I Was The Mafia’s Maid Now I’m Their Regret Chapter 18
“Mom, I already told you, you didn’t need to come. I’m doing well.”
“I saw the news about you.”
She looked at me, choosing her words carefully.
“I didn’t understand a lot of it, but everyone kept saying how incredible you are. First in the world.”
A small smile slowly appeared on her face.
“You’re my daughter.”
I had waited eighteen years to hear those words.
Before, she only ever said them to Francesca and Nico.
Now that I had actually heard them, I felt nothing at all.
I looked at her, my tone even.
“No one is required to love me. You don’t need to change for me. Let things stay the way they are.”
She raised a hand to wipe at her tears.
“I’m sorry, Cosima. For everything.”
“Going to Iceland without telling you, and what happened with your admission letter…”
“It’s all in the past.”
I didn’t let her continue.
“Mom, do you know how many times I’ve won?”
She blinked and shook her head.
“From the age of ten until now—eight years—I’ve won one hundred and seventy-two gold medals.”
She stood there, motionless.
“And every single time, you thought those things were useless.”
“Because in your eyes, Francesca represented the Family’s image, and Nico would inherit Father’s position. I was the only one with no formal status, so nothing I did counted.”
“I used to bring my certificates to you because I just wanted to hear you praise me, just once.”
“I don’t need that anymore.”
Mom took a black leather booklet out of her bag.
I recognized it instantly. It was the service ledger from my father’s study.
She opened it to the last page. For the first time ever, my name was there, with my father’s signature beside it:
*Cosima Marino, Candidate for Family Security Advisor.*
“Your dad said that if you’re willing to come back, all your past records can be added. You can have a formal status, and you can be on the security detail, too.”
I didn’t take it.
A name that hadn’t been written down in eighteen years didn’t suddenly become an act of love just because I’d become number one in the world. What they were acknowledging was a cryptographer the Family could use—not the daughter in the basement, wiping dust off her trophies.
“Take it back.”
Mom slowly closed the service ledger.