From Discarded Wife to the Mafia Boss Queen

Chapter One

Giovanni’s POV

The moment I stepped into the hall, a voice cut through the air like a knife.

“Those earrings belong to my mum! Are you trying to steal her things now—after stealing her place?”

Eric’s voice. My ten-year-old stepson. My sister’s son. The boy I raised like my own.

Every head turned toward me. The music stopped. The laughter died.

Eric stood there, trembling with anger, his eyes red. “So now you’re even trying to look like her to get attention? Take them off. Now!”

I froze. My throat went dry.

“Eric, stop it,” I whispered, trying to sound calm even though my chest was tightening.

But instead of stopping, he burst into tears and ran to his father.

“Daddy, she’s trying to steal Mummy’s place! Will you just stand there and watch her?”

My heart cracked. I turned toward my husband—Mark. The man who once promised to protect me.

He just stood there. Watching. Silent. As if enjoying my humiliation.

The crowd murmured. Pity. Disgust. Judgment. Every whisper was another blade.

“I’m only trying to connect with my sister,” I managed to say, my voice trembling.

“Liar. A murderer. You killed her!” Eric screamed.

Gasps filled the room. My knees almost gave way.

It was my birthday too. But nobody remembered that. Because every year, they only celebrated her—my dead twin sister.

The room was spinning. I couldn’t breathe. I ran upstairs before they could see me break.

***

In my room, I collapsed onto the bed and sobbed until my throat burned.

How could a house so big feel this suffocating?

I wanted to scream that I wasn’t her. That I wasn’t trying to replace anyone. But no one cared. They only saw me as a shadow of the woman they lost.

I picked up my phone and dialed my mother.

“Mum, I’m done with this,” I said. “I want a divorce. I can’t stay with Mark and Eric anymore.”

She sighed. “Giovanni… are you serious? Eric is your son now. You promised your sister—”

“Mum, he made it clear I’m not his mother. He hates me. I can’t keep pretending this family isn’t killing me.”

Before she could answer, I heard movement at the door.

“See who’s here pretending to be the victim,” Eric said, smirking.

I hung up quickly. “Eric, why are you doing this?”

“I hate you. Your pretending disgusts me.”

He raised his toy gun—and before I realized it, a jet of burning water mixed with pepper hit my face.

I screamed as my eyes stung. He laughed.

“I’m going to make your life miserable until you leave. This is my mother’s home. You can never take her place.”

He stormed off, leaving me shaking and blinded by tears.

I stumbled out, ready to pack and go. But when I reached the living room—I froze.

My music award—the only thing I’d ever been proud of—lay shattered on the floor.

“Did you like that?” Eric said, smiling. “I heard you love surprises.”

Rage finally broke through the pain. “How could you?” I snapped.

Before he could answer, a hand grabbed my arm and shoved me hard. I fell to the floor, pain shooting through my back.

Mark’s cold voice followed. “Have you gone crazy? Is this how you treat kids? You’re making a scene over an ordinary award?”

Ordinary. To him, everything about me was ordinary.

“Clean up the mess,” he said flatly.

I stayed on the floor, breathing hard. Then I looked up at him, and something in me finally snapped.

“Mark, let’s divorce.”

He froze. His eyes turned to ice.

For the first time, I didn’t care. I was done living like a ghost in my sister’s shadow.