Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 93

Benedetta’s POV

The evening's celebration was winding down, but my attention kept returning to the girl.

Aria. The new Montrosso princess. Antonio's latest charity case, elevated from nothing to family status in a single evening.

As I supervised the removal of the champagne glasses from the head table, my gaze fell on the fabric of Aria's gown. The emerald silk caught the light beautifully, its lustrous surface speaking of expensive taste and careful craftsmanship. But it wasn't the beauty of the dress that made my blood run cold—it was the small tear near the hem, and more specifically, the tiny fragment of matching fabric I'd found in the estate gardens earlier that night.

The same fabric. The exact same weave, the exact same color.

I'd discovered the scrap clinging to a rose bush in the secluded grove where Ricardo and I had been sharing our usual clandestine moment. At the time, I'd assumed it came from one of the serving staff who'd stumbled into the wrong area. But now, seeing it match perfectly with this girl's gown, a much more dangerous possibility presented itself.

She was there. She saw us.

The thought should have filled me with immediate concern about protecting my secret relationship with Ricardo. But it was quickly overshadowed by something far more pressing, far more earth-shattering.

Because alongside that fabric fragment, I'd found something else. Something that had turned my entire world upside down in the space of a heartbeat.

Red threads. Crimson silk, woven in a pattern I knew better than my own heartbeat.

I could still feel them in my pocket, those damning fibers that had once formed a bracelet around a small girl's ankle. The same bracelet I'd crafted with my own hands twenty-one years ago, using techniques my grandmother had taught me in the hills of Tuscany. The same unique pattern that no one else in Florence knew how to create.

My eyes moved from Aria's dress to her face, studying her features with the clinical precision of someone who had spent decades cataloguing every detail of the Montrosso bloodline.

Madonna mia. She's not just any orphan girl. She's the real princess.

The realization hit me like a physical blow, but I kept my expression carefully neutral as I continued directing the cleanup around her. Years of survival in this dangerous world had taught me to never reveal my hand until I was ready to play it.

But inside, my mind was racing through implications and possibilities at lightning speed.

If Aria truly was the child I'd raised for five years before abandoning at Sant'Anna Orphanage, then everything I'd built, everything I'd sacrificed for, everything I'd achieved was suddenly in mortal danger. My daughter Adriana's position as the Montrosso heiress. My own status within the family. My relationship with Ricardo. My entire life's work hung in the balance.

But she doesn't know. The thought was both reassuring and infuriating. She has no idea who she really is.

I watched her interact with Antonio, saw the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her, the paternal affection that had puzzled me all evening suddenly making perfect sense. Of course he was drawn to her. Of course she reminded him of someone. She was his actual granddaughter, carrying his deceased daughter-in-law's blood in her veins.

The blood that rightfully made her the true Montrosso princess.

Focus, I commanded myself. Panic is for amateurs. You've survived worse than this.

And I had. I'd orchestrated the original switch under impossibly difficult circumstances. I'd raised two children simultaneously while keeping the truth hidden from everyone, including Ricardo. I'd eliminated obstacles and threats with ruthless efficiency whenever necessary.

This is just another threat to be managed.

But even as I told myself that, I knew this situation was different. More complex. More dangerous.

Because this time, the girl wasn't a helpless five-year-old who could be quietly removed from the equation. She was under Antonio's protection now. She had Damian Cavalieri's interest, if not his actual protection. She was no longer isolated and vulnerable.

But she's not invulnerable.

No one ever was, in my experience. Everyone had weak points, pressure points, people they cared about more than their own safety. The trick was finding the right leverage and applying it with surgical precision.

The sister. The thought came to me with crystal clarity. Jessica. The girl with the kidney condition.

During my brief interaction with Aria earlier in the evening, she'd mentioned having a sister receiving treatment at Sant'Anna Hospital. I'd been probing then, testing to see what emotional buttons I could find to push if necessary. But now that information took on new significance.

Family. It's always about family with these sentimental types.

And from what I'd observed, Aria's devotion to her adopted sister ran deeper than blood. It was the kind of pure, selfless love that made people incredibly predictable.

And incredibly manipulable.

First, I need confirmation.

The red threads in my pocket were compelling evidence, but I'd spent too many years in this business to act on assumptions alone. I needed to verify that this girl was indeed the child I'd abandoned all those years ago. There were ways to confirm identity without arousing suspicion—hospital records from her childhood, perhaps. The nuns at Sant'Anna Orphanage kept meticulous records of their charges. A few carefully placed questions, a modest donation to encourage cooperation, and I'd have all the confirmation I needed.

Second, I need to understand her current situation.

What did she know about her past? What had the nuns told her about how she'd arrived at the orphanage? Had she ever shown any curiosity about her biological family? Most importantly, had she ever suspected that her origins were anything other than ordinary abandonment?

Third, I need to assess the threat level.

How much did Antonio suspect? If he'd begun to connect her appearance to his lost family members, if he was considering any kind of investigation into her background...

That would be problematic.

Anyway, I have to investigate this matter as soon as possible.

Sweet dreams, little princess, I thought as I watched the Cavalieri car disappear into the night. Enjoy your brief moment in the spotlight. It's going to be the last moment of peace you have for quite some time.