His Substitute Turned Into the Mafia Queen

Adrianna’s POV

I heard my secret mafia boyfriend, Marco Ross, call me a disposable substitute on our anniversary—as he proposed to another woman, Bianca, the so-called Conti heiress. That same day, he ignored my calls for help while masked men broke in and shot me, taking our unborn child with them. What no one knew? I was the real Conti heiress, and Bianca he chose was just a fraud. So I made one call—I’m going home to take everything back. As for Marco and Bianca… they can both go to hell.

My voice still trembled. “Papa, I’ll come home and take the Conti name like I should—but I want that fraud, Bianca, gone.”

I expected my biological father, Enzo Conti, the Don of the one and only Conti family, to refuse. After all, Bianca had been his daughter for nearly twenty-five years. It was only six months ago that he learned the truth—learned she wasn’t his, and found me instead, his real daughter.

But his voice came through, soft and steady. “I would’ve gotten rid of her even if you hadn’t asked. The reason I lost you all these years… was because of her mother. If you hadn’t held me back, I would’ve killed them both already.”

Bianca’s mother had been one of the nurses caring for my mother in the hospital. She gave birth to Bianca a month before I was born. Maybe it was greed, or maybe it was calculation—she switched me with Bianca.

And after that? She didn’t even keep me. She dumped me in a rundown orphanage, probably hoping I’d die there—so the truth would stay buried forever.

“Anna,” Papa said gently, “you have my word. No one will ever hurt you again. No one will bully you, starve you, or take advantage of you. Whoever dares to upset you… I will make them disappear.”

If only he knew that I had just watched my boyfriend of six years cheat on me—with that same fake daughter…No, now wasn’t the right time to tell Papa everything.

He would destroy them for me—but I wanted to do it myself.

“Papa… about that marriage alliance. The one you arranged when I was a baby…I want to meet with him.”

“You have broke up with that boyfriend of yours?” Father asked.

He knew about Marco. I had already told Papa that he was the reason I hesitated to take the Conti name. Marco wasn’t born into power—and I was afraid that claiming mine would destroy what we had.

“I knew you have invested in his casino after I told you about him. You don’t have to do it anymore. I am over with him.”

Father went silent for a few seconds. “Alright, but about that marriage alliance…You don’t have to go through with it unless you truly want to.”

“I do,” I said quietly. “I trust your judgment. And I meant what I said—I want to help with the family business.”

There was a pause on the line, “Alright. But your birthday is in two weeks… how about we make your return public at your party? I’ll invite everyone, including Bianca. Then we can talk about meeting that man.”

I thought of Marco, of Bianca, of the look might appear on their faces when they realized that I was the real Conti heiress. “You read my mind, Papa.”

After the call ended, there was a knock on my door. “Miss, flower delivery.”

I frowned. No one knew I was in the hospital—so who would send me flowers?

I took them.

Roses, definitely not the kind someone send to a patient. And there was a card tucked inside. “How was that bullet? Stay away from my man. Next time, it goes through your head. XOXO, B.”

So the ambush wasn’t random.

Bianca sent them. To scare me? To force me to call Marco? It wasn’t a coincidence she picked up—she wanted me to hear his sickening confessions, to listen as he tore me down while lifting her up.

And if that wasn’t enough…

The pain came rushing back—sharp, suffocating.

The masked men. The gun. The timing.

They shot me in the stomach.

My hand drifted there instinctively. Just yesterday, there had been a baby. I hadn’t even known… until it was too late.

My grip on the bouquet tightened until the stems bit into my skin.

I picked up my phone and called Mary—the Conti’s family assistant.

“I’m at the hospital,” I said, my voice steady despite everything. “Masked men broke into my place and shot me.”

“Miss Conti—are you alright—”

“I need everything on Bianca. Every connection she has to this. And don’t tell Papa yet.”

Bianca could take men all she wanted. But hurting me? Killing my child? That was something else entirely.

She would pay for this, a hundred times more than I’d ever planned before.

My phone buzzed again.

Marco. “Sorry, babe. Missed your call and our anniversary dinner. Was in a meeting with a major mafia head. Come home and we’ll talk, okay?”

Business meeting? What a pathetic excuse.

Below Marco’s message was the anonymous text—the video of his proposal.

I hesitated, then opened it.

It played again.

Last night rushed back all at once. It was our anniversary. Ever since I found the ring in our closet, I had been waiting for this day, certain he would finally propose to me.

Instead, Marco was on one knee—for Bianca Conti, the infamous Conti heiress.

“I’ve waited for you all my life, Bianca,” his voice came through, clear and steady. “I never thought I could love someone this deeply. You asked me to wait seven years… I did. Now, will you marry me?”

Seven years. The words hit like a blade.

I hadn’t really heard them last night. Seeing him propose to someone else had already shattered everything. But now… now I heard it clearly.

Marco didn’t betray me. He just never loved me. He had been waiting for Bianca all along.

Then what were our seven years, Marco?

I realized that this question didn’t even need an answer. A bitter laugh slipped out as tears blurred my vision.

Marco’s exact words in that call, “Don’t bother, babe, she’s an orphan, lucky to be your substitute, a stray I keep around, a free woman to warm my bed.”

The pain in my abdomen throbbed, grounding me in reality.

I might have been an orphan once—but not anymore. And Marco had no idea the Bianca he fought so hard to win was the fake. If I used his own words… the stray was her, not me.

I didn’t stop the video. His voice kept replaying, filling the room.

In front of me, the Marco I once knew—the one who looked at me gently, held my hand, and promised I would never be alone—slowly blurred into the man kneeling before another woman, calling me nothing more than a pathetic, powerless orphan he kept to warm his bed.

All lies, Marco.

Everything between us was a lie.