The Mafia's Reluctant Star

Chapter 2: Flashback-The Family’s Betrayal

Some days back

It was yet another blissful, careless morning.

Valentina stretched herself in all directions, the soft sunlight spilling through the curtains and painting her room in warm gold. She yawned, blinking against the brightness, her curls a wild halo around her head. All around her, the floor was a chaos of scripts and papers — her kind of beautiful mess.

She picked one up, smiling at the name scribbled in bold letters at the corner — Alessio Armani.

“Ah, my superstar,” she murmured, hugging the paper to her chest. Alessio had always been that boy — the one who got scouted early, the one who became everything she dreamed to be. Her best friend. Her inspiration. And maybe, just maybe, the boy who made her heart race a little too fast.

Jumping off the bed with a little twirl, she hummed a tune that had been stuck in her head all week. She grabbed her old standing lamp, pretending it was her co-star.

“Yes, my prince!” she declared dramatically, tilting her head back. “I have searched high and low for someone who could make my heart skip — someone like you!”

Her pretend performance was cut short by a knock on the door.

“My lady,” Gloria’s voice came softly through.

Valentina opened the door to see the older woman bow slightly.

“Good morning, Mama Gloria,” she greeted brightly.

But Gloria didn’t smile like she usually did. Her eyes looked tired, and her tone was quick, uneasy. “Your father requests your presence in the study,” she said, then turned and walked away before Valentina could ask anything.

Watching her go, Valentina felt a strange pinch in her chest. Gloria had taken care of her since she was little — the kind of woman who used to hum while she worked and sneak her pastries from the kitchen. Lately, though, there was no humming. No laughter. Just silence.

And it wasn’t just Gloria. The entire house had changed. The halls felt emptier, quieter. Most of the servants were gone — dismissed one after another without warning. Her father said nothing about it, but Valentina knew. The Morettis were struggling. Badly.

Still, nobody told her anything. They always kept her in the dark maybe to protect her, but it only made her worry more.

Throwing on a pale yellow dress, she made her way down the grand staircase, the marble cold under her bare feet. Halfway down, she nearly bumped into her older sister, Maria.

“Good morning, Maria,” she said politely, bowing slightly out of habit.

Maria, poised as always, gave only a brief nod. Her golden hair was perfectly tied back, not a strand out of place. Even now, she looked like a queen in training — graceful, untouchable.

Valentina quickened her pace to walk beside her. “Did Father call you too?”

“Yes.”

Just that. One word. Typical Maria.

Valentina sighed, trying again. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“We’ll see.”

And that was all she said before entering the study, leaving Valentina outside the heavy doors for a heartbeat.

She took a deep breath. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. She could almost hear her heart thudding as she stepped in after her sister.

Her parents were already seated — her father behind his desk, his face drawn and pale, her mother beside him, holding his hand tightly. The air was heavy, and Valentina suddenly knew this wasn’t going to be one of their usual family talks.

Something was about to change.

And deep down, she could already feel it.