My Death Drove the Three Mafia Brothers Crazy

Memories crashed over me like waves.

I wasn't really Sofia Lombardi. Or at least, not entirely.

My real name was Sylvia Gallo. I had a brother, Silvio Gallo, who was my whole world.

Three years ago, Silvio was diagnosed with leukemia. The treatment cost a fortune.

Just when I thought I was completely out of options, I accidentally wandered into a super VIP room in the hospital. There, I saw three men kneeling and crying beside a young lady covered with a white sheet.

The moment they saw me, their faces were filled with shock. They promised to save Silvio. But in return, I had to live on in place of the deceased young lady to offer them the emotional salvation and the presence they needed.

I agreed. I could do anything to save Silvio.

Three years passed, and Silvio's face started to fade in my mind. I tried to open my eyes, desperate to see clearly.

Warm blood suddenly flooded my mouth.

A doctor nearby shouted harshly in broken Elythran, "Massive hemorrhage! Code Blue! The patient has lost her will to live! The Don's son is on his way! We can't let her pass out!"

As soon as he said that, several hands pinned me down. They tried everything to keep me awake—slaps, electric shocks, and even adrenaline shots.

In pain, I curled up and trembled uncontrollably. My mind slipped, but deep down, a long-lost joy stirred.

Had Silvio come for me?

But before darkness could take me, sharp injections pierced my skin. The fog in my mind cleared, and I was dragged back forcefully.

As I lifted my head, I met a pair of eyes wide with panic.

"Antonio?"

The name slipped out instinctively the moment I saw his face.

Immediately, I regretted it.

The panic in my eldest brother Antonio Lombardi's eyes turned to sharp disgust when he heard me say his name.

Frowning, he pulled his wrist free from my grasp. "Don't call my name until you've apologized to Emilia!"

I was nothing but skin and bones now. My wrist cracked under the pressure of his strong grip.

Antonio froze for a moment. Something unreadable flashed in his eyes as he said, "I didn't use any force at all. How much longer are you going to keep up this act? Can't you learn from Emilia and just be sensible for once?"

Sensible?

Antonio used to praise me for being sensible. He used to act like I was the most precious thing in the world.

Once, I drove alone to the hospital while having a high fever and ended up in an accident. That same night, Antonio announced he was leaving the mafia life for good. He crawled up the church steps, severed three fingers, and begged God to forgive his sins and spare my life.

My second and third brothers, Orfeo and Carlo Lombardi, were no different.

Everyone in Elythra's mafia circles knew the three brothers spoiled me rotten. Even I firmly believed that I—the mere stand-in—would be their princess forever.

That was until Emilia Ricci appeared.

The day the Lombardi brothers brought her home, they swore to me solemnly, saying, "Sofia, Emilia looks just like our late sister, Isabella. We can't leave her alone. We promise Emilia won't take away a single ounce of love we have for you."

I nodded and accepted her wholeheartedly.

However, Emilia wanted to replace me completely.

She would wait until the precise moment Antonio walked by to slap herself across the face, then throw herself into his arms, crying out, "Sofia hit me…"

When Orfeo came into view from the second-floor balcony, she would jump down and whine, "Sofia pushed me."

Right in front of Carlo, she would drop to her knees and devour dog food while choking back tears. "Sofia, please don't be angry. I'm just a dog. I'll eat it. I'll eat it all…"

With each accusation, the disappointment in their eyes grew heavier, and their trust in me eroded.

It was Emilia's diagnosis of depression that finally tipped the scales.

Since she was afraid of the dark, the Lombardi brothers would take turns putting her to sleep every night.

Meanwhile, I'd collapse in pain from my period in my room, only to be found by the helpers the next day.

Emilia loved painting, so my sunlit bedroom became her art studio, while I was shoved into the cold, damp basement, living with rats.

She loved cleanliness, so I had to shower 100 times every day before appearing at home. Otherwise, she'd beat me mercilessly for being dirty.

That day, she suddenly dropped to her knees, clutching her head and screaming in tears, "Scusa, Sofia! I know you don't like me. I'll apologize on my knees. Please don't hit me anymore! I don't want our brothers to see me bruised."

Hearing the commotion, the Lombardi brothers rushed in and pulled her into their arms, soothing her gently.

They glared at me like I was the enemy.

Not long after, because I refused to apologize to Emilia, they tied me up and sent me to an underground auction to be used as a plaything for others.