Fated To The Mafia King

V

Celia sat in her room, painting her nails while humming a tune from the previous night’s ball. The memory of the evening lingered like a warm glow in her heart—it had been magical, a night she would treasure forever. After carefully finishing the last stroke of polish, she reached to place the bottle back in the drawer. Suddenly, the door burst open. Startled, she flinched, nearly knocking over the bottle. Her wide eyes darted to the intruder—it was her stepmother, Rosetta, her face twisted with rage.

"How dare you!" Rosetta stormed in, crossing the room in just a few strides. Before Celia could react, a sharp slap stung her cheek, leaving her momentarily stunned.

"Because of you, my daughter got scolded!" Rosetta hissed, grabbing Celia’s wrist in a bruising grip. "You selfish little—"

"CELIA!" Ricardo’s commanding voice cut through the air like a whip. Rosetta froze, releasing Celia’s wrist immediately and stepping back. Her expression shifted, feigning composure as she turned to face Ricardo.

Celia’s father entered the room, his face dark with anger. Behind him trailed Viviana, her stepsister, looking pale and visibly upset. Her usual confidence was gone, replaced by unmistakable guilt in her eyes. She looked at Celia, then quickly looked away, clutching the fabric of her dress as though trying to steady herself.

"Where were you last night?" Ricardo demanded, his voice hard as steel. His eyes bore into Celia, leaving no room for escape.

"I... I..." Celia stammered, glancing at Viviana with pleading eyes, silently begging for support.

"You went to a ball without my permission!" Ricardo roared, his fury making Celia flinch again. Her shoulders trembled under the weight of his wrath.

Viviana stood quietly behind her father, her head bowed slightly. She hadn’t wanted this—none of it. She hadn’t told anyone, not even her mother, about Celia’s escape. She only wanted Celia to have a taste of freedom, if just for one night. But now, standing here as her father’s anger filled the room, she felt the crushing weight of regret. Viviana’s sadness deepened as she watched Celia shrink under their father’s fury, powerless to stop what she had unknowingly set in motion.

"I'm sorry. It will never happen again, Papa," Celia whispered, her voice trembling as she kept her head bowed.

"Never happen again? How can I trust you, Celia, when you've already broken my trust once?" Ricardo’s voice was sharp, each word striking like a lash.

Celia’s breath hitched as Ricardo’s words hung heavy in the air. Her eyes darted to Viviana again, silently pleading for her stepsister to intervene. Viviana shifted uncomfortably, her hands clasping tighter at the fabric of her dress.

"Papa," Viviana’s voice was soft, almost trembling. "It wasn’t her fault."

Ricardo’s gaze snapped to Viviana, his eyebrows knitting together. "What are you saying?"

Viviana hesitated, her voice faltering. "I… I told her about the ball," she confessed, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought it would be harmless. I didn’t think—"

"You what?" Ricardo’s voice was low, dangerous.

Rosetta stepped forward, her expression darkening. "Viviana, stop this nonsense. Don’t you dare take responsibility for her disobedience!"

But Viviana stood her ground, though her hands trembled. "It’s true. I gave her my dress and told her to go. If you want to blame someone, blame me."

Celia’s heart twisted at the sight of Viviana’s guilt-ridden face. "No, Papa," she said quickly, stepping forward. "Viviana didn’t force me. I wanted to go. I wanted to feel… normal for once."