The Mafia Daughter's Survival Guide

Amelia remembered dying.

The ache in her chest, the fading light, and the cold silence that followed. But death hadn't been peaceful. No, it had been a disorienting plunge into darkness, a void that seemed to stretch endlessly. Yet, somehow… she was here.

Her eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar ceiling—cracked and water-stained. The scent of damp wood filled her nostrils, mixed with the faint aroma of stale bread. It was a stark contrast to the sterile scent of the hospital room where she had taken her last breath.

What the hell…?

Amelia blinked, her vision adjusting as she sat up. Her body felt strange—small, fragile. She glanced down, her hands catching her attention first—tiny, chubby fingers curled into fists. Her heart pounded. She was in a child's body.

No…

Panic surged through her veins as she tried to stand, but her legs wobbled, barely supporting her. She stumbled forward and caught herself on the edge of a worn wooden bed, her breathing shallow.

"This… isn't possible," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But the sound that escaped her lips was high-pitched, innocent. A child's voice.

Her pulse quickened. She looked around the small room. Cracked walls, a single wooden wardrobe with a rusted handle, and a dusty window that barely let in any light.

"Where am I?" she murmured, her mind racing.

Memories flooded back.

She was Amelia Santos, thirty-two years old, a corporate shark who clawed her way to the top. Life had been a relentless battle of ambition, power, and control. She had no time for love, friends, or even family. Work consumed her, and in the end… it had taken her life.

But now?

She was a child again, maybe six or seven years old. But her mind? It was still the mind of a hardened woman who had tasted life and death.

"Reincarnation," she whispered, the word tasting foreign on her tongue. "This… isn't a dream."

A sharp knock echoed through the small room.

"Amelia! Get up!" A woman's voice—harsh and impatient.

Before she could respond, the door swung open. A stout woman with thinning gray hair and an ever-present scowl stood in the doorway. Her eyes were cold, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Breakfast is in ten minutes. If you're late again, you'll go hungry."

Amelia's jaw clenched, but she gave a small nod. The woman didn't wait for a reply before slamming the door shut.

"I guess her name is still Amelia" she murmured. Then looked around.

An orphanage?

Amelia glanced around again, piecing things together. The bare room. The tone of authority. The distant sound of children's voices echoing down the hall.

Great. Just great.

☆☆☆

Days passed, blending into weeks. Amelia quickly learned the rules of the orphanage. Silence was rewarded. Obedience was expected. And asking too many questions earned you a punishment that left bruises.

The other children were a mixture of curious and wary of her. She was quiet... too quiet for a child, and they didn't know how to handle her mature demeanor. Amelia didn't bother trying to fit in. She was biding her time, observing, calculating.

But despite her attempts to keep her head down, she attracted the wrong kind of attention.

"Hey, freak."

Amelia's head tilted up from the worn-out book she had been pretending to read. Three boys, maybe ten years old, stood in front of her, their smirks dripping with cruelty. The leader, a lanky boy with greasy blond hair, kicked the table beside her, making it rattle.

"You're too quiet," he sneered. "Think you're better than us?"

Amelia sighed. Idiots.

She had dealt with corporate sharks who would chew these brats up and spit them out. But she wasn't about to get into a fight with a bunch of children.

"Leave me alone," she muttered, her voice devoid of emotion.

The boy's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"I said…" Amelia stood, her gaze meeting his with unnerving calmness. "Leave. Me. Alone."

Her tone, though soft, carried a weight that made the boy hesitate. For a moment, he looked uncertain. But pride pushed him forward, and he grabbed her arm roughly.

Amelia's instincts kicked in.

Wrong move.

She twisted her wrist, using his momentum against him, and yanked herself free. The boy stumbled, his eyes wide with shock.

"Don't touch me again," she warned, her voice colder than any child's should be.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then, the boy muttered something under his breath and stormed off, his minions following closely behind.

"Idiots," she murmured, sitting back down.

☆☆☆

Weeks passed. Amelia had grown accustomed to the monotony of the orphanage. But everything changed one rainy afternoon.

The children had been gathering towards the dining hall due to the storm outside. The air was thick with the scent of watery porridge and stale bread. Amelia sat by herself as usual, her mind elsewhere.

That's when he arrived.

A man, dressed in a sleek black suit, stepped through the front doors. His presence commanded attention, sending a ripple of unease through the room. He was tall, with sharp features, dark hair slicked back, and eyes that missed nothing.

Dangerous.

Amelia recognized that aura instantly. She had dealt with powerful men before, but this one? He was in a league of his own.

The headmistress, for once, seemed flustered as she hurried to greet him. Her tone was sugary sweet, a stark contrast to how she treated the children.

"Mr. De Luca," she simpered, her hands wringing together. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

De Luca?

Amelia's stomach twisted. That name… It wasn't just familiar. It was infamous.

Lorenzo De Luca. A powerful figure in the criminal underworld. Mafia. Ruthless. Untouchable.

What the hell was he doing in an orphanage?

"I'm looking for a child," Lorenzo said, his tone cool and detached. His voice was smooth, yet devoid of warmth.

The headmistress blinked. "A child? I… of course. Any specific—"

"A boy," Lorenzo interrupted, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Someone who can read and write."

His tone was clipped, as if this was a waste of his time.

The headmistress beamed. "Of course, Mr. De Luca. We have several—"

"Show me."

The tension in the room thickened as a handful of boys were brought forward. They looked terrified, shifting under Lorenzo's icy gaze as he asked them to read from a small piece of paper. One by one, they stumbled over words, their voices shaking.

Lorenzo's jaw tightened with each mistake. His patience was razor-thin.

But then…

"Excuse me."

Amelia's voice, calm and steady, cut through the silence.

Lorenzo's head turned sharply, his cold eyes narrowing as they landed on her.

"What do you want?" His tone was laced with disdain, as if the conversation itself offended him.

Amelia didn't flinch. She met his gaze head-on, her chin slightly raised. "I can read and write," she said simply.

The room went deathly quiet.

Lorenzo's expression was unreadable, but his eyes—dark, calculating—assessed her.

"Prove it," he murmured, his voice a low command.

Without hesitation, Amelia took the paper from his hand. The words were complex for a child, but for her? It was elementary. She read each word with precision, her tone smooth, her posture unyielding.

When she finished, silence filled the room once more.

Lorenzo's lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of… something.

His gaze lingering on her longer than necessary that makes Amelia to hold the adultsized shirt she's wearing.

"Mr. De Luca, she's a girl," the headmistress began, her voice dripping with fake concern.

"She'll do," Lorenzo interrupted, his tone final.

Amelia's stomach clenched.

☆☆☆

The rain hadn't stopped by the time they left.

Amelia sat in the backseat of a sleek black car, her small hands folded in her lap as she stared out the window. The city blurred past, the world outside cold and unforgiving.

Lorenzo sat beside her, silent.

His presence was suffocating. He hadn't said a word since they left the orphanage, and he made no effort to acknowledge her existence. His posture was relaxed, but there was an undeniable tension in the air.

Stoic. Cold. Arrogant.

Amelia recognized his type. Men like him didn't show kindness. They commanded respect through fear and control.

But Amelia wasn't just any child.

She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His jaw was clenched, his gaze focused on the road ahead. There was no warmth. No curiosity.

He doesn't care.

And that was fine with her. All she want is to escape that orphanage for her own sake.

I'll figure this out.

But as the car sped deeper into the city's underbelly, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling that she had just stepped into a world far more dangerous than she had ever known.

And this time?

Survival wasn't a choice. It was a necessity.