Older Brothers | Mafia Overprotective

chapter three - the family drama

The house was positively exquisite. All I could do was stare. Wow.

This was the most gorgeous front door I'd ever seen. It's so pretty. I could only imagine the amount of effort that went into this door alone.

"Isabella?" Leonardo poked my shoulder, "Hello? Are you there?"

I shoved his hand off me, "Nice house." I commented.

"Thank you," He replied, "I didn't design it though, Nero did."

I nodded. I love this house, but I won't trust him. He knew I was being abused in that house, right? He wrote nasty letters with nasty things and never bothered to help.

He may be my biological father, but he's no man in my eyes.

The utterly gorgeous front door swung open and a tall-ish man walked out, "Dad! The ball, please?" He yelled.

Leonardo deflated the ball and threw it away. The man looked at him, puzzled, "Yo?! That's unfair!" Leonardo sighed and just stared at him longer in response.

The man standing in front of us was young yet intimidating. He had broad shoulders and a strong, athletic build, the kind that made you think twice about crossing him. His hair was dark and neatly styled, and his sharp jawline gave him a serious, almost severe look. But his eyes softened that impression; they were kind and filled with a genuine happiness that seemed to light up his entire face.

For a moment, I didn't recognize him. His presence was imposing, almost overwhelming. But then, I noticed the casual way he had used the word "Yo," something that seemed out of place for someone older.

No twenty-six-year-old or twenty-one-year-old would say that so naturally, especially not in this context. It had to be Vincent, the nineteen-year-old.

His eyes searched the surroundings until they landed on me, his mouth flew open, and shock and awe swam in his eyes. "Oh."

Leonardo began to introduce us, but I cut him off. "I know," I said, my gaze still fixed on the young man.

Vincent's face lit up with excitement. "You remember me?"

I shrugged. "No, Leonardo told me you and Lucian were playing football. Plus, only a 19-year-old would use the word 'Yo' with a father."

Vincent and Leonardo shared a grin, laughing a little. The moment of shared amusement was oddly comforting, even if I wasn't ready to fully trust it yet.

"Come inside," Vincent said, stepping aside and gesturing towards the open door. "I'll send someone to get your bags."

I shook my head. "I don't have any bags."

"How do you not have any—" Vincent began to question.

"Don't, Vince. I already went through this." Leonardo cut in.

Vincent then extended his hand to show me the inside of the house. Jesus fucking christ, it's even bigger than I imagined.

"I'm sure you're tired, so I'll keep everyone at bay. I'll take you to your room now." He gave me a small smile.

I don't have anything against him, right? He didn't support and fund my abusers right?

"That's okay," I said, "My rooms right there, isn't it?" I pointed to the tiny door attached to the kitchen. It only made sense if I'd be doing all the chores and cooking, I should be there.

"What? No, that's a pantry." Vincent laughed, he then rushed me up the stairs and opened a white tall door.

No fucking way.