Chapter 2

Adriana's POV

Two words.

Short and calm.

Like she was remarking on the weather, completely emotionless.

I stared at her hard, hunting for even the slightest crack in her expression. But she just went back to rinsing rice at the sink like nothing had happened, the way she did every Sunday before the family gathered.

Right then, the early morning light caught her cold, distant eyes. Seeing that, a sharp pain shot through my heart.

I still remember that winter when I was five. It was Christmas, and I suddenly came down with a high fever. My whole body was shaking, the fever wouldn't break.

It was ten below zero that day, and snow buried the streets, so Mom couldn't flag a car, and none of the Family's drivers dared answer a call that might expose where we were hiding.

Left with no choice, she carried me in her arms, running ten kilometers through thick snow all by herself.

By the time we reached the hospital, her lips were purple from the cold, and her feet were bloody from being sliced open by sharp ice.

But she didn't seem to feel any of it. She only cared about getting me help.

The doctors told her there was nothing they could do. But she dropped to her knees right there in the ER hallway, begging them, over and over, crying and bowing until they agreed to try again.

That was the mother I knew.

The woman who always put mine and my sister's lives before her own.

So why now? Why was she so cold and indifferent?

I didn't say another word. I just waited.

When the results came out, it was exactly what I expected.

The highest honor. Publicly named the shining hope of our bloodline, raised above every other name in the territory's history.

Word traveled fast. First through the neighborhood, then the social clubs, then everywhere the Family's reach touched.

Everyone was talking about me.

[She must be insane! Everyone else kept their heads down, and she goes and lets herself be raised up in front of the whole city? Doesn't she know every honored one ends up dead?]

[I know her. Her sister was raised up the same way three years ago, and she died horribly! There's no way she doesn't know about it!]

[Then what is she thinking? Is she trying to die? Seriously?]

[I heard their mother raised both girls alone, working herself to the bone. The older one died three years back, and now the younger takes the top place? How's the mother supposed to survive losing both her daughters?]

Some were shocked I'd accepted the standing at all. Some pitied my mother, certain she'd bury a second daughter before the year was out. Others called me selfish, said I was courting death and dragging my mother through the grief a second time.

While they argued, I quietly opened a broadcast from my bedroom.

I locked the door, angled the camera so the whole room showed, and went live. What I was about to do would break Omertà wide open, drag the sealed silence before an audience of hundreds of thousands. I knew it. I did it anyway.

Within minutes, the stream exploded. Hundreds of thousands tuned in, the comments flying so fast they filled the screen.

[Is this really the girl they raised up? Why does she look so calm?]

[She's broadcasting this? Seriously? She must be fearless!]

[Do you even care about your mother, who raised you alone?]

[Your sister's already gone. What if something happens to you too? How's your mother supposed to go on?]

[You're so ungrateful! Is your standing really worth more than your life or your mother's?]

The blame came hard and fast.

They called me ungrateful and selfish. They pitied my mother, saying she'd sacrificed everything for us, only to be left alone in her grief again.

But through all of it, I sat still and spoke slowly, like I was telling a story.

"Like everyone's saying, yes, my mother raised me and my sister all by herself. It wasn't easy. We've been through hard times. Hunger, cold, loneliness. Every day was a struggle. But my sister was always so strong. So full of life. She used to tell me all the time to cherish my life and live it well."