The Mafia Princess Who Slept in the Storage Room
1.2k Views · Ongoing · Lyric Ross
The day we moved into the new estate on the hill, every bedroom had a name next to it. The master suite for my parents. The east wing for my brother, Luca. And the best room in the house, the south suite overlooking the Hudson, was labeled Sofia's Room. My name wasn't anywhere. Out in the hallway, a workman was screwing brass nameplates onto every bedroom door. None of them said Chiara. Ten years ago, Sofia's father, Dad's underboss, walked into a burning warehouse to get Luca back from the Ferrantes and never walked out. At his funeral, my father swore that Sofia was his daughter now. In our family, the Don's word is law, and somehow the debt had always been mine to pay. When I asked Mom where I was supposed to sleep, she replied casually, "Aren't you leaving for grad school in a few days anyway? Why bother giving you a room?" Then she went back to helping Sofia pick out pink curtains. Luca crouched on the floor holding up fabric samples. Gideon, my boyfriend of three years, hung every one of Sofia's paintings himself because he didn't trust the movers to do it. I sat on a moving box and finally understood. They hadn't forgotten me. They had decided Sofia deserved my room, my family, and even the man who was supposed to love me. So I opened the contract on my phone. A classified federal research facility in the Nevada desert. Five years. No contact with the outside world. I signed it. In ten days, I would disappear from their lives for good.













































