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Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 482    |    Released on: 22/10/2025

sia

eded to surviv

p felt cleansing, a penance for a sin I never committed. The work was mindless, grueling. And in the quiet hu

birthday while I worked after school just to afford my own art supplies. My mother, buying her designer g

my shift was ending, the bell

ox. He looked achingly out of place amongst

early lost to the sizzle of the grill. He placed the box o

iceless heirloom painting-a piece of my own dowry-to anonymously provide the seed money for Dante's firs

him with the "investment" as a gift, positioning herself as h

said, my voice level and empty.

a shrill, demanding sound. He answered, and the blood se

's on the roof?" he g

eading for something I no lo

k to the sink full of dir

r. Torn. Then, as always, he chose her. He rushed out

alculated act in the long-running drama of her life, a maneuver designed

water. The chaos of their world felt a million miles a

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Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison
Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison
“Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift-a way to protect me from a worse fate. Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes." My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life. They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous. They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word. It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash. That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept."”