Mafia Princess

Chapter 1: The truth

Jane's POV

I meant it to sound light. Like a joke. Like, "ha ha, Ma, bakit ako lang ‘yung naka-encode wrong sa pamilya?"

It didn’t come out light. It came out hungry.

Nanay’s knife paused mid-air.

For a long time, only the rain spoke. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ On the roof. On the mango tree outside. On the empty pot by the door that we used to catch drips.

Then Nanay set the knife down. Slow. She wiped her hands on her apron. It was the blue one with the mango stain that never came out. She looked at me with eyes that were already apologizing.

“Anak,” she said, voice low. “You’ve always been ours in every way that matters. But… you’re right. You didn’t come from me.”

The world tilted. Not like in cartoons where everything spins. It tilted like a picture frame that’s about to fall off the wall.

I gripped the edge of the table. The wood was sticky from something Ben spilled this morning. “What?”

Nanay sat down. She didn’t ask me to sit. She didn’t touch me. Her hands stayed on her lap, twisting the apron.

“Fifteen years ago, a man came here,” she said. “Night time. Umaga na, mga 2am. Your Tatay was still at the night shift sa factory. It was just me and Mark. Mark was three.”

She swallowed. “The man was desperate. Scared. He had a baby. You. You were maybe two weeks old, wrapped in a blanket na mahal. Hindi galing sa palengke. He begged us to keep you safe. He said people were after him. After you.”

Nanay’s hands trembled. “He gave Tatay money. A lot. Tatay wanted to say no. Sabi niya, ‘Hindi namin trabaho ‘yan.’ But the man… he cried, Jane. Grown man, umiiyak sa sahig namin. Sabi niya, ‘If you don’t take her, she dies. If I keep her, she dies. Please.’”

I couldn’t feel my legs. “So you said yes.”

“We said yes,” Nanay whispered. “We never regretted it. Not one day. Not one second. You were sick at first. Lagnat. I didn’t sleep for a week. Your Tatay named you. Jane. Kasi sabi niya, ‘Simple name para sa simpleng buhay.’”

She tried to smile. It broke halfway.

“Who was he?” My throat felt tight. Like someone had their hand around it. “Who am I?”

Nanay closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were wet. “Your name is Jane Wilson. Your father is Sandro Wilson.”

The name meant nothing to me. Wilson. Like the tennis balls? Like in English books?

But Nanay said it like it was a storm warning. Like _bagyo signal number 4_.

“Wilson?” I repeated. Stupid. Like saying it again would make it make sense.

Nanay nodded. “He said if anyone ever came for you, we should say that name. Sandro Wilson. And they’d know we were telling the truth.”

“Did he say why?” I asked. “Why people were after me? After him?”

“He said, ‘My world is not for babies.’” Nanay’s voice cracked. “That’s all. Then he left. Never came back. We waited. One year. Two years. Five. Then we stopped waiting and just… loved you.”

I wanted to ask more. I wanted to ask everything. But the front door opened and Ben ran in, soaking wet, holding a plastic bag of ice candy.

“Ate! Si Paolo binugbog ako sa Agawan Base!” he announced. Then he saw Nanay’s face. Saw me standing there like I’d been hit by a truck. “Uy. Bakit kayo parang umiiyak?”

“Wala,” Nanay said fast. Too fast. She stood up and forced a smile. “Magpalit ka na. Magkakasakit ka.”

Ben looked between us, confused, then ran to the back.

Nanay touched my arm. Her hand was warm. Familiar. “Jane, anak, we can talk later. When your Tatay is home. Okay?”

I nodded because I couldn’t speak.

I went to my room. My room that I shared with Liza. Her side was posters of K-pop groups and dried corsages from JS Prom. My side was books. Hand-me-downs from Mark. A small mirror that was cracked in the corner.

I looked in the mirror. Jane Wilson. I said it in my head. It didn’t fit.

Jane Lopez. That fit. That had fifteen years behind it.

Who was Jane Wilson?