Mia Figlia

Chapter 50 ✔️

PoV Stella

The corners of my mouth twitched upward in amusement. Isabella sat at the window with her lips parted in the shape of an O, looking out at the tiny houses, cars, and scattered trees that scurried by below us. I snuggled a bit more into the seat, watching the three Italians gesticulating wildly a little farther forward in our private jet with amusement.

"If they are not careful, one of them will slap the other one," grumbled Romano, who was sitting on the opposite side of the wide aisle. Elbow propped on the armrest, chin on his clenched fist, he watched bored as my husband talked to his cousin. While Riccardo wanted to negotiate peacefully with my father, Gianluca was a fan of the 'intimidate' tactic. He was unable to understand why my stepmother had treated me this terribly and my father had never intervened. But how could I explain it? I did not comprehend it myself.

"What a ray of sunshine you are today." Lucius lolling in his seat, grinned mockingly at Romano. "Are you homesick for your sweetie already?" The deep sigh in response made me giggle. My favorite bodyguard was badly in love. I wished him well with all my heart. He had been the first of the whole bunch that I had met and who had made me feel like someone special. He had always stood by me, right from the start. That's why Riccardo had wanted to set us up in the beginning. To make sure that I would not try to run away with my daughter.

I shook my head with a smile. The attempt to set us up would have failed because of me. Even though I did not want to admit it to myself at first, and he had driven me up the wall often enough, there would have been no other man for me than the don of all people in this mafia family. A man who I had assumed was incapable of loving anyone. Someone who spread only fear, terror, and violence. His affectionate treatment of Isabella had proven me wrong and melted my heart. I stroked my belly. I wondered how he would handle our baby.

"Look mom, we are about to land." My girl pointed excitedly out the window. I wrinkled my nose inconspicuously. If I was honest, I had not missed this patch of desert. The vast amounts of water that went on the Strip for pools, water fountains, and plants in this wasteland were beyond sad in my eyes. And yet, here I was again. I sighed softly. It had been my idea, for the family. For what would one day become of my father's empire?

Now that I, with Gianluca's help, had uncovered my stepmother's deceitful goings-on and my father had directly filed for divorce. Too bad for her that she had signed a marriage contract that severely punished adultery. Not a cent would she get from his fortune. I stretched my back and lifted my chin. My stepmother would not be able to hurt me anymore. Never again did I have to fear this heartless beast.

"I wonder if grandfather will be happy to see me." Isabella chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. A tic she got from me.

"But of course, cara. Who could resist our little sunshine?" Romano gave her an assuring smile. With his calm manner, I could very well imagine him as a father. The only question was what his girlfriend thought of it since she had just recently begun to enjoy her freedom. Esmée had experienced terrible things in the captivity of the human trafficking ring. I admired her for her strength. In my case, one rape had been enough to destroy my will to live for a long period of time. Only the escape from my family and later Isabella's birth had saved me from a stupid decision.

The jet touched down gently on the runway. It surprised me how little I had felt of the flight. Smaller planes should be more susceptible to downdrafts and other turbulence than the big airliners. Since it was my first flight despite my wealthy parents' home, I had imagined it worse. However, I considered it quite possible that the Italians had threatened the pilot that he would get in trouble with them in case of turbulence.

A few minutes later we were all sitting in a large limousine. Lucius and Romano in front, the rest of us in the back. Riccardo held Isabella on his lap. The latter tugged at his tie, fiddled with his shirt collar, and smoothed out his suit.

"There, done. Now you can get under grandfather's eyes. You want to make a good impression, don't you?" My husband looked at our daughter in complete bewilderment. With difficulty, I suppressed a chuckle that tickled my throat. Gianluca had less decency. He burst out laughing and my father-in-law grinned merrily.

"But of course, bambina." His deep, sonorous voice betrayed his amusement. Gently, he hugged the girl to his chest. "I am lucky you are taking such good care of me, because your mama will soon have enough to do with your brother."

"Nonno can help her, can't he?" Isabella shrugged her shoulders. "Or we can keep Gianluca."

"It sounds like I am your pet right now," Riccardo's cousin shook his head with a grin.

"Well, you are, cucciolo." Perkily, she lifted her chin and stared fearlessly into the Italian's eyes.

"Bad idea, mia figlia. He is not house-trained." My husband giggled like a little schoolboy, gladly taking the opportunity to annoy his cousin.

My father-in-law added something in Italian with a raised eyebrow, but it was too fast for me to catch up. I hated it when I did not understand anything. One look at Gianluca showed me that maybe this time it was better. The grin was gone, had made way for a piercing glare. It was safe to assume that it had something to do with his lifestyle.

Isabella struggled free from her father's arms and climbed onto Gianluca's lap. He rested his chin on her head and sighed softly. His expression visibly relaxed. I suppressed another grin. My daughter knew exactly how to wrap men around her little finger and defuse unpleasant situations.

A few moments later, the car passed under the menacing arch of a black metal gate and finally stopped in front of a large white villa, its tall columns towering like fossilized giants before us. My legs trembled beneath me, threatening to collapse under my weight as I got out of the car.

"Careful Stella, we do not want our don's wife to break down." Romano supported me until Riccardo got out of the limo and protectively put his arm around me. Images from my childhood flashed past my inner eye. My stepmother's angry screams made my eardrums vibrate.

"It is all right, cara. No one is going to hurt you." My husband's words gave me strength. I straightened my back and shook off the demons of my childhood. My Italian family would always protect me. As long as I was with them, no one could harm me.

Determined, I broke free from Riccardo's grip and walked with my head held high toward the solid front door. I glanced at the doorbell, but immediately dismissed the idea of ringing it. Instead, I grabbed the heavy metal ring and knocked on the hard wood. The knocking echoed dully. A few minutes later, someone opened the door.

"Stella? Is it really you?" An older man whose hair had long ago turned gray stood before us. Smiling, I looked at his tailcoat, which was, as always, immaculate and without the slightest speck of dust.

"Hello Jonathan. My father is expecting us."

"But of course. Please forgive me." He stepped aside with shuffling moves, giving way to the inside of the house. It gave me a little stab in the heart. Our old butler should have been enjoying his retirement by now, but my stepmother had never paid him enough for that.

The Italians entered after me. My father-in-law carried Isabella, who leaned her head against his shoulder. She was a bit pale and most likely not quite comfortable with meeting her second grandfather. Maybe also because Jonathan stood in front of us like a stiff penguin and looked at me from top to bottom with his mouth open. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Please excuse me. I still can hardly believe you are alive. We were all always praying that it was a misunderstanding and you had just run away from the dragon." His eyes gleamed wetly, and I grabbed his hands.

"It is really me." I squeezed the shaky, wrinkled fingers gently. "My father is in his office?" The butler nodded and pointed to a massive wooden door to our right. I took a deep breath. Now it was a matter of keeping my nerve. I had no idea what was waiting for me there. Was he angry with me for faking my death? Would he tell me to go to hell? Or would he listen to us?

With trembling fingers, I pressed down the metal latch and pushed the door open. Now there was no way back.

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Yes, I know. I just could not resist to make a cut here. Although it wasn't planned like this originally.

What do you think? How will Stella's father react? Will the Italians have to intervene?