Apparently, I'm the Mafia's Daughter

Chapter 4: Near (Second) Death Experience

Even while drowning in pure, unadulterated terror, Rea's brain temporarily lost focus for half a second.

Her mouth fell slightly open as the man hauled her down the sprawling corridors.

The estate is... absurd. Double-curved grand staircases, soaring vaulted ceilings lined with gold leaf, crystalline chandeliers the size of compact cars, and pristine marble floors. It didn't look like a house. It looked like the royal palace of a major European empire.

𝘞𝘩𝘰𝘢, she thought, her tears momentarily pausing.

Even as her life flashed before her eyes, she couldn't help staring in sheer awe. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦?! 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱... 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩! 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩!

Her eyes sparkled with greedy awe for approximately two seconds—until the gunman abruptly glanced down at her, his single visible eye narrowing in cold annoyance.

Beatrice instantly snapped her head away, staring fixedly at the floor.

𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴! she warned herself, swallowing hard. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳! 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯!

The man dragged her down the central staircase, Beatrice's tiny legs stumbling over every single step. By the time they reached the main foyer, silent tears were streaming freely down her face.

She fully expected to see an entire mercenary army waiting to back him up. But as they hit the main doors, she realized...

There was no army. The man had infiltrated this entire guarded estate completely alone.

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘣 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦. She squeezed her eyes shut in terror. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢-𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺'𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦-𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘥! 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨!

Suddenly, the roar of heavy engines shattered the quiet courtyard outside.

Several sleek, armored black sedans screeched into the driveway, spinning out onto the gravel. Doors flew open simultaneously, and dozens of heavily armed men in sharp suits poured out, raising high-caliber assault rifles.

And, naturally, a terrifying number of those rifle barrels were pointed directly at the man and of course Beatrice.

Beatrice's face crumpled into deep offense. 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘌, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘴! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦!

A stern-looking, middle-aged man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped out from behind the armed men. He appeared to be the captain of the security detail. His face was set in grim stone, though a flicker of genuine shock crossed his features when his eyes landed on Beatrice hanging from the kidnapper's hand.

"Put the girl down," the leader commanded, his voice echoing off the courtyard walls.

Around him, the tactical team tightened their aim.

"Put her down 𝘯𝘰𝘸," the captain repeated. "Or we shoot."

The kidnapper didn't even flinch. Instead, he slowly brought his free hand up, raising his heavy steel handgun and pressing the freezing-cold steel barrel directly against the side of Beatrice's forehead.

Beatrice went instantly, completely rigid.

𝘖𝘩. 𝘖𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘥, her brain shrieked. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠 𝘣𝘢𝘥.

Her heart hammered against her ribs like a jackhammer. She could hear it roaring in her ears, practically feeling the violent pulsing in her throat.

The kidnapper's grip tightened on her collar as he spoke, his tone disturbingly nonchalant. "Give me the blueprint for your family's newest military weapon, or the kid gets a new earhole."

Dead silence blanketed the courtyard.

The security captain's expression hardened into iron.

Beatrice's mind raced at a million miles per hour. 𝘈 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵?! 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳?! 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳?!

Fresh tears flooded her eyes. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦!

She glanced desperately toward a sleek black limousine parked near the front. The rear door had opened, and a tall, imposing man stepped out—a man whose sharp black eyes and jet-black hair mirrored her own reflection in the mirror. 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳?

His face was a storm of conflicting emotions. He stared at Beatrice, then at the g*n pressed into her skull, then back to her face.

For one brief, shining moment, a spark of hope flared in Beatrice's tiny chest.

𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢...! she cheered internally, practically begging with her eyes. 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯! 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴! 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵! 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴! 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘺-𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴!

Her father took a step forward, looking as though he were about to issue the order to yield—

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

A firm hand tapped against her father's shoulder, halting him in his tracks.

A sharp-looking man in his early forties stepped out from the limousine's passenger side, holding a sleek custom pistol. He carried an air of absolute authority—the kind of man who commanded an entire room without uttering a word. To Beatrice, he looked like a high-ranking corporate executive or an elite business partner.

Without a single second of hesitation, the man declared in a flat, icy voice:

"Just let her die."

Beatrice's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"The financial value of one child," the man added smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks, "does not compare to the market dominance of our newest weapon prototype."

Beatrice's heart literally shattered into a thousand pieces.

𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛?! 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘊𝘖𝘓𝘋-𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘋𝘌𝘋 𝘑𝘌𝘙𝘒! 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘐𝘖𝘜𝘚 𝘙𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛 𝘕𝘖𝘞?!

Her lips trembled violently, her entire face scrunching up as she prepared to scream in pure indignation. But before she could open her mouth, someone else cried out first.

"NO!"

A woman's desperate, heart-wrenching scream echoed across the courtyard.

Beatrice whipped her head toward the sound. A drop-dead gorgeous woman with midnight-black hair had collapsed to her knees beside the car, her face pale with pure horror. "No... not my Beatrice! Please, Mama's here!"

𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢...!

The woman was instantly restrained by two frantic bodyguards, but she continued sobbing hysterically. "Save my baby! Save Beatrice!"

Right behind her stood a young boy—maybe eight or nine years old. His dark eyes were swollen red, tears streaming down his bruised-looking cheeks as he stared at Beatrice in absolute terror.

𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳?

Beatrice stared at the tragic scene. They had brought Beatrice's entire family out here. Her Mama, her brother, her Papa, and this terrifying executive guy. And yet... that cold-hearted business man was casually choosing a piece of paper over her life, and her father was hesitating!

𝘞𝘰𝘸. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵, she thought bitterly, a hysterical laugh bubbling up her throat. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥-𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺?!

Then—

𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗚!

An explosive gunshot went off literally two inches from her left ear.

"AAAAAAAH!"

Beatrice shrieked, her legs giving out completely. She dropped like a stone, hitting the hard gravel driveway face-first. Pain shot through her tiny knees and elbows, skin scraping against the sharp stones, but she didn't care.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling her arms over her head.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, she whimpered to herself. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳!

She waited for the darkness to take her. She waited for the pain of a bullet wound.

Five seconds passed. Nothing happened.

Slowly... agonizingly slowly... Beatrice cracked one eye open.

The kidnapper was lying on the gravel right beside her. He wasn't moving. His single pale eye was wide open, staring blankly at the sky as a pool of crimson spread rapidly beneath his head. A single, perfectly placed bullet hole pierced the center of his forehead.

Beatrice stared at the corpse. Her brain completely short-circuited.

She turned her head slightly toward the cars. The sharply dressed forty-something man was slowly lowering his pistol, his expression entirely unbothered as smoke curled from the muzzle. He had shot the kidnapper himself, right past her ear, without a single shred of hesitation.

Beatrice couldn't tell if the bullet had nearly blown her own head off or if the man was just an insanely good marksman. She didn't care. She didn't want to know.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

She burst into full-blown, ugly, hysterical toddler tears.

"Beatrice!"

A pair of strong, frantic arms swept down, snatching her off the b****y gravel. She was yanked violently against a broad, warm chest that smelled of expensive woodsmoke and cologne. Her Papa held her so tightly she could barely breathe.

"I'm sorry," his voice trembled, losing all of its previous cold authority. "I'm so sorry, Beatrice..."

Beatrice couldn't even process the words anymore. The deafening noise of her Mama's crying, the bodyguards shouting orders, the sirens in the distance, the heavy footsteps—everything blurred together into a terrifying, chaotic hum.

She simply buried her face into her Papa's expensive suit jacket and sobbed until her throat burned. Her small body shook violently in his grip.

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴! She cried internally. 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱! 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦! 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦?!

Her Papa's arms tightened around her trembling frame. "I've got you. Mama and Papa are here. I'm sorry, my baby..."

Beatrice couldn't respond. Her vision began to swim once more, her eyelids growing impossibly heavy as the adrenaline drained out of her system.

She was exhausted. And frankly, who could blame her?

In the span of a single afternoon, she had died of overwork, woken up in a child's body, panicked, fainted, woken up again, gotten interrogated by a terrified doctor, survived a violent mansion m******e, gotten kidn*pped by a lunatic, had a g*n pressed to her head, almost got traded for a military weapon blueprint, and watched a man get sniped right beside her face!

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘚𝘜𝘊𝘒𝘚! She screamed in her head. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘮 𝘐?! 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤?! 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘣𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘎𝘜𝘕𝘚?!

Her eyes slowly fluttered shut. The warmth of her Papa's arms faded into the background, the frantic shouting dissolved into white noise, and once again—

Complete, merciful darkness swallowed her whole.

*⁠.⁠✧.*