Four Orphan Girls Raised To Be The Mafia Heir’s Wife. And I Only Wanted His Empire. Chapter 01
The Auction
There are four of us. All orphan girls, handpicked before we were old enough to remember our own names.
Victoria Kain raised us in her mansion, dressed us in silk, kept us in cashmere and pearls. Not out of love. Out of strategy.
We were candidates. Products. Four options for her mafia prince son to pick a bride from.
One would become Mrs. Kain. The other three? Disposed of.
Today, she finally said it out loud.
We’re sitting in the main parlor of the Kain estate, lined up on a velvet sofa like dolls on a shelf.
The chandelier above us costs more than most people’s homes. The air smells like tuberose and old money, so sweet it makes my teeth ache.
Victoria sits across from us, legs crossed, a teacup balanced in her manicured hand. Her face is pulled tight from her last procedure, and her smile looks warm. It isn’t. It’s the kind of smile you practice in a mirror until it’s perfect.
“Girls.” Her gaze sweeps over us, slow and appraising. “You’ve been part of this family for over a decade now. You’ve all grown into such lovely young women. I’m proud.”
She pauses, letting the silence do its work.
“Alistair is ready to settle down. And I’ve decided that his wife will be chosen from among you four.”
The air shifts.
Beside me, Maisie’s breath catches. Her cheeks flush pink in an instant. Her fingers grip the edge of her skirt so hard her knuckles go white. She’s already picturing the wedding.
Piper keeps her head down, twisting the hem of her sleeve. She looks calm, but her fingertips are bloodless.
Harper straightens her spine just a little more, composing herself into a portrait of perfection. As if the title of Mrs. Kain is already hers by right.
Three girls, hearts racing, ready to fight for a man who sees them as interchangeable.
I pick up my teacup. Bone china. Earl Grey. Still too hot.
I blow on it gently and watch my own reflection in the amber surface. Not a ripple.
I don’t want to be Alistair Kain’s wife.
See, the other three spent their years here learning flower arrangement. Table etiquette. The art of pleasing a man. Victoria trained them to be ornamental. Soft. Dependent.
But me? She enrolled me in finance. Asset management. How to move money without leaving a trail.
Not because she thought I was special. Because someone had to manage the family books. Someone quiet. Someone obedient. Someone who wouldn’t ask questions.
I learned everything she wanted me to learn. And then I kept learning. How the shell companies worked. Where the money really flowed. Which accounts could be moved and which ones could disappear.
She made a mistake.
I set the teacup down without a sound. The tea is still too hot to drink.
That’s fine. I’m patient.
After dinner, we file back to the annex, the separate wing where the four of us live. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, the composure shatters.
Maisie spins in a circle, hands clasped to her chest, practically glowing.
“I’m going to marry him. Did you hear that? Victoria said it herself!”