Her Mafia King

Marina’s POV

Pim. Pim. Pim…

“Oh no… not so soon,” I groaned, lazily swiping my hand under the pillow to grab my phone. I smashed the stop button before the alarm could shred what was left of my sanity.

Four hours of sleep. That’s all I had. Four hours, and here I was, wide awake. Today was my first day at Harvard University—my dream. My ultimate goal. My battlefield.

I should have been excited, but exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. I’d spent the night preparing, reviewing notes, imagining myself standing in lecture halls full of brilliant minds. Yes, studying. A girl’s gotta fight for her place in a world that doesn’t hand anything away.

I swung my legs over the bed and stretched, feeling every inch of tiredness in my muscles. Then I stood, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, and walked straight to the bathroom. The warm water of the shower was bliss, washing away the lingering fog in my mind. I brushed my teeth, carefully went through my skincare routine—every serum, cream, and moisturizer in place—and finally approached my closet.

My black Versace suits hung perfectly, pressed to perfection, each one ready to command attention. I ran my fingers across the fabric, feeling the elegance, the power, the confidence stitched into every seam.

My eyes drifted to my shoe collection: endless rows of expensive, flawless heels. Trying to count them would be a waste of time—I’d never finish.

And then… the real prize.

My bags.

Not just any bags. My Birkins. Every color, every brand, the latest drops. I may have been just a girl, but I was a very rich, very stylish girl.

I walked to my vanity and stared at my reflection. Perfect skin. Perfect makeup. Simple. Elegant. Breathtaking. A smile tugged at my lips. God really had outdone Himself. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

Extremely rich. Extremely beautiful. Extremely confident.

I had it all… except for one thing.

Friends. Or anyone who could actually claim to know me. Honestly, I didn’t care. People called me boring—I read all day, made money, and lived my life on my own terms. I preferred my own company anyway.

Satisfied, I grabbed my G-Wagon keys. My heels clicked against the tiles as I strutted to my car—sleek, black, luxurious. And yes, it bore my name. Obedient, beautiful, mine.

My neighbors’ jaws dropped. Again. I didn’t care. I was quiet but wicked. People didn’t know how to handle someone who didn’t apologize for existing. I slid in, pressed the key, and the car hummed to life.

---

Arriving at Harvard, heads turned immediately. Whispers floated through the hallways like electric current.

“She’s stunning.”

“Is she real?”

“Who does she think she is?”

“Margherita’s got competition, that’s for sure.”

I rolled my eyes. Attention was exhausting. I wasn’t here to impress anyone—I was here to claim my place. My heels clicked faster as I navigated the hallway, every step precise and deliberate.

Finally, the principal’s office. I took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in, please,” a warm voice called.

Mr. Jones, a man in his forties, greeted me with a smile. “Good morning, Miss Marina. Finally, you’re here. It’s a pleasure.”

“Same here, Mr. Jones,” I said, shaking his hand firmly.

“I’ll show you to your class if you don’t have any objections,” he said.

“Yes, please,” I replied politely.

We walked together, passing students who couldn’t take their eyes off me. I felt their stares, their whispers, but I kept my face neutral, my steps measured.

At a tall wooden door, he stopped.

“Shall we?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said, opening it for me.

The moment I stepped inside, every eye in the room dropped to me. Conversations died mid-air. The room was silent, tense, as if I’d just arrived from another planet.

I knew I was beautiful—but please, stop staring.

“Listen up, everyone,” Mr. Jones said, his voice commanding attention. “This is Miss Marina, our new student. She’s exceptionally intelligent, an A-plus student. I hope you all will be kind to her.”

“Would you like to introduce yourself, Miss Marina?”

I shook my head. Absolutely not. I didn’t need to. I didn’t want to.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Jones,” I said smoothly.

“Very well. My office is always open if you need anything. Have a wonderful day.”

With that, he left.

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Everyone seemed intimidated by my composed, straight face. A few girls waved cautiously, their giggles soft and tentative. I waved back, amused by their little victories.

Choosing a seat was challenging—everyone wanted me—but then a soft, melodic voice spoke.

“You can sit here, beauty.”

I looked up. Black hair, elegantly styled, subtle but sophisticated makeup, sparkling jewelry. She radiated confidence, wealth, and poise—just like me.

Without hesitation, I walked over and sat down. We exchanged smiles.

“I’m Margherita,” she said, extending her hand.

“Marina,” I replied, taking her hand gently.

“It’s nice to meet you, beauty.”

“Same here,” I said, settling in.

I placed my Birkin on my lap, my laptop beside me, and took a deep breath. Harvard was intimidating, vast, demanding—but I was ready. I was Marina. Confident. Powerful. Untouchable.

As the lecture began, I reminded myself: I didn’t need anyone. I only needed me.

But for the first time, sitting beside someone who seemed my equal, I wondered… maybe this year wouldn’t be as lonely as I thought.