Evelina

(i)

Evelina

"Papà, I'm back," I called, swinging the main door open. His familiar footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"You're home early," he remarked with a warm smile.

I laughed, shrugging off my jacket. "I got what I needed and left quickly. Almost got caught, though."

"You could've gone sightseeing, tesoro," he teased, using his affectionate nickname for me. (Sweetheart)

I rolled my eyes. "Papà, Germany is not the best place for sightseeing."

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "You're just like me."

I nudged his shoulder playfully. "What can I say? Like father, like daughter."

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "Well, tesoro, how about some dinner?" (Sweetheart.)

My stomach growled loudly, answering for me. I nodded. "I guess that's a yes."

Lorenzo Giannino, my Papà, isn't technically my biological father. My real father—better known as the sperm donor—kicked me out when I couldn't kill an enemy at six years old. Who expects a child to pull the trigger? Eighteen years later, here I am, living a life I never imagined with Lorenzo and his family—who I call my real family now. He's given me freedom, love, and a true fatherly bond.

Do I miss my old life? Not at all. My mother, Elizabeth Morrigan, is dead. My two older brothers, Lucian and Dante, don't care about me, and my younger brother, Blaze, doesn't even know I exist. I am Evelina Giannino now—formerly Eve Morrigan. My biological father, Draven Morrigan, is the Don of the American Mafia. But that life is long behind me.

"So, how's Donna life treating you?" Papà asked as we sat down to eat.

"Just the usual," I replied, sensing there was more to his question. "Why?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "How would you feel about a little... vacation?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Papà, just get to the point."

He took a deep breath. "Well, figlia, our base in America has been attacked. There's a mole in the organization, and I'm getting old. The only person I trust to handle this is you. I know it's not easy, but I need you to go back. I need you to find out what's going on." (Daughter.)

I clenched my jaw, not from fear but from the weight of responsibility. "Will Antonio be there?"

"Of course," Papà said with a knowing smile. "Tony's already on his way."

I slammed my fists on the table. "HE PROMISED ME HE'D BE HERE! THAT LYING PIECE OF GARBAGE!"

Papà patted my back soothingly. "Mia cara figlia, he had no choice. Don't kill him, tesoro. He's my world." (My dear daughter. Sweetheart.)

I raised an eyebrow, staring at him. "Then what am I?"

He smiled softly, his voice full of warmth. "Il mio mondo," he said, gently. (My world.)

"You know 'il mio mondo' means 'my world,' right?" I asked, giving him a pointed look.

"That's the point," he replied with a wink, standing up to clear the table. "Together, you and Tony are my world. The only difference is, he is my blood, and you are my love."

I felt my heart swell at his words, though I tried not to show it. "If Mama heard you say that, she'd tear your mouth off and throw me out."

Papà laughed. "Your mama is smart. She knows the difference between my love for her and my love for you."

As if on cue, Mama's graceful silhouette appeared in the doorway. Isabella Giannino—the previous Donna of the Italian Mafia and the woman who saved me when I first arrived in Italy. Her presence commanded attention.

"Who's talking about me?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Mama, Papà just said I'm his love while Tony is his blood," I explained, trying to suppress a grin.

Mama nodded, unbothered. "He's right. You may be his love, and Tony may be his blood, but I... am his everything."

I couldn't help but laugh, though it was true. Mama and Papà's love for each other was unshakable, something I both admired and occasionally found nauseating.

"Papà, I want to go to America," I said suddenly, breaking the moment.

Papà furrowed his brow. "Cosa c'è che non va, tesoro?" (What's wrong, sweetheart?)

"I miss my husband, and your PDA isn't exactly fun to watch," I muttered, throwing a glance at Mama.

Mama smiled knowingly, walking over to Papà and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Lorenzo, she has a point. Maybe it's time she joins Tony."

Papà looked at her with complete adoration. "As always, amore mio, you know best." He pulled her close, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. Their love was a beacon of strength and resilience—beautiful and yet, sickening at times. (My love.)

Isabella turned to me, her eyes soft. "Go to America, Evelina. Find the mole, reunite with Tony, and show them what it means to be a Giannino."

I nodded, determination swelling inside me. "I'll make you proud, Mama. Both of you."

Papà and Mama exchanged a loving glance before he spoke. "You already have, figlia. You already have." (Daughter.)

Just then, an annoying voice broke the moment. "What about me?"

I rolled my eyes. God, not him again. "Morning, Lina," My brother, Mateo Giannino greeted with his usual smirk.

"Morning, Mateo," I replied flatly. "Where are Enzo and Xandro?"

"Arguing over some manner business," Mateo said casually, making us all laugh.

Mama shook her head, smiling at Papà. "I'm telling you, amore, Sandro is just like Evelina."

Papà chuckled, clearly amused. "He's another little Evelina in the making." 

"Dad, he's nineteen." Mateo said, rolling his eyes. Jealous much.

I smiled, a small but proud one. This family—my family—was everything to me. And I would protect them at all costs.