The Daughter Her Four Fathers Discarded

I jolted awake with a shudder, but the cell was empty.

It was then I realized the voice wasn't my mother's, but the System's that had once guided her.

It told me my mother had left a backdoor open for me when she departed. All I had to do was nod, and I could go to her.

Of course I did.

But as the words formed on my lips, I swallowed them back.

I asked in a hoarse voice, "Would it be any better with her? If she loved me, why would she leave me all alone?"

The System paused, then told me a story I'd never heard before.

My mother had taken on this dangerous mission to pay for my grandmother's life-saving medical treatment. It was the only reason she came here.

In reality, she was just an ordinary young woman, already deep in debt from saving a life and struggling just to get by.

Back then, four powerful mafia bosses swore to her that no matter which of them was my father, they would treat me as the apple of their eye.

They begged my mother to leave me, their shared treasure, behind.

A parent's love is planning for their child's future.

My mother didn't want me to return to a life of poverty with her, so she made the heartbreaking choice to leave me with them.

At least here, I wouldn't have to worry about going hungry.

"Hazel." The System's mechanical voice held a rare gentleness, like the comforting tone of an elder.

"Your mother never gave up on you. For sixteen years, she's remained single, bought a small apartment, and hoped for your return every single day. Are you willing to go to her?"

I nodded vigorously.

The System seemed to sigh in relief. It said that once this body died, I would be able to see her.

Hearing this, I glanced at the corner of the cell. I found the rough clay bowl they used for water and smashed it against the stone floor.

Shards scattered, and I picked up the sharpest piece, clenching it in my hand.

I once heard Dad Gabriel say that if you found the vein in your wrist and cut deep with something sharp, you would bleed out very quickly.

I was afraid of pain, but the thought of seeing my mother soon gave me the strength to grit my teeth and slash downward.

Thankfully, the shard was sharp enough, and my hand was steady.

Blood quickly welled up, dripping from my wrist onto the concrete floor.

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.

My vision slowly went dark and my ears rang, but I was happy.

Because I would see my mother soon.

Unfortunately, the joy didn't last. The iron door banged open.

Someone shouted my name. The shard was slapped from my hand, and a large hand clamped down on my wrist.

A blinding light flashed. I barely lifted my head to meet a deep, panicked gaze.

His suit carried the pleasant scent of cedarwood.

"Dad Theodore." The name slipped out on instinct.

But I regretted it the moment the name left my lips.

Because when Theodore heard me, the panic in his eyes was instantly replaced by disgust.

"Don't call me that. You don't deserve to."

Theodore was my First Dad. The Don of the Family.

Of the four men, he was the one I had been closest to.

Outsiders even placed bets that he was my biological father, because our eyes were nearly identical, both a shade of amber.

From childhood to adolescence, I lived in his heavily guarded estate.

No matter what I pointed at, he would find a way to bring it to me.

He told me that if I pointed to a star in the sky, he would send someone to pluck it down for me.

It's a shame that this endless favoritism came to a screeching halt three years ago.

Theodore brought Zoe back from Sicily.

I realized then that before my mother, these four men had shared a first love.

Back then, the woman had betrayed their trade routes, made off with a massive sum of cash, and fled to Europe.

It was my mother who appeared and pulled them back from the devastation of that betrayal.

Later, the woman lay dying in Italy. She called Theodore, crying and apologizing, begging him to adopt her daughter, Zoe.

My four adoptive fathers told me Zoe was only a few months younger than me and that we should get along like sisters.

At the time, I genuinely opened my heart to her.

But from the day Zoe stepped through the door, she set out to claw my fathers away from me, bit by bit.

Mysterious bruises would appear on her skin, and she would cry that I was jealous and had hit her.

She would even throw herself down the stairs in front of the servants, screaming that I had pushed her.

As these malicious accusations piled up, the way my adoptive fathers looked at me grew colder.

Until one time, she was cornered by a dozen street thugs in a Lower East Side alley, and her clothes were torn.

When Zane's men beat those thugs half to death, they all swore it was me who paid them off.

I wasn't even given a chance to defend myself.

From that day on, I was a pariah in this household.

My four fathers forbade me from calling them Dad.

I was dragged from the sunniest suite to the dark dungeon meant for Family traitors.

The servants started calling me "that little bitch" behind my back.

Getting scolded, starved, and beaten became my new reality.

I shrank back, pulling my shoulders in. "Sorry, Mr. Theodore," I whispered.

But even as I yielded, Theodore had no intention of letting me off.

"Hazel, what's this new trick? Slitting your wrists to get our attention?"

"You're too stupid for that. Playing the victim in a lightless dungeon? Even if you bled out and rotted here, no one would give you a second look."

So he still thought I was acting.

I didn't have the strength to argue. I just couldn't understand it. "Don Theodore, why come down here? I thought you hated filthy places like this."

Theodore frowned.

"This estate is my territory. I go where I please. I came to warn you. Today is the celebration for Zoe's official induction into the Family. You'd better behave. At the very least, don't die here."

I nodded obediently.

So he hadn't saved me because he cared, but because he didn't want my blood to ruin Zoe's perfect night.

If that was the case, I would die outside the estate.