The Scholar and the Mafia Princess

The Doll Named Lyra

I spent the whole night tending to my wounds, carefully covering every bruise with ointment until my face looked almost normal.

…

The next morning, I took my transcript and headed to the psychiatric hospital.

My mom had been living there for ten years. When I was in first grade, my dad beat her so badly in a drunken rage that her mind broke. Now, she only recognized me.

After Mom's breakdown left the family without her support, my dad forced me into a program designed to train boys to marry the pampered heiress in Crownridge, Aveline.

"Mom, I'm here. I know I disappointed you by not being number one, but I really had no choice…"

She sat on the bed clutching a rag doll to her chest. That doll was Aveline's gift to me when I was in sixth grade.

Mom rocked it gently and mumbled with a dreamy smile, "Lyra, look who's here. Say hi to Miles."

Lyra Arden was my unborn little sister. Ten years ago, my father's fists didn't just destroy my mother's mind. They killed the baby she was carrying.

That was when everything shattered.

Thinking about how powerless we were, how our lives were toyed with by the Sage Group like we were nothing but weeds underfoot, I felt tears sting my eyes.

Then, a loud, mocking voice broke the quiet. "Well, aren't you Miles? What are you doing here? Got yourself a room at the psych ward?"

Caspian's tone dripped with fake surprise. "Huh! You actually took the exam despite everything! Really motivational. Nearly got the same score as me."

They were both wearing volunteer vests, probably here for some charity project that would earn them extra credit for college applications.

Aveline wrinkled her nose at me and said to him, loud enough for the whole ward to hear, "Don't be afraid, Caspian. I'm here. He's not the crazy one; his mother is. She's been out of her mind for ten years."

Their mocking voices cut through the air like glass. My mom flinched. Then, as if trying to protect her doll, she lifted her shirt to breastfeed it. "Don't be scared, Lyra. I'm here."

I lunged forward, snatching the doll from her and covering her up with trembling hands. My eyes were wet, but I forced myself to stay calm.

Aveline curled her lip. "What a family of lunatics."

Her gaze landed on the doll I was holding. She pinched her nose in disgust. "Miles, this thing looks like it's from the last century. Why are you still keeping it? God, you're pathetic. It's disgusting."

Disgusting? That same doll used to be her favorite.

Unlike the other candidates, I was the only one actually born in Crownridge. During summers, I got to be Aveline's study partner and her playmate.

Once, when we were kids, she handed me this doll and said, giggling, "Miles, this is the baby I'm giving you."

The adults laughed, but I held that doll like a treasure.

Now, to keep my mother from spiraling again, I clutched it tight and said softly, "I'm sorry, Ms. Sage. My mother's behavior upset Caspian. She's not well. Please forgive us."

Before I could say more, my mother's voice rose behind me, sharp and trembling. "Miles! Who's hurting you? I'll beat them up!"

Caspian clutched his chest dramatically and crouched to the floor. "Miles, what are you doing?" He gasped weakly. "Just because I scored three points higher than you, you're having your crazy mother attack me?" His voice cracked as if he were about to cry.

Aveline's heart ached for him. She hugged Caspian tight and soothed him endlessly. "Caspian, are you okay? Don't worry. I'll deal with this crazy family for you!"

Once he caught his breath, she stood up and slapped me twice across the face hard, one on each cheek.

Aveline warned, "Keep that deranged mother of yours under control. If she ever hurts Caspian again, I'll make you both wish you'd never been born."

My mother screamed back, "I won't die, but you will!"

Aveline, trembling with anger, jerked the doll free and said flatly, "Mrs. Arden, that's not Lyra. It's an old, tattered toy from when I was small. Lyra is gone; she was lost when you were pregnant. Quit living in denial."

Then, as if words weren't cruel enough, she pulled her car key from her purse and stabbed the doll, ripping it open until the fabric split. My mother's screams filled the room as Aveline tore it into shreds.

"She's dead! Do you hear me? Dead!"

My mother stared at the pile of fabric scraps, her face blank, then collapsed to the floor, sobbing so violently her body shook. She tried to piece the torn cloth together with trembling fingers, whispering, "My Lyra… Oh, my Lyra…"

I held her tightly, afraid she'd hurt herself, my heart pounding with anger, sorrow, and helplessness all at once.

When I finally looked up, my eyes locked on Aveline's. My voice was cold and steady. "Aveline, you won't have to worry about seeing me again. I'm leaving the country soon."