The True Mafia Principessa Chapter 02

The True Mafia Principessa Chapter 02

He called in two maids.

They dragged me into a storage room and locked the door behind me.

Between the dog attack, the shock, and my untreated wounds, I developed a fever that same night.

At some point, I blacked out.

When I came to, I felt something cool against my forehead.

I opened my eyes.

Lucian was sitting beside me, holding a cooling patch, about to place it on my skin.

When he realized I was awake, his expression shifted.

“Olyria… you’re too stubborn,” he said quietly. “We’re only borrowing your identity to help Clara. You don’t understand. She saved me once.”

I knocked his hand away and let out a cold laugh.

“Oh really? She’s the only one who ever saved you?”

The Vercetti family had always been known as one of the few clean forces in this city. Their business was tied to charity, their reputation spotless.

And because of that, they had enemies.

Some people wanted to pull them into dirty money. When the Vercettis refused, it earned them resentment.

Lucian, the family’s only heir, became a target.

Someone tracked him to school, locked him in an equipment room, and planned to burn the place down in the middle of the night.

That night, when he didn’t come home, I got worried and went back to the school.

I heard him calling for help.

I burned my hands forcing the door open.

I dragged him out myself.

Lucian frowned, clearly at a loss for words.

Before he could respond, the storage room door opened.

Clara stood there, waving him over, her eyes full of disgust as she looked at me.

“Lucian, come here. Stay away from her,” she said. “Everyone knows girls who study abroad get wild. Who knows what she’s been doing all these years? She might be carrying something.”

She smiled sweetly and leaned toward Quentin.

“Unlike me. I’m clean. Right, Quentin?”

“Clara’s right,” Quentin said without hesitation, his tone gentle, indulgent. “Lucian, come with us. Didn’t you say you wanted to help Clara’s friends with specimen work? They’re waiting upstairs.”

Lucian hesitated.

Clara didn’t.

She stepped right over me to grab him.

As she did, her heel came down hard on my stomach.

I let out a strangled cry.

She dragged her foot slightly, as if wiping dirt off her shoe.

“Lucian~”

Whatever he wanted to say died on his lips.

He left with her.

Quentin bent down, picked me up, and carried me upstairs.

I struggled, hitting him, trying to get away.

In the end, I slapped him across the face.

The sound echoed.

He didn’t react.

He calmly called for a doctor to treat my wounds.

Then gave one simple instruction.

“No anesthesia.”

He looked at me, his lips curling slightly.

“Pain helps people remember.”

My blood-soaked clothes were torn away from my skin.

Flesh that had stuck to the fabric ripped open again.

“I’ll still marry you,” he said, almost casually. “Once Clara is done enjoying life as the Principessa, we’ll go through with the engagement. You’re the one I’ve always wanted.”

The wounds were cleaned.

The stitching began.

Pain exploded through me. Cold sweat drenched my back. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes.

He reached out, as if to wipe my tears.

I seized the chance and bit down hard on his hand.

He frowned.

Then pressed his thumb directly into my open wound.

I gasped, the pain so sharp it stole my breath.

Only then did he pull his hand back, his gaze turning colder.

“Seven years abroad and you’ve learned to bite people,” he said. “After we’re married, I’ll make sure to teach you some discipline.”

The doctor had no choice but to redo the treatment.

This time, I passed out from the pain.

When I woke again, it was to music.

Loud. Vibrating.

It came from the room next door.

That room… was my private collection.

It held the porcelain pieces my mother had left behind.

Delicate. Priceless.

It was supposed to be silent. Even slight vibrations could shatter them.

Ignoring the pain, I forced myself to my feet and staggered toward the door.

When I reached it, I froze.

Inside, a group of rich heirs were drinking, laughing, shouting.

“Everyone says Quentin and Clara are inseparable,” someone teased. “Come on, with the mood like this, at least give us a kiss!”

“Kiss! Kiss!”

Clara sat curled in Quentin’s arms.

Someone tilted her chin up.

He kissed her.

She covered her face, blushing.

“Okay, okay, stop teasing us.”

Then she smiled brightly at the crowd.

“You all like the porcelain my mom collected, right? That’s why I invited you. Take whatever you want. Everything’s free.”

The room went silent for a second.

Then—

“Are you serious? These pieces are worth millions now!”

“Clara, you’re amazing.”

They rushed forward, opening display cases, grabbing pieces, passing them around carelessly.

Some collided.

Some slipped.

Cracks spread.

Shattering echoed through the room.

Clara even laughed.

“That sound is so nice. No wonder they’re worth millions.”

Something inside me snapped.

I rushed in, grabbed her, and slapped her across the face.

The sound rang out, sharp and clear.

“You like that sound?” I said coldly. “How about this one?”