I Was The Mafia’s Maid Now I’m Their Regret Chapter 19
I looked away.
“I know that if I go back to that house, and it comes down to a choice between me and Francesca or Nico, you’ll still choose them.”
“You’re willing to give me a formal status now because another Family recognized my value first, not because you finally saw me.”
“You never gave me that love or protection. And I’m not the one who needs to fix that.”
“I don’t need it anymore.”
My mother’s eyes were red, her voice shaking slightly.
After a long silence, she finally asked, “All right. I respect your choice. But… can I come see you sometimes?”
I looked at her and, in the end, nodded.
“You can come. But you can’t bring orders from Father, and you can’t bring that service ledger again.”
“Okay.”
Then I turned and started walking back toward the dorm.
Behind me, I suddenly heard her call out.
“I saw your world championship, and the national competition before that, too!”
“I clipped all your articles and put them in an album!”
“I’ll bring it to you next time!”
I didn’t turn around.
I walked faster and faster, and still, I cried.
When I looked up, the lights were on in my dorm room.
My three roommates were standing by the window, waving at me.
I wiped my eyes and smiled back.
None of it mattered anymore.
At least now, I was doing well.
I had my scholarship, my prize money, and my own research standing. Next year, I would help build an independent lab as a cryptographic engineer.
A lot of people knew me now, and they were genuinely good to me.
Everyone would remember it.
I was Cosima Marino.
That name didn’t need a signature from the head of a family.
It belonged to me first.
The next morning, Mom sent me a photo.
It was the same service ledger.
Under the line Father had already signed, there was now one more sentence:
*Cosima Marino will represent the Marino Family in the establishment of Aurelia Academy’s independent cryptography lab.*
The Family seal was stamped beside it.
Mom quickly sent another message.
“This wasn’t my idea. I only just saw it myself.”
I stared at the word *represent* in the photo for a long time.
My father still didn’t understand.
He thought that if he added one more line to the service ledger, my name would belong to him again.
This time, I didn’t delete the message.