Purchased By The Mafia Boss

Chapter 6: New life

ISABELLA'S POV

I followed the others through the massive hallways, my legs moving on their own. My mind was far from here—still trapped in the memory of my father turning away, my stepmother’s satisfied smirk, and the sound of the auctioneer’s voice sealing my fate.

The new maids were being led by the mansion’s butler, a stern-looking man who didn’t spare us more than a glance. We walked in silence. The only sounds echoing through the corridor were the soft footsteps against the tiled floor and the occasional creak of an old door.

Eventually, we stopped in front of a large building connected to the mansion.

The butler turned to address us. “These are the servants’ quarters.”

His voice was flat and emotionless. “Each of you will be paired with another maid. Some of you will share rooms with senior staffs and others with new arrivals. The rooms are small but comfortable. Get some rest. Work begins tomorrow.”

The heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing a long corridor lined with plain but neat doors on either side. The scent of soap and old wood filled the air. Everything was clean and quiet, almost too quiet—as if the walls themselves held their breath.

One by one, we were assigned rooms. I watched as the other girls disappeared behind doors, some silent with fear, others whispering nervously to their new roommates.

When it was finally my turn, the butler pointed toward the last door on the right.

“You,” he said with a short nod. “Room 14.”

I stepped forward, the weight of the day pressing heavier with every step I took. The door creaked slightly as I pushed it open. Inside was a small space with two single beds, one by the window and another closer to the wall and a wooden wardrobe. The bed near the window was already made, the blanket folded neatly. A sign that someone was already here.

But the room was empty now.

I stepped inside quietly and lowered myself onto the untouched bed, unsure whether to feel relief or anxiety. The silence gave me a moment to breathe, but it also left me alone with my thoughts.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the thin blanket. Everything felt surreal. Just this morning, I had woken up in my own house, made tea, and cooked breakfast. And now… now I was a maid in the house of a Mafia King, sold like an object, traded for a debt that wasn’t mine.

A lump caught in my throat, but I forced it down. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not tonight. Not where someone might walk in and see me weak.

My fingers stilled on the blanket as the memory came rushing back—uninvited but sharp.

It was during the coronation. I’d stood alone at a quiet corner, away from the noise and the strange faces, my head bowed. My heart had felt uneasy, like it already knew something was wrong.

Then I heard footsteps. Slow, familiar ones.

When I looked up, it was him—my father.

His eyes held a softness I hadn’t seen in a while, like he was memorizing my face. Like he wanted to hold on to it.

“Bella…” he said gently, placing his palm against my cheek. His hand trembled slightly, but his touch was careful, almost reverent. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “W-Whatever happens today… I want you to know that… Dad loves you.”

I blinked at him, confused. “But Dad, wha—”

“I didn’t want this,” he whispered, cutting me off, eyes glossy but stubbornly refusing to shed a tear. “I didn’t see another way, Bella.”

His voice cracked slightly, but he straightened up, trying to wear the strength he no longer felt. “This is for the family. Always remember that.”

And then he turned and walked away… before I could say another word.

Just then, the door creaked bringing me back to reality.

I turned quickly, expecting another girl. But the doorway remained empty.

I glanced at the window. The sun had nearly set, casting soft amber light through the glass. Shadows danced on the floor, and for a moment, they looked like fleeting memories—of a life that no longer belonged to me.

Tomorrow, work would begin. Whatever that meant in this new, unfamiliar world.

But tonight… I would sleep if sleep would come.

* *

* *

* *

The morning came too quickly.

I had barely slept. The mattress was stiff, the blanket thin, and my mind far too restless to find peace. My body ached from lying in the same position for hours, afraid to move, afraid to make a sound.

A soft knock startled me.

Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and a girl stepped in, dressed in the same plain uniform I now wore—a pale beige dress with a white collar and apron. She looked no older than me, with sleepy eyes, and her hair braided tightly down her back.

“Oh,” she said, surprised to find me awake. “You’re the new one, huh?”

I nodded slowly.

She gave a short smile, not unkind, and stepped inside. “I’m Mira. We’re roommates now, I guess. Sorry I wasn’t here last night—I was helping in the kitchen until late.”

I stood up from the bed, smoothing the dress I’d been given. “Isabella,” I said quietly.

“Nice to meet you,” she replied, moving to her bed and fixing the blanket quickly. “You’ll want to hurry. First days are... tricky. We’re expected to report to the back courtyard by six sharp. If you’re late, you’ll regret it.”

Her words weren’t threatening. Just... honest. She seemed like a senior staff.

I followed her as we joined a stream of other girls in the hallway, all dressed the same, all wearing the same expression: exhausted and alert.

The corridors were different in the morning light—still quiet but alive now with footsteps and whispers. We moved like shadows, guided through the mansion by routines we hadn’t yet memorized.

When we reached the back courtyard, a tall man in a black suit—clearly a higher-ranking servant—stood waiting, arms folded behind his back, eyes like ice.

That was the butler. He seems

“Line up!” he barked.

We did.

“Listen carefully,” he began. “I’m not in the habit of repeating myself, and I certainly won’t waste time correcting your incompetence later.”

His eyes scanned our group. “You are now servants of the Castellano family. That name alone should remind you of who you’re dealing with. This mansion has rules, and they are not to be broken under any circumstance.”

He pointed to the wings of the estate as he spoke. “Each member of the Castellano family resides in what we call the Imperial Chambers. You are not to enter those rooms unless summoned.

You do not speak unless spoken to. If you’re lucky, they won’t notice you. That’s your safest bet.”

He paused before continuing, his tone tightening. “At the very top of this mansion lies The Sovereign Wing. It spans the two highest floors. That is the Godfather’s private territory—Damien Castellano’s domain. His bedroom, his office, his conference hall, his gym, his study, even his own kitchen.

“Under no circumstances are you to step foot in the Sovereign Wing without being summoned. Don Damien values his privacy, and only a few individuals are ever allowed near that part of the mansion. You may be called upon to clean certain areas, but never without permission.”

If I ever find out one of you stepped foot in that wing without permission—” he let the threat hang in the air, eyes narrowing. “Well, you won’t be seen again. Let’s leave it at that.”

A few maids exchanged nervous glances. While the old maids seem unbothered, they showed no sign of fear, including Mira. What am I even thinking? They have been working here for some time, so they must have become used to everything here.

"Hmmm," I inhaled deeply to calm myself down. I don't ever think I would ever get used to this place.

“Clean thoroughly. " The man's voice tore through my thoughts. "Work quietly. Report problems to your supervisors, the butler or to me.”

“Now, for your duties. The roster changes every month. What I assign to you today will be your responsibility until the end of the month, after which new roles will be rotated.”

If you have questions, ask your supervisors. Work begins promptly. Do your best, and you’ll be treated fairly.”

His eyes scanned the line briefly. “Since I don’t know your names yet, I’ll assign you by pointing. Step forward when I do.”

He began moving down the line, pairing two girls at a time and giving them instructions in clipped words.

“You two — laundry hall.”

“You and you — kitchen duty.”

He continued like that, slowly working his way down the row. I kept my head slightly bowed, trying not to draw attention.

When he reached me, his gloved hand lifted and pointed. “You.”

I stiffened.

Then he pointed to the girl beside me—Mira.

“You two—main gallery halls and Grand Staircase.”

I stepped forward, glancing sideways at Mira. She didn’t seem surprised. Her face remained composed, almost indifferent.

Once the he moved on, Mira leaned closer, her voice low. “Looks like we’re in the heart of the mansion.”

“The heart?” I asked, puzzled.

She offered a faint smile.

We turned and followed the other maids, each heading to their new assignments.