Mafia Enslaved

1

"Raf, your meal." I handed the Tupperware wrapped in a plastic bag to my younger brother as I dropped him off at his school.

"Okay, sis. Thank you," he smiled. I ruffled his hair and smiled back at him, watching him run inside the school gate to meet his friends.

My brother is 10 years old, and I'm doing my best to send him to one of the best schools in the Philippines. Even though the tuition fee is almost reaching one million for a school year, I'm working hard to save up for it. He deserves the best, even if it's something I can never have.

I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head and started walking towards my own school. Our apartment is a 20-minute walk away from the school, and since I had to drop my brother off, it would probably take me around 30 minutes.

My phone vibrated, and I saw "Kuya Spencer calling..." on the screen. I quickly encrypted my phone; I knew he was tracking us, and I didn't want them to know my whereabouts. My grandfather is angry at me because he doesn't want to accept my brother Rafael. He claims that Rafael comes from a family he despises. Despite that, he adopted all of us orphans - me, Spencer, Marshan, and Paeng - even though we're not related.

"Hey..." I answered.

"The f*ck, Maureen! Where are you?! And will you stop encrypting your phone!" Spencer shouted. I just grinned.

"I'm still going to work for the Mafia. You can't take Rafael away from me."

"Mau, come home. I'll provide you with shelter, food, and everything!"

"I can do that for us. I'm an underground fighter and a car racer. Maybe you forgot."

"F*ck! I told you to stop fighting and racing! Where the hell exactly are you?! We've searched for almost entire Europe!"

"You can never find me. Not until Grandpa accepts Rafael," I sighed and ended the call.

I'm 18, an underground fighter, a car racer, and a mafia assassin. We left Europe a month ago and ended up in the Philippines. Life here is f*cking great. I know they can't imagine me living in a third world country. Me, the granddaughter of a mafia lord? That's why I know we are safe here.

People I pass by at school quickly avoid me. They say I have this very dark aura that makes me look like I'll kill someone just by looking at them. But I just shrugged it off; I don't care what they say.

After class, I went to the library to return the book I borrowed the other day. I've been here for a month now, and I've read almost an entire shelf of books.

"So, how did you find this novel?" the librarian asked with a smile. She's the most terrifying librarian I've ever known, which is why there are only a few people in the library. But if you're in love with books like her, then you're cool.

"The plot was great, but the ending was a bit cliché. The protagonist's revenge was also confusing, but overall, it's heartbreaking," I said while filling out a form.

"Really? How about you try this one? The Seven Deadly Sins by Bean Patterson." I looked at the thick hardbound book.

"The story of 7 different men and how they survived their psychological diseases?"

"Wow! How did you know? This was released just a few days ago!"

"I have a copy," I lied. The truth is, Bean is a friend of mine from Europe, and I was his model for that book, The Seven Deadly Sins.

"Okay, I'll go ahead. I have a class to catch up on," I said, fixing my stuff.

I put my bag on my shoulder and left the library, putting my hood back over my head.

"Guys, we're having a long quiz today!" the teacher announced.

"You didn't say anything about it!" someone complained.

"I don't always announce all the quizzes; you need to always be prepared!" the teacher replied. The quiz was as easy as 123. When was the last time I struggled with something like this?

Everything is easy for me. I got another perfect score.

"Good job, Ms. Maude," the teacher smiled at me. I just nodded. I hate flattery. I know I'm good, and there's no need to keep repeating it. I am Maureen Marfori, but just hearing my surname feels like uttering a curse. It's dangerous. So I need to change it to Maude.

I headed to the restroom after class.

"As usual, the scholar got a perfect score again. What do you expect from a poor girl? Always studying, no social life. How boring."

I was about to open the cubicle door when I heard that. I ignored it and proceeded to the sink next to whoever said it.

Of course, they were surprised and moved a bit away from me. I just washed my hands and dried them before leaving the restroom as if nothing happened.

"Hi! Excuse me, I'm Monique. Do you know where Room 12A is?" she asked.

"Room 345," I said. I continued walking, but she followed me.

"Can you help me find it? I'm having trouble with directions," she said. I shrugged and kept walking.

"Come on, please?" she persisted. I didn't answer and just continued on my way to enter the classroom.

"Hey, miss, where's Room 345?" she asked again. I was already seated at my desk.

"Miss, you are already in Room 345. May I know what your business is here?" the teacher asked when she heard the commotion.

"I-I'm a transfer student," she stammered.

"Okay then, you may proceed to introduce yourself in front," the teacher said. I just observed her.

There's nothing extraordinary about her. She looks harmless.

"I'm Monique Allison Beckham, I come from Canada, and uh, I transferred because my friends are studying here," she said, her cheeks turning red.

I smirked silently. I don't know her, and her last name doesn't sound familiar.

"Okay, Miss Beckham, please take your seat."

"T-thank you."

I felt Monique gently pull my jacket when she sat next to me.

"You're irritating," she whispered. I rolled my eyes at her. I'm allergic to people acting close to me.