Mafia's Princess(Under Editing)

Chapter 3

Anastasia Rose

It was Monday at last, which meant classes officially started today. I had given myself a brief tour over the weekend, memorizing passages and pathways so I wouldn't get lost.

I woke up feeling a little unsettled. A message from Eunha popped up, wishing me a happy birthday. Normally, it would have made me smile, but this year, it felt hollow. I hadn't celebrated my birthday in over a year, not since my Papa's death. He had always made the day special, ensuring it was memorable no matter what.

I got ready, grabbed my bag—packed with books, my phone, and my wallet—and left the dorm to have breakfast at one of the on-campus cafés.

I had made up my mind: after classes, I would begin searching for my family. They deserved to know their daughter was alive. Whether they would want me or not could wait.

⸻

Alessia Romano

Me, my sons, and my husband were gathered around the breakfast table, a cake in the center with a two-month-old photo of our baby girl on top. If she were here, she would have been turning nineteen today.

We mourned in silence, each of us in our own way. How I wished she were here. We had no idea what had become of our baby. Was she alive? Was she... gone forever? The questions circled endlessly, never answered.

Eighteen years and nine months had passed since she went missing. We had searched every corner of the earth, leaving no stone unturned—but found nothing. Ivano had vanished the same day, which only confirmed he had taken her. But why... that question haunted us still.

Alessandro spent five relentless years searching for both of them, but eventually even he lost hope. A rumour had spread about both of them being dead later on which left us more devastated but our heart still couldn't believe our baby girl was no more.

So it became a ritual. Every year on her birthday, her big brothers and we parents would sit down together, cutting the cake in her honor, praying silently that she was safe—if there was even the faintest chance she was alive.

She was the only girl in the Romano family, and her absence left a wound that refused to heal. My sons, once sweet, bubbly, and full of life—especially around her—had hardened over time. They loved the family, but their warmth was measured, distant.

I watched them carefully. My eldest, Vincenzo, was the coldest, yet quietly protective. He observed rather than participated, the weight of responsibility always evident in his posture.

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, unnoticed by most until Alessandro pulled me into a side hug, rubbing my back gently.

"Don't cry, my love," he murmured.

"I just wish my baby girl was here," I rasped, voice thick with grief.

"I know, amore... I know," he whispered back.(Love)

Dante, my third son, spoke up quietly but audibly enough for all of us to hear. "Mum... is it that bad? My heart says our principessa is alive."(princess)

I squeezed his hand, unsure of what to say.

"Alright, let's cut the cake so Niccolò and Federico can leave... they're getting late," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat as I wiped my tears.

They nodded silently, the unspoken weight of the moment hanging in the air.

⸻

Anastasia Rose

By midday, I had finished two of my classes and headed to the cafeteria for lunch.

The place buzzed with students, laughter, and chatter. Ignoring the noise, I collected my lunch and settled at a vacant table.

A prickling sensation along my sides made me glance up. Several students were staring. How rude.

I glared, and they quickly turned away, muttering excuses to themselves. From a nearby table, I overheard a girl whisper to her friends, "Do you know she's the new scholarship winner this year? Poor thing, has to study on a scholarship." The group laughed.

I scoffed inwardly. What's so bad about studying on scholarship? Hmph.

I resumed eating, only to be disturbed by a sudden rise in noise. The cafeteria buzzed louder, voices overlapping. I looked up and noticed two boys entering. Their backs were turned as they collected their lunches.

Why so loud? Are they... popular freaks or something? I rolled my eyes.

Girls around them were already squealing, whispering, and fawning: "OMG, they're so handsome! I wish I could have one of the twins!"

The boys turned. My breath caught in my throat.

Oh shit... Sherlock. No way.

Their eyes met mine—and froze me in place. Steel grey with flecks of black, identical to mine. Not a tiny difference. My hazel lenses couldn't hide it forever.

They were around twenty, brunette, lean and muscular under fashionable oversized shirts, standing about 6'2". Devilishly handsome—but cold. Completely blank expressions. Ice.

I couldn't move, my fork frozen mid-air.

Why did their eyes looked exactly like mine?

Though steel grey eyes were rare, theirs mirrored mine too closely. Could it really be... my brothers?

I knew about my brothers from my childhood and papa would show me pictures of them too but those were really old pictures and I hadn't seen the grownup versions of my brothers.

So this resemblance really unsettled me.

Suddenly, their gazes shifted toward my table. Their eyes locked onto mine, and I panicked. They can't recognize me, right? I'm wearing lenses...

But the intensity of their stare made my chest tighten. I had to leave. Grabbing my tray, I dumped the trash and bolted from the cafeteria, heading toward one of the large lawns.

I paced back and forth, overwhelmed and confused.

"Hey... wait! Listen!"

I whipped my head around. There they were—standing a few meters away, their faces finally revealing something I hadn't seen before: a storm of emotions.

                                          ******