"Am I a princess?" The maid blinked. "..." Beatrice waited. The silence in the bedroom stretched on, growing heavier and more awkward by the second. Frowning at the lack of response, Beatrice lowered her expectations slightly and tried again. "Then... am I a duke's daughter?" The maid's eyes widened until they were literally the size of dinner saucers. Her lips trembled, but no words came out. Beatrice's newfound confidence took an immediate, sharp nosedive into the floor. 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘶𝘬𝘦? 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦… She leaned forward, her voice dropping an octave as she guessed lower down the nobility ladder. "A count's daughter, then?" The maid's expression rapidly shifted from total bewilderment to unadulterated, utter horror. She pressed a trembling hand against her own mouth, staring at Beatrice as if the child had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Or..." Beatrice hesitated, her squeaky voice shrinking even further as panic began to settle in her stomach. "A baron's daughter? A simple knight's family? A rich merchant...?" The maid's mouth fell wide open, completely lost for words. For a long, suffocating moment, the two of them just stared at each other in dead silence. Beatrice's eye twitched as she waited for an answer—any answer that would give her a hint as to what kind of story she was trapped in. Then, without warning, the maid snapped."GET THE OTHERS!" the maid shrieked at the top of her lungs, bolting out of her chair so violently it knocked over the small tea table. A terrible, agonizing realization began to bloom in the back of her head. If she wasn't a princess... If she wasn't a duke's daughter... If she wasn't even a count's or a baron's daughter...Beatrice's black eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated terror as she gripped her blankets tight. 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘕 𝘞𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘓𝘓 𝘈𝘔 𝘐?! 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘞𝘏𝘖 𝘈𝘔 𝘐 𝘚𝘜𝘗𝘗𝘖𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘛𝘖 𝘉𝘌?! After dying from exhaustion at twenty-one, Rea Smith unexpectedly awakens as five-year-old Beatrice Marshall, the beloved daughter of a powerful Mafia family. With no idea how she ended up in this strange new life, Beatrice quickly decides to stop worrying and start enjoying it instead. She's rich, pampered, surrounded by luxury, and has a loving family—what more could she ask for? Perhaps a handsome future husband, too. For once, life seems wonderfully easy. But just when Beatrice begins getting excited about the luxurious life awaiting her, she finds herself caught in the middle of a Mafia conflict... with a gun pointed straight at her head.