All Chapters of The Mafia Princess They Erased: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

My heart sank looking at Nico's screenshot.A surprise? A lie?Of course. Every year on my birthday, they had the perfect excuse."Aurelia, your father has urgent family business.""Aurelia, your mother has a spa day with friends. Have the chef whip up something. Be a good girl."Ten years. I waited for them to call. Like a pathetic dog.This year was a new low. They didn't even bother with an excuse.They just got a new daughter.I threw my phone on the bed. My chest ached. It was hard to breathe.The screen lit up again. Nico. "Aurelia, don't overthink this. Dad and Mom, they…"I typed back one word. "Whatever."Overthink it?How else could I think about it?The truth was right in front of my face.I was Aurelia Cassano. A princess of the family.And I was just a prop to make another woman's life look perfect."Yes, the champagne-colored roses."My mother's voice. Hushed, in the hallway outside my door."Get the biggest, most vibrant ones. Bianca loves champagne. I want her to be abs

I walked through the crowd, champagne in hand.On stage, my father was raising his glass.His voice boomed across the hall. "Thank you all for coming! Let's raise a glass to our family's treasure. Happy birthday!"POP! Confetti cannons exploded.The crowd cheered."Our family?"My voice, cold and sharp, cut through the noise.The music screeched to a halt.Every single head turned to me.On stage, the happy family's smiles froze."Aurelia…" My mother saw me. Her face went white.She hiked up her dress and ran down the steps, reaching for my hand.I flinched back, disgusted. I wouldn't let her touch me."What are you doing here?!" My father marched toward me, his Don persona in full force. His eyes were dark, dangerous. "Do you know what today is? Stop this nonsense and go home!""Nonsense?"I laughed out loud. And I smashed my champagne glass on the floor.Shards of glass and wine sprayed across the carpet."The Don of Chicago throws a massive party for an outsider in his own home! But

Lights danced on the big screen.The picture changed.Five years old. Me in a tiny, custom-made riding outfit. Stumbling around the heavily guarded stables.Seven years old. My face smeared with paint. Holding up a messy drawing in the art studio.Ten years old. Clutching that old teddy bear. Sitting on the couch in an empty living room, waiting. The cold silhouettes of bodyguards patrolling outside.In the background, Dad's voice came through the speakers, low and trembling."I thought… conquering Chicago's underworld… was the best way to protect you.""I was wrong. I made the Cassano empire my only mission."A heavy sigh echoed through the speakers. Tired. Broken."No one knows. The Don of this city… hands soaked in my enemies' blood… but I couldn't even hold my own daughter."The screen went dark.Twelve years old. My massive, empty bedroom at the estate. Me, alone, making a wish over a small cake with a single candle.Fifteen years old. Passed out on a pile of design sketches. Tear

My verdict landed in the silence.My words snuffed out the last spark of hope in my parents' eyes.I walked past Nico's rigid shoulders, straight to the restored sports car.My heels were silent on the thick carpet. Only my ragged breathing gave me away.I stopped at the front of the car.My fingers traced the cool metal body.The paint was flawless. Not a single scratch under the bright lights.This was the gift I used to dream of.I waited summer after summer for it.I turned around. My gaze was calm as I faced the three people who sat at the apex of Chicago's underworld."At ten, I didn't give a damn about a vacation in Sicily," I looked into my father's eyes. "I just wanted ten minutes of your day. Just to sit on the sofa and have a glass of hot milk with me. Not to listen to you take another overseas call about a gang war."My father's lips trembled. His eyes were a frightening shade of red."At twelve, I didn't need a princess dress covered in crystals," I turned to my mother. "I

I stayed locked in that suite for three days. In a hotel owned by my enemy.For three days, I replayed the "Gift for the Princess."The dusty gown. The voided tickets. The video of my family falling apart in the ruins of their grand plan.We were all bleeding.I finally understood. The wall of ice I built didn't just lock them out. It locked me in.On the third afternoon, I pulled out the USB drive. I checked out.The moment I pushed open the door to the Cassano estate, it was silent. You could hear a pin drop.No squads of bodyguards. No maids rushing around.I slipped off my shoes and walked into the living room.My old diary from when I was a teenager sat right in the middle of the coffee table.Next to it was that faded photo of me at seven in Sicily, hugging my teddy bear.A peace offering.A small noise came from the kitchen.My mother walked out carrying a plate of freshly baked biscotti.She wore no makeup. Her hair was pulled back simply. She was in plain house clothes. The po