak spot he’d ever have.

So for seventeen years, that entire family treated me like I was made of glass.

Until the day he brought a girl home.

The second Luca stepped away for a call, she leaned in and grabbed my chin.

Then she slapped me.

“You? You think you get to hang all over my boyfriend?”

Oh, honey.

You stupid, pretty little fool.

Do you have any idea who you just laid hands on?

…

My name is Bella.

Tenth-generation Marino. The only girl.

My mom told me that when she was carrying me, nobody in the family was allowed to raise their voice. When the family dog sneezed, my uncle, the family underboss, grabbed it by the scruff and tossed it outside.

The day I was born, Grandpa, the old Don, was hooked up to every machine in the ICU. He ripped out his oxygen tube and sat up by himself.

By the time the doctor came running, Grandpa was staring at his phone, at the photo my mom had sent him.

His hands were shaking.

Tears hit the screen before he could wipe them away.

“A girl… it’s a girl…”

He kept saying it, over and over.

Every monitor in the room was shrieking. The nurses told us later that nobody moved, because Grandpa was grinning like a little kid while shooting death glares at anyone who dared to step too close.

After that, Grandpa started getting stronger.

The doctors called it a miracle.

My dad said it wasn’t a miracle. It was me.

“My daughter is the Marino princess.”

He told everyone. For seventeen years, he never stopped.

Before I was a month old, he’d set up a trust. He called it the Bella Marino Trust.

He made himself the trustee. I was the sole beneficiary.

By the time I turned three, the trust account held more money than some of our family’s businesses made in a year.

My nine cousins showed up in a pack.

Dante Marino, the one in law school, drafted a Declaration of Protection and made every male relative in the family sign it.

The rules were simple. Nobody makes Bella cry. Nobody takes Bella’s things. Nobody fights where Bella can see.

Break the rules and you’re out of the family.

A few years later, before I could even read, I folded the damn thing into a paper airplane.

Dante chased me around the house three times before he finally knelt down in front of me. “Okay, little princess. How about I make you a much cooler one, and you give Dante’s paper back?”

But none of them spoiled me like Luca did.

Luca.

Ten years older than me. Ten the year I was born.

They said he stood outside the delivery room for hours. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t sit down.

When the nurse finally brought me out, she held me up so he could see.

He just looked at me. Didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Then, quietly, he said it.

“She’s so small.”

His voice barely a whisper.

After that, something in him shifted.

Before me, he was the wildest kid in the family. Skipped school, got into fights, stole cars for joyrides. My dad once took a belt to him and he didn’t even flinch.

Once I came along, he started actually trying in school.

Got into one of the top business schools in the country.

By twenty-three, he was running the family’s business.

Two years later, he’d tripled the company’s value.

Everyone called him a genius. A born prodigy.

But I knew why he pushed himself that hard.

Because he told me.

“I have to be strong enough, princess. Strong enough to keep you safe forever.”

I was nine.

He was crouched in front of me, his hand resting on my head.

I remember his palm felt rough. Slightly calloused.

“You’re the only weak spot I’ll ever have.”

He smiled, but the look in his eyes was deadly serious.

I believed him.

For seventeen years, I believed him.

…

Until that day.