The life of a Mafia princess

• f o u r t y •

Third PoV

It's been 4 days.

4 days. 96 hours. 5760 minutes. 345600 seconds.

4 days since her brother carried her up to her room, stepping over dead bodies without a care in the world.

He put her in her bed and aside from the necessary bathroom trips and clothes changes, she doesn't think that she even moved. Instead, she's been staring at the same spot on the same wall with the same color for 4 days.

Her brothers come into her room occasionally to urge her to talk. Matteo also comes by occasionally, urging her to talk with less desperation than her brothers but he wants her to talk just as much.

But there's nothing to talk about for her.

Everyone was there. Everyone saw what happened. And if they didn't see it because they weren't there, they heard it. She knows this because she heard Cedro talk to Santino about what happened in that room. She doesn't think that either one of them is aware that she heard it, but it doesn't really matter in the end.

Everyone around her just seems to know what happened in a way she doesn't and she's not entirely sure will ever want to.

All she knows for now is that all the conversations about her being in danger, her bodyguards and the stalker like behavior from the three men that killed her mother has come to an end. She grew accustomed to it and now she understands the deeper meaning behind it all.

But despite all of it, her mother - the only one she truly wants to talk to - is still dead. She hasn't magically woken up from a bad dream and crawled into her bed.

All she got was the ugly, harsh truth that the men that were supposed to protect her and take care of her are responsible for what happened to her. And while she doesn't blame them, she also can't overlook their involvement in all of it.

Or her father's involvement.

She always wondered what he was like. When she was younger, she would ask her mother about him but never got an answer. Something always came up before Elia could really say something.

Back then, she didn't understand it.

Now, she wishes she had her mother back as someone that avoids all of her questions. Someone that would rather lie to her face than tell her the truth about who her father was.

But the more she indulges into that thought, the more she realizes that she's had this ever since she came here.

None of her brothers or everyone else ever answered her questions. It was always some vague answer that implied everything but the truth most of the time. Not that she can truly blame them, but it hurts.

She's had enough time the past few days to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the truth could have changed the course of events.

If she would have known who her brothers really are and what they are capable of, she wouldn't have done a lot of things. She wouldn't have allowed them to become as close to her as some of them seem to believe they did.

With that thought process, she even wonders what her life would be like now if she never would have found out about her brothers. Would her mother still be alive? Or would she still have gotten brutally murdered? Right alongside with herself.