They Made Me A Slave I Became Their Queen Novel by Mafuyu _ Novel




They Made Me A Slave I Became Their Queen Chapter 01

My godfather tricked me into believing our family was massacred to punish me. When I'm finally died, why is he regret? What for?
On a rainy night in Manhattan, New York, my eighteenth birthday gala was torn apart by gunshots.
My fiancé—Vincent Vito, the young master of the Vito family—washed the estate in blood with his armed confidants.
My godfather, Don Saint Donovan of the Corleone Mafia, took a fatal bullet for me; a blood hole left on his chest as he collapsed at my feet.
He gripped my wrist, using his last breathe: "Protect your sister Camilla Corleone. Don't let her get a single drop of blood on her hands."
For this dying wish, I laid down the dignity of Ms. Corleone, dropping down all of my weapons, and became Vincent's prisoner.
For the next three years, I lived in a tin cubicle in a pier warehouse, my clothes soaked in the stench of mold and engine oil; I ate cold pizza crumbs and sour spaghetti left over from the kitchen, sometimes unable to even get a sip of clean water.
By day, I scrubbed hundreds of uniforms in the family laundry room until my hands were pale and ulcerated; by night, I was shoved into a black van and sent to the underground hideouts of various Syndicate factions, reduced to a tool for rough men to vent their lust.
They were the lowest-level thugs of the family, reeking of smoke, alcohol, and hostility, never treating me like a human being.
Seeing that Camilla's eighteenth birthday was approaching, I took advantage of the guards' laxity and sneaked out to find Vincent, covered in grease and scars, only to beg him to let my sister leave this muddy water.
Yet outside his private cigar room, I stumbled upon a conversation that was enough to freeze me to the bone.
"Godfather, Sophia has suffered at the bottom for three years. Her arrogant temper from back then has been mostly ground away. Shouldn't this punishment stop?"
Vincent's voice carried a deliberate respect, the cigar at his fingertips burning with blue smoke.
From the cigar room came the voice I thought had long been buried in the family cemetery—Santo Corleone's cold, hard tone: "It's about time.
If she hadn't publicly exposed Camilla for stealing the Batista family's territory expansion plan at the East Coast Mafia Summit back then, making the Corleone's lose face, I wouldn't have had to ally with the Vitos to stage this betrayal."
"Camilla is almost eighteen. I bought her an ocean-view estate on Long Island, and she has finally agreed to forgive Sophia.
On the day of her birthday gala, I will announce the truth and restore Sophia's identity.
She is my chosen heir. If she can't even endure this bit of underworld hardship, how can she take charge of the Corleone businesses and territories?"

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