Abandoned to the Mafia, I Rose as the Don’s Most Trusted Lawyer Chapter 01
The day my parents fled their debts with my younger
sister, they left me behind for the men who had come to collect.
“There’s something wrong with this kid. She’s not right in the head. All she does is clutch those books and
ramble about things no one understands. Keep her if you want. If you don’t, do whatever you like with her.
Sell her for all I care.”
My little sister’s clear, childish voice drifted down the apartment hallway.
“Mom, isn’t Erin coming with us?”
“No. She’s a book–obsessed idiot. She’s not part of our family.”
I had heard those words more times than I could count.
After Claire was born, my parents gave her nearly all
their time and attention.
Once, I only wanted to step closer to the crib and look
at her, but Mom shoved me away so hard that I nearly fell.
“Don’t touch your sister. Your hands are filthy.”
From then on, I became the child the Carter familywanted least.
When the apartment door was kicked open, I was crouched in a corner of the living room, reading a
battered criminal law textbook.
The man in front had tattoos covering both arms. He stopped before me and stared down at me.
“Kid, your parents ran. How are you planning to pay what they owe?”
I closed the book and tried to keep my voice from shaking.
“Sir, I listened to the recordings from your last few
attempts to collect the debt. At least twelve things you
said could have been worded differently so they
wouldn’t qualify as criminal threats. If you follow the plan I put together, I can keep you out of a great deal of
trouble.”
The living room went silent.
I pulled several crumpled sheets of paper from between the pages. I had listed every legal problem
they had run into over the past three years and written
a possible solution beside each one.
After reading them, the tattooed man swore under his breath.
“Jesus Christ. I’ve been collecting debts for twenty–six
years, and I’m only finding out now that we could’ve done the whole thing through legal channels?”
The bald man beside him immediately smacked the
back of his head.
“How many times have I told you not to swear in front of children?”
The tattooed man’s name was Marcus Black.
He crouched in front of me until we were eye to eye.
I could see the old scar on his chin and my own thin,
undersized reflection in his eyes.
“Who taught you all this?”
I shook my head and forced the fear out of my voice
before answering slowly and clearly.
“I taught myself.”
His gaze moved from my face to my painfully thin arms.
“Do your parents hit you?”
I shook my head again.
They didn’t hit me.
They simply never treated me as part of the family.
There was often no plate for me at the dinner table, no
place for me in family photographs, and no one to care
for me when I got sick.
Once, my fever climbed so high that I nearly lost
consciousness. I lay in bed too weak to get myself a glass of water.
Mom stood in the doorway and gave me a single glance.
“Stop pretending. You’re only doing this to get out of your chores.”
Then she took Claire to the mall to buy new dresses.
I stayed in bed for three days and survived on cold
water from the bathroom faucet.
When Marcus came to collect the debt, I had been
sitting in the corner with a family law textbook I had
found beside a dumpster.
Part of the cover was missing, so I had carefully
repaired it with clear tape.
I had read it so many times that I could recite almost
all of it from memory.
Not far away, my parents and Claire were packing their bags.
For as long as I could remember, my parents had
fought, smashed things, and then disappeared with Claire.
Before leaving, they always said the same thing.
“Erin isn’t as lovable as Claire. Taking her with us
would only cause trouble.”
So I was always the one they left behind.
Whenever they returned after hiding from their
creditors, they would look at me and sigh.
Only later did I understand that those sighs had
nothing to do with guilt.
They were disappointed that I was still alive, because it
meant they still had to spend the bare minimum to
keep me that way.
I raised my head and looked at Marcus.
His stare was frightening, but the way my father
looked at me frightened me even more.
Whenever Dad lost money gambling, he glared at me
with disgust, as though my existence itself were
another debt he had been forced to carry.
“My parents have been in debt for years. The apartment is full of collection letters and court notices. I had nothing else to do, so I read them.”
Most days, I ate one slice of moldy bread and spent the rest of my time reading books I had pulled from the
trash.
I paused.
“I learned to read when I was three.”
I wasn’t showing off.
My parents had handed me over to these men.
If I couldn’t prove I was useful, they might actually sell
me to someone else.
“How old are you?”
“Twelve.”
Marcus stared at me, suspicion still visible in his eyes.
The motion–sensor light in the hallway went dark,
then flickered back on.
He stood and waved to the men behind him.
“George, bring every debt agreement, transfer record, and case file we have. Let the little lawyer take a look.”
I lost track of time. I had been crouching so long that both legs had gone numb.
At last, George returned carrying a heavy cardboard box.
It hit the floor with a dull thud.
Inside were debt agreements, collection records, settlement documents, and payment receipts, all thrown together without any order.
Marcus patted the lid and lifted his chin at me.
“All right, little lawyer. Show me what you can find.”