Mistrust

Prologue

The name Morana is primarily a female name of Slavic origin that means Death, Illness. In Slavic mythology, Morana is the name of the goddess of winter and death.

I am the heiress to one of the world's greatest mafias, daughter of a man that doesn't have the word mercy in his vocabulary... Seth Dimitri

Yet he somehow managed to love my mother and I immensely, showing us luxuries that one can only imagine to see while gifting us with precious jewels and artifacts in exchange for our love and loyalty. People look at us in awe but little do they know about what happens behind closed doors.

I sometimes think that even a man as ruthless as my father is better than the woman who gave birth to me. I never got to experience what it is like to be shown affection by the person you supposedly call your mother.

I never addressed that woman as mom or mommy like most children, she didn't deserve the love and warmth that came from those terms so for as long as I can remember, mother was the only word I could use when speaking with her as it was the bare minimum of my respect.

Even though my father would result to violence when he was enraged, he never once laid a finger on me nor did he let anyone else do so for that matter. He would rather beat my mother instead of me if I were to do something that angered him which is one of the many reasons I think that woman hates me with such passion.

She would always tell me that her biggest mistake was giving birth to me and that she was not fast enough to snap my neck as soon as I came out of her as the nurses took me away to see my father in one swift move.

She told me that her life would've been so much better if the lord above hadn't cursed her with such a treacherous demon that took away all her light thus she named me Morana.

Morana Isabella Dimitri is my identity that I've come to love instead of resent with each day that passes. It had become tremendously easier to accept myself for who I am as i began to differentiate between right and wrong along with good and bad. I saw that I was nothing more than a helpless child and my mother should've seen that instead of blaming me for taking the spotlight.

Many people would blame themselves for others misery but I don't, if anything my father has thought me well enough. It took me long enough to realize that I wasn't the problem but SHE WAS. She was jealous of me, jealous of the fact that my father loved me more than her, jealous that I would one day claim this entire empire and she wouldn't benefit off of anything.

The mansion I live in - no the prison I'm kept captive in is disguised to be a palace that only royalty could step foot in besides the servants of course. The palace is huge yet I only ever explored less than half of it throughout my childhood.

Growing up I was never allowed to leave the palace, everything I ever needed was already in my reach except for the one thing I longed for and needed most, freedom.

Every wall was painted white as my father thought he could disguise this hell hole in the color of purity but I saw right through that. There were many statues and monuments at almost every corner of the palace that looked like they were placed there to guard and keep me from leaving, everyday I would see the joy on their stone faces that always remained the same as they witnessed my misery and it just made me want to run far away not only from them but also from my wicked mother who emotionally and physically abused me until I was old enough to stand up against her.

She instilled the fear of the devil in me so I knew better than to utter anything against her to my father. I now know that I would rather be sold to the devil than suffer and get tortured by her so once I outgrew my fear, I one day told everything to my father. He took her to the study and I quickly ran to put my ear next to the door as soon as it closed so I could hear what they said.

"Touch my daughter again and I wont think twice before slitting your throat while I watch every last bit of life drain from your eyes Beatrice, take this as your first and final warning." was the last thing I heard before my mother came crying out of the room.

That was the first time I ever heard my father say anything of that sort to my mother and the last time she even bothered to spare me glance.

I later accepted the fact that she would never love me, so I carried on with my life and excelled in everything I did just so I could spite my mother and see the envy burn through her eyes as she saw my success. I wanted to make her regret each moment she inflicted pain on me and for not showing me the love I deserved.

I was homeschooled by the finest tutors money could buy and I was trained by the most skillful of my father's men. I finished homeschooling by the time I turned 15 as a result of me doing exceptionally well and I was able to take down any one of my father's most skilled fighters and assassins.

To this day people say that I'm my father's greatest project. I don't know if I should be amused or insulted by their words. All I know is that what I have achieved so far is the fruit of my own hardwork, perseverance and dedication.

I am and will always be my own person.

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A/n: Thank you all for reading <3
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