Apparently, I'm the Mafia's Daughter

Chapter 3: Raid?

The grand bedroom quickly filled with an absurd number of people. Maid after maid filed in, followed closely by an elderly gentleman carrying a leather medical bag.

Beatrice sat in the middle of the monstrously oversized bed in complete, silent resignation. She simply let the doctor flash a warm light into her eyes, check her pulse, listen to her chest through a stethoscope, and gently tap her knees to test her reflexes.

She offered zero resistance. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, she reasoned with herself. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦. She is far too tired to argue with this 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

Still, amidst the parade of medical checkups, one burning question refused to leave her mind. She subtly glanced around the crowded room, searching the anxious faces.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴?

She had been awake for a good while now. There had been a massive spectacle—maids screaming, frantic running in the halls, shouting for physicians. Yet, neither a distraught mother nor a protective father had burst through those double doors.

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳? she thought, shifting uncomfortably on the soft mattress.

Wasn't this the exact moment in webnovels where the ultra-wealthy, ridiculously doting parents rushed in dramatically because their precious, fragile daughter had suddenly collapsed? Whenever a w******l protagonist sneezed, the father usually canceled the war to fly home as quickly as possible! (This is exaggerating) Whenever a child fainted, the entire household was supposed to be brought to its knees! (This is also exaggerating)

𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴?!

Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Rea who's now accepted her role as Beatrice turned toward the head maid who was nervously fidgeting near the bedpost.

"Where are Mama and Papa?" her squeaky, childish voice piped up.

The maid froze. For a fraction of a second, her anxious expression softened into something almost touched, a gentle smile breaking across her face. "Lady Beatrice... you still remember your mother and father."

She blinked flatly. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰! 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤!

The maid clasped her hands over her apron. "Your Ladyship, Madam and Master are currently occupied in an urgent board meeting."

"A board family meeting?"

"Yes, my lady."

Beatrice's tiny brow furrowed into a deep frown. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘈𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺?

She looked around the vast, empty space on her bed. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦-𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳-𝘰𝘭𝘥? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦. 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴?!

She was quickly discovering that being five years old came with distinct social disadvantages.

Then—

𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗠!

The entire mansion rattled to its core. The high chandelier swung violently overhead, crystals clattering against one another as a deep, reverberating thunder shook the floorboards right beneath the bed.

Beatrice practically jumped a foot in the air.

Every single servant in the room instantly went dead silent, paralyzed in place. A split second later, muffled shouting erupted from somewhere in the distant, lower floors of the estate.

"What was that?!"

"An explosion?!"

"What is happening down there?!"

The room devolved into instant panic. The maids' professional composure shattered as servants began whispering terrified predictions under their breath. One young valet sprinted toward the doors to check the hallway, only to instantly recoil as a second, heavier detonation echoed from the courtyard outside.

"Master isn't here!"

"Master is still at the board family meeting!"

"Oh, Lord above..."

Beatrice sat glued to the mattress, her eyes darting from one frantic face to another. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯?! 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘥?!

She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but before a single word could leave her throat—

The grand bedroom doors swung wide open.

A man stepped into the room.

The frantic screaming died instantly. The air in the room temperature-dropped to sub-zero levels.

The man was clad entirely in black, but his sharp tactical clothes were heavily splattered with fresh, crimson blood. A heavy steel handgun hung loosely in his right hand, smoke faintly curling from its barrel. One of his eyes was covered by a thick leather eyepatch, while the other—a pale, dull green shade—swept coldly across the crowded bedroom.

His lips twitched, curving upward on one side into a crooked, sickening grin that made Beatrice's tiny stomach violently flip.

He surveyed the room full of frozen servants and the little girl sitting on the bed.

"Oh," his voice rasped out, terrifyingly calm. "So this is where you're all hiding."

Beatrice's blood ran completely cold.

Without a moment's hesitation, the man brought his g*n up.

𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗚!

The bedroom erupted into absolute, horrific chaos.

Maids shrieked in absolute terror, throwing themselves toward the corners of the room. The elderly doctor barely had time to register the sound before another ear-splitting shot rang out.

𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗚! 𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗚!

Beatrice's brain completely halted. People were dropping to the floor. The room that had been filled with gentle, worried voices just seconds ago transformed into a silent, b****y nightmare.

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Her small, five-year-old body trembled so hard her teeth literally chattered.

𝘕𝘰. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘯𝘰, 𝘯𝘰, 𝘯𝘰! 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦?! she screamed in her head. 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱! 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘰! 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘎𝘰𝘥! 𝘋𝘰 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘈𝘎𝘈𝘐𝘕?!

The gunman stepped casually over the fallen bodies, his heavy boots crunching against broken glass as he walked straight toward the grand bed.

Beatrice instinctively scrambled backward, her hands clawing blindly at the silk duvet, but her tiny legs were paralyzed with sheer terror. She could only stare at the intruder with wide, horrified eyes.

The man reached down, his leather-gloved hand snagging the back collar of her ruffled nightgown.

Beatrice let out a tiny, choked sound. "U-uh..."

With effortless strength, he yanked her right off the bed like a bag of laundry. "Come here, little brat."

Her feet stumbled uselessly against the hardwood floor as he hauled her along. Tears instantly flooded her vision. She wanted to scream. She wanted her mother. She wanted her father. She wanted her cramped college dorm, her coffee cups, and her stupid graduation thesis! She wanted 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 except this nightmare!

The man leaned down, his cold breath brushing against her tiny ear. "If you want to live a few minutes longer," he growled, "keep your mouth shut and don't make a sound. Just behave."

Then he flashed that horrible, crooked smile once more.

Beatrice instantly clamped both of her tiny hands over her mouth to muffle her hysterical sobs. 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰! 𝘈𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤!

Her entire frame shook uncontrollably as the man dragged her out into the grand hallway by her collar, completely unbothered by her choking.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦-𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳-𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥! she raged internally. 𝘈𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺!

But she didn't dare utter a single word out loud. She could only choke out tiny, pathetic whimpers into her palms as her feet dragged uselessly behind him.

⁠*⁠.⁠✧.*