I didn't exactly choose to be stolen at four years old.
But the French underworld isn't big on consent.
One minute I was Donatella Acardi, Mafia royalty. The next? Just another stolen kid bleeding in someone else's basement.
That's where I met Ami...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Donatella POV:
The station was quiet-too quiet. That eerie kind of still that made even the fluorescent lights feel judgmental. You sat on the cold metal bench in the holding cell, elbows on my knees, chin resting on the back of my hands. Amir was beside me, spinning a paperclip he probably stole off an officer's desk, his eyes darting around the station with that usual mix of boredom and mild irritation.
I didn't say anything. I didn't have to. I was calculating.
Then the door opened.
Heavy boots echoed against the tile like thunder. My head didn't lift right away, but your eyes did-and there they were. Armando and Leonardo Acardi.
I didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just stared.
Two statues in pressed black suits and coiled muscle, their presence alone causing the officers to straighten nervously. You scanned them like a machine, pulling stored data from a vault in your mind like files from a dusty cabinet.
**Armando Acardi. Age: 53. Retired Don of the Italian Mafia.** Face weathered with time and rage, eyes that had seen too much blood, too much betrayal. But behind all that iron was something softer. Something that confused the hell out of you.
**Leonardo Acardi. Age: 23. Current Don.**
A fortress of a man. Clean-shaven, crisp-cut hair, gray dress shirt under an obsidian blazer. Emotionless. Duty-bound. He wasn't looking *at* me-he was studying me, dissecting your movements like I was an opponent in a war he hadn't started but planned to win.
My expression didn't change.
Armando took one shaky step forward. His mouth parted. "Dios mío..." he breathed, voice rough like gravel but dripping in disbelief. "Mírate... Eres el reflejo de tu madre..."
("My God..." he breathed, voice rough like gravel but dripping in disbelief. "Look at you... You're a reflection of your mother...")
I blinked once.
He stepped closer to the bars, hand pressed to his chest. "Tienes sus ojos... esa misma mirada feroz. Carajo, eres igualita a ella." His voice cracked ever so slightly at the end. "Mi princesita......"
(You have her eyes... that same fierce look. Fuck, you're just like her." His voice cracked ever so slightly at the end. "My little princess...)
I didn't respond. Not to *that.*
My tone was dry, clipped, nothing but business. "This is Amir. He's with me."
Armando blinked, taken aback. His gaze shifted to the boy beside you who straightened up in an instant. Amir gave a polite nod, keeping a calm expression-but you could see the flicker of nerves in his fingers.
Leonardo looked him over, once, twice, like a wolf sizing up prey. His voice was low and level. "And he is... what to you?"
"Family," you said flatly.
Leonardo's jaw twitched slightly, but he said nothing. Armando looked between us, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to form the words.
The officer-clearly uncomfortable-rushed to the cell. "W-we've finished the verification, sir. Paperwork is ready if you'd like to take them."
Leonardo nodded sharply.
Me and Amir stood as the cell door creaked open. I walked out first, brushing past Armando without a glance. He looked like he wanted to reach for me, say something, *anything*-but he didn't. He didn't dare.
Once outside, the black car was waiting-sleek, armored, obvious. I slid into the back seat without hesitation, Amir following right after. Leonardo got in front beside the driver. Armando sat beside you.
The car started rolling.
He looked at me again, eyes searching my face like he was reading a holy book. "Mi amor, has crecido tanto... I used to carry you in one arm," he chuckled sadly, shaking his head. "Siempre tan valiente... tan terca. Just like now."
("My love, you have grown so much... I used to carry you in one arm," he chuckled sadly, shaking his head. "Always so brave... so stubborn. Just like now.")
I looked out the window.
"¿Tienes hambre? We can stop, get something. Anything you want."
("Are you hungry?")
"...No."
Silence. Thick enough to choke on.
Armando let out a soft sigh. "I never stopped hoping. Never. Not a single day. When you were taken-"
My stare hardened.
He stopped.
Leonardo's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "We'll get back. You'll have everything you need. Whatever you want."
Amir's brow arched slightly, but I didn't acknowledge it. I still hadn't said *his* name. Not once. And I wasn't going to. He wasn't my father. He was a man who shared my blood. That's all.
And Leonardo? I wouldn't even dignify that connection with a title.
You were Donatella. He was Armando. Leonardo was... just Leonardo.
This wasn't a family reunion.
This was infiltration.
No strings. No feelings. No history.
Just the mission.
And I am going to finish what I started.
No matter what.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Serisously, huge thanks for diving into this! If you enjoyed it, don't be shy - show some love with a follow, like, or comment. Thanks a bunch, y'all! 🌟
