Who Is the Real Mafia Principessa Chapter 01

Who Is the Real Mafia Principessa Chapter 01

I’ve known since I was little what everyone in the Maifa family told me over and over: I was a foundling, a replacement.

If I smiled at my brother Rafael, he’d snap at me, calling me a brownnoser.

When I finally won first place in a piano competition, my parents had the instrument smashed on the spot, saying I was living off the real Principessa Elowen’s blood.

The whole family walked on eggshells, careful never to be kind to me—terrified I’d one day compete with Elowen for their love.

So when Elowen came home, I volunteered to go find my real parents.

They begged me not to, saying I’d always be their daughter and sister if I just stayed in line.

I believed them.

Then came a practice exam. Elowen failed. She cried that she could never keep up with me no matter how hard she tried, and slit her wrist in a suicide attempt.

They reported me for cheating on my college entrance exams and had me thrown in prison. They called it my punishment for stealing Elowen’s life.

I accepted every lie and every cold stare willingly, thinking I was making amends.

Today was the day I got out. Snow fell heavy and thick, the wind cutting straight to my bones.

A guard handed me an old coat. “Althea Moretti. You’re free now. Don’t… don’t make the same mistake again.”

His gaze flicked to my clenched cuffs, and his voice dropped. “And tell your family to get you to a therapist.”

I stared blankly and nodded, tugging my sleeves down lower.

Right. My debt was paid.

I could finally go find my real family.

I’d only taken a few steps when a black Rolls-Royce with its hazard lights on pulled up beside me. The window rolled down, revealing a familiar, handsome face.

Rafael. Elowen’s real brother.

His eyes were just as they’d always been—cold, empty of any warmth.

“Althea. Get in. We’re going home.”

I didn’t look at him. I kept walking toward the bus stop.

Right as I stepped onto the bus stairs, a rough force yanked me backward, slamming my back against the cold car door.

Rafael loomed over me, disgust etched into his features. “What now? Copying Elowen’s act? Trying to make us feel guilty?”

“Two years in prison and this is what you learned?”

Prison had turned my mind to rust; I thought slowly, dazedly staring at him until I finally processed his words.

I shook my head and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket, worn thin from being touched over and over. I held it out for him to see.

“No,” my voice was rough. “Elowen visited me last time. She said she found my real parents. Look—this is the address. I’m going to my own home.”

He froze for a second, then his face turned icy. He snatched the paper, tore it to shreds, and tossed the pieces into the busy street.

“Cut the crap.” He grabbed my arm, his tone hard. “Mom and Dad are waiting at home. You’re coming with—”

I let out a sharp scream, yanking free. Before he could process what was happening, I ran straight into the road.

“Home… I just want to go home…” I knelt on the cold asphalt, scrambling frantically for the torn scraps.

Screeching tires and angry shouts exploded around me.

“The hell’s wrong with you? Are you crazy?!”

Rafael’s face went white. He lunged forward, shielding me with his body, apologizing over and over to the furious drivers before practically dragging me back to the sidewalk.

“Althea!” His chest heaved. There was fear in his eyes, but more than that, the same old, unshakable irritation.

“If you really want to die, do it where I can’t see you! Acting out for attention like this—after everything the Moretti family did for you!”

His yelling left me dazed. My slow mind struggled to catch up, then I lifted my face and asked him, genuinely confused, “So… when Elowen cut her wrist, was that just… trying to get attention too?”

“That doesn’t make sense…”

Rafael went completely still. Every word, every movement died on his lips.

For the first time, he looked away, unable to meet my eyes.

See?

Even he knew it was true.

The name Elowen had been a curse hanging over my head for as long as I could remember.

I was the fake. I was leeching her life. I’d stolen her place.

That was why Mrs. Moretti fired the maid who served me dessert first.

Why Don Moretti smashed my award-winning piano.

Why Rafael had my stray puppy buried.

With every choice they made, they proved one thing: they would never let their long-lost princess suffer, not even a little, just because I’d grown up beside them.

Their favor had always tilted toward her, unapologetic and absolute.

But I still couldn’t understand.

She had all their love, everything handed to her.

Why… why did she have to cut her wrist just because she scored lower than me on one practice exam?

Elowen.

What exactly were you so afraid of?