The Mafia Heiress They Called Trash

My adoptive father is the head of one of the most powerful Mafia families in the country, and he raised me with one rule: never start trouble, but never back down from it either. When the Morelands finally bring me home as their long-lost biological daughter, Sloane, the girl they raised in my place, greets me with a warm smile and a cup of tea. The moment my fingers touch the cup, she suddenly collapses with blood running down her wrist and cries, “Why did you cut me?” My supposed brother immediately turns on me and orders me out of the house, but instead of defending myself, I crouch beside Sloane, pull out a knife, and hold the blade just above her wound. “The cut is deeper on the left, shallow on the right, and the edges are clean.” I look straight into her trembling eyes. “You made this cut yourself with your right hand.” - Julian presses a handkerchief against Sloane’s wrist and shoves me back. “What the hell are you talking about?” Sloane leans into him, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Julian, don’t blame her. Maybe I really did it to myself by accident.” He turns on me. “This is the Moreland house, not the DeLuca family. Put the knife away and stop acting like some thug. Apologize to Sloane.” I look at the two of them and say nothing. That only makes him angrier. Before he can slam his hand against the table, Catherine Moreland steps between us and catches his arm. “Enough. Your sister just got home.” Then she calls for the housekeeper and tells her to show me to my room. Just like that, Sloane’s little setup is brushed aside. The housekeeper leads me through most of the mansion, farther and farther from the main rooms, until we reach a narrow guest wing near the back of the property. She opens the door. The room is clean but barely furnished, with an old bed, a narrow dresser, and none of the flowers, fresh linens, or expensive details I passed on the way here. The housekeeper gives me a thin smile. “Miss Sloane thought you might prefer somewhere quiet. Somewhere you won’t disturb anyone while you train.” I glance back toward the main house. Sloane’s suite is upstairs, bright and spacious, with a private sitting room and a balcony overlooking the garden. I almost laugh. So this is how the Morelands welcome their “lost daughter.” I kick my duffel beside the bed, set the case holding my knives against the wall, and lie down without changing. Dinner is worse. The dining table is long enough to seat twenty people, but there are only five of us. I walk in wearing the same fitted black tactical jacket and combat pants I arrived in and take the empty seat without asking. Julian looks me over and frowns. “I don’t care what you wore with the DeLucas. Now that you’re here, you represent this family. Stop dressing like that.” I pick up my fork. Across from me, Sloane dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “You’ll get used to it,” she says softly. “Women in our circle grow up learning how to dress for galas, what to wear to formal dinners, and how to behave at events like these.” I swallow my food and look at her. “I haven’t spilled anything. I’m not chewing with my mouth open. What exactly am I doing wrong?” Her smile tightens. “I’m only trying to help.” “Then eat.” Her eyes widen. I gesture toward her plate. “You’re the one giving me a lecture about dinner manners while talking through the entire meal.” Sloane’s eyes immediately turn red. Catherine lets out a tired sigh. “Tessa, she means well.” She places a piece of fish on my plate. I stare at it for a second. Back with the DeLucas, nobody cared which fork I used or whether my clothes came from a designer store. We ate together after long days, argued across the table, stole food off each other’s plates, and nobody ever made me feel like I had to earn the right to sit there. They may not share my blood. But right now, they feel more like family than anyone in this house. Before I can answer Catherine, footsteps sound outside the dining room. A staff member appears at the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Moreland, Preston Hayes is here.” The room goes still. A moment later, a tall man walks in, impeccably dressed, with the polished confidence of someone born into old money. His eyes find me first. They pause on my clothes, and his mouth tightens with open disgust. Then he takes a folded document from inside his jacket and places it on the table. “Mr. and Mrs. Moreland, I know finding your biological daughter should be a happy occasion.” His gaze shifts back to me. “But I won’t honor the engagement.” Catherine’s face changes. Preston doesn’t even look at her. “She was raised by the DeLucas. She has no manners, no understanding of our world, and no place in the Hayes family. The Moreland name doesn’t make trash respectable.” Silence drops over the table. Everyone looks at me. Maybe they expect me to be humiliated, or even beg. I pick up the papers, skim the first page, and toss them back across the table. “Good.” Preston’s jaw tightens. I meet his eyes. “I don’t marry cowards.”

The dining room goes completely silent. Catherine forces a smile and starts to stand, but Preston is still staring at me. I lean back in my chair. “You heard me. Take your papers and get out.” Preston’s face darkens. “Of course. The DeLucas really did raise you to be this kind of woman.” “Remember what you said today, Tessa. I would never marry you.” I don’t even bother looking at him again. Preston turns and storms out. Sloane immediately follows him. “Preston, don’t be angry. Tessa has a temper, but she didn’t mean to embarrass you.” “She grew up in a very different environment. There are things no one ever taught her. Please don’t hold that against her.” “She can’t even compare to you.” I calmly take another sip of water. Julian slams his palm against the table. “Look what you’ve done!” “You’ve been home for one day. First Sloane gets hurt, and now you’ve destroyed the engagement with the Hayes family.” “Do you have to humiliate this family every chance you get?” I laugh. “Is the Moreland name so worthless that you need to marry off a daughter to the Hayes family to protect it?” “If I embarrass you that much, send me back to the DeLucas.” “If you can’t do that, shut your mouth.” Julian stares at me, too angry to answer, before finally turning and walking away. That night, I go back to my room and unpack the rest of my things. When I open my bag, a folded note slips out from between my clothes. I recognize Vincent’s handwriting immediately. There is only one line. Tessa, if the Morelands give you any trouble, come home. If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you. I stare at the words for a few seconds before a smile touches my lips. I fold the note carefully and slip it into my pocket, then run my fingers over the knife beside my bed. Not that he’ll get much chance to protect me. No one has ever made me take an insult lying down, and the Morelands won’t be the first. At dawn the next morning, I’m already training out back. I raise my handgun, aim at the paper target, and empty the magazine. After the last shot, I pull off my ear protection. Nearly every hole is clustered around the bull’s-eye. Footsteps sound behind me. Sloane approaches with several members of the household staff. Her wrist is wrapped in fresh bandages, and she still looks pale. “Tessa, could you please stop doing this around the house?” She glances at the gun in my hand as if it frightens her. “You’re scaring the staff. What if you accidentally hurt someone? Mom will only worry.” I drop the magazine, set the gun aside, and walk straight toward her. “Who’s scared?” Sloane pauses. I stop in front of her. “Have them step forward. I’ll apologize myself.” The staff behind her exchange glances. No one speaks. “Well?” I ask. “I thought they were terrified of me.” Sloane’s cheeks begin to flush. “They obviously wouldn’t say it in front of you.” “Then you made it up.” Her expression freezes. I glance at the staff behind her. “Yesterday it was you. Today it’s them?” I look back at Sloane. “Do you always need someone else to back up your lies?” “I never said that!” “Good.” I turn toward the staff behind her. “If I’ve threatened any of you, or if any of you think I’m going to hurt someone, step forward.” Silence. Sloane takes a step back. I take one forward. “Not one?” She backs up again until she hits the wall. “I was only trying to help!” Footsteps come from the side. Catherine is passing through the corridor and has seen the entire exchange. She stops. Her brows pull together slightly. For once, she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking at Sloane. Sloane immediately goes pale. “I was only worried she might hurt someone,” she says, her voice breaking. “Why does Tessa have to corner me like this?” She covers her face and runs off. I watch her go and let out a quiet laugh. It’s only my second day here. Already, her act is getting harder to maintain. But apparently, she isn’t ready to stop. That afternoon, I cross the garden on my way back to the main house. Near the terrace, I hear Sloane speaking in a low voice. “You saw her yesterday, Preston. She grew up around the DeLucas.” “She doesn’t understand our world at all.” I stop walking. Sloane continues. “She doesn’t even know what to wear to a formal dinner. Imagine taking her to a charity gala or any event that matters. She’d embarrass the Hayes family the moment she walked in.” She pauses, her voice turning softer. “I just feel sorry for you.” Preston answers almost immediately. “Don’t compare yourself to her.” “One look at a woman like that makes me sick. At least you know how to behave. She—” I step out into the open. “Having fun talking about me?” They both turn. The smile disappears from Sloane’s face.

“Having fun talking about me?” Preston and Sloane both turn around. I point at the staff behind me. “They heard everything you just said.” “Want me to go to the Hayes house and tell Preston’s mother exactly how you talk about me behind my back?” Sloane goes pale. Preston glares at me. “Don’t make things up.” “Sloane and I are just friends. You’re the one making it dirty.” But with several staff members watching him, he doesn’t stay long. He turns and leaves. Sloane looks annoyed, but she points to the limited-edition designer bag on the table. “You misunderstood. Preston only came to bring me this.” She runs her fingers over the gold clasp, looking pleased with herself. “I doubt you saw things like this very often with the DeLucas.” When I don’t react, she touches the diamond earring at her ear. “This is from Preston too.” “Now that you live with the Morelands, you should learn to dress properly.” I glance at the designer bag, then at the diamonds on her ears. “Keep them.” I look back at her. “What I wear is none of your business. Worry about yourself.” For the next few days, Sloane keeps her distance. Then the Morelands’ charity gala approaches. Catherine announces that she will formally introduce me as the daughter they finally found. The night before the gala, the housekeeper brings a deep red gown to my room. I check it and quickly find that the stitching at the waist has been cut halfway through from the inside. A few steps in that dress, and it will split open in front of everyone. I don’t touch the damaged stitching. I leave it exactly as I found it. Sloane walks in. “Does it fit? Mom picked it herself.” I put the gown back down. “Perfectly. Tell her thank you.” Sloane smiles and leaves. I quietly follow her. When she gets back to her room, she tells a young maid, “Tomorrow during the gala, put this in Tessa’s room.” She hands her a diamond bracelet. I recognize it. It’s Catherine’s Moreland family heirloom. The maid goes pale. “Miss Sloane, I can’t. If they find out, I’ll lose my job.” Sloane looks at her coldly. “Who’s paying for your mother’s treatment?” The maid freezes. “I can keep paying, or I can stop.” Tears fill the maid’s eyes. “Please don’t stop. I’ll do it.” I hear every word from outside. The gown was only the first step. The bracelet is the second. This time, I don’t confront Sloane. I let her finish what she started. Then I quietly tell two staff members I trust to keep their eyes on her and the maid until tomorrow night. The next evening, luxury cars fill the drive outside the Moreland mansion. Guests pour into the ballroom. I walk in wearing a sharp black tactical-style outfit. The noisy room goes quiet. Catherine sees me and immediately frowns. “Tessa, why are you dressed like that?” “Do you know what kind of event this is?” Whispers spread around us. “That’s the Morelands’ missing daughter?” “I heard she was raised by the DeLucas.” “No wonder she has no manners.” Sloane quickly walks over. “Mom, don’t blame her.” “Tessa’s never been to a gala like this before. Of course she doesn’t know what to wear.” I let her finish. Then I pull away from her and gesture to one of the staff. “Bring me the gown that was delivered to my room last night.” A moment later, the dress is placed in my hands. I grab the waist and pull. The cut lining and damaged stitching are exposed in front of everyone.