Claimed By The Mafia King

"Amelia, this is the DNA test result. You are not Mr. Milton's biological daughter. Mr. Milton has found his real daughter and wants you to stop contacting them."

Amelia arrived at her fiancé's house.

It felt like a dream. She wasn't Jackson's daughter?

She'd always wondered why Jackson let her take the Cromwell name.

Now she knew—Jackson had known all along that she wasn't his daughter.

She mustered the courage to text her fiance, Maynard Simmons, "Coming home for dinner tonight?"

The wait felt endless. He hated being disturbed at work, and she worried he'd ignore her like he used to.

But a second later, her phone lit up with his cold reply, "Yeah, we need to talk."

Relieved, Amelia hurried to buy groceries and whipped up several of her best dishes.

She placed the DNA test on the table, then thought better of it and flipped it over.

As evening fell, a black luxury car pulled into the yard.

Maynard got out, his suit jacket casually draped over his arm. His tall frame and sharp features made him look like a model off the runway.

"Maynard, you're home!"

Amelia jogged over, reaching for his jacket, but he handed her a document instead. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Take a look. If you have any demands, go ahead."

She glanced down at the first page, where the title "Breakup Agreement" stared back at her.

The stark white paper hurt her eyes.

Maynard tugged at his tie, looking tired from work. He glanced at his fiancee, with her round, baby-faced features that made her look pretty cute.

He didn't love her. He'd only proposed because his grandma adored her.

Amelia kept his grandma company, strolled with her in Central Park, baked cupcakes, and watched old movies together.

Life had become more colorful for his grandma, and her health improved.

Their engagement was just a deal.

Staying together would only waste Amelia's youth. Better to end it.

"Are you breaking up with me because of my identity?" Amelia asked, her voice trembling.

Had Maynard already found out she wasn't a Milton by blood?

"Identity?" He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Never mind. I was just wondering, would you still break up if we had a kid?"

"Yes," he said coldly, his eyes flicking to her stomach.

"Are you pregnant?"

She shook her head.

Maynard let out a sigh of relief. He didn't want to bring a child into an unhappy relationship—like his parents had done.

Amelia watched his retreating back, swallowing back tears. She hadn't told him about the DNA test.

His words felt like a gentle knife stabbing her heart.

She glanced at the dinner she'd prepared, now cold, and dumped it all in the trash.

Growing up, her parents never loved her. They sent her to live with her aunt, Rosemary, who was kind to her.

All Amelia ever wanted was a family of her own.

She'd been Maynard's fiancee for three years, even though she knew he didn't love her.

But you can't warm a cold stone, no matter how hard you try.

Without even reading the breakup agreement, she signed her name at the bottom.

That night, she moved to the study. She couldn't go back to the Miltons, and Maynard hadn't kicked her out yet. For now, this was her home.

The next morning, Amelia got a call from Maynard's mom, Felicia.

"Amelia, have the maid clean up the guest room on the second floor. We're expecting guests for a few days. Make sure they're well taken care of."

Before Amelia could ask who, Felicia hung up.

By the time she went downstairs, Maynard had already left for work.

In the afternoon, a young woman dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes walked into the hall. Amelia's eyes widened. Was this the guest Felicia mentioned? She was stunning.

Amelia's mind flashed with bitterness. In the past, she would've been jealous. But she was already broken up with Maynard. Any woman living here was none of her business.

"Hi," Amelia began, but the woman ignored her, walked around the hall, and then turned to the butler, Adrian.

"The curtains are ugly, and I hate the sofa. Change everything in the bedroom to my favorite brands."

"Who are you?" Amelia asked.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Misty Erikson, the future lady of the house. Naturally, I get to decide the decor."

"You're Misty?"

A wave of bitterness washed over Amelia. No wonder Maynard broke up with her.

Misty was back, and she was just a stand-in.

"Looks like you've heard of me. Sign the breakup agreement. You've held this spot for three years. Time to move on."

Amelia replied coolly, "So sentimental. Where were you when Maynard was in a car accident and in a coma?"

Misty's face froze. "My brothers kept me locked up. I couldn't see Maynard. Anyway, if you want your family to stay safe, sign the agreement."

She glanced at the breakup agreement on the coffee table, feeling triumphant. She'd waited three years for this day.

"I've already signed it," Amelia said.

"Good choice."

Misty pulled out a check from her designer bag. "Here's a million dollars. Consider it compensation."