Mia Figlia

Chapter 8 ✔️

PoV Riccardo

"Isabella's mother is physically doing fine. They will release her from hospital in a couple of days. Her memory on the other hand is still messed up. So far, she does not remember anything. Looks like she is stuck with her memory somewhere before she had her daughter," Giovanni informed me through the phone. He sounded rather disappointed. The possibility was present that my father was already planning my wedding. Two weeks ago, he seemed determined to make me marry his granddaughter's mother. That was not going to happen, I promised myself. Never fucking ever.

"Still, I don't want to risk anything." I watched Isabella playing at the beach. The sun was shining bright. An almost sweltering heat was in the air, occasionally cooled by a gentle salty breeze. Without it, one could have mistaken the beach with the Etna, our local volcano. Up-to-the-moment dormant but you never knew when this fucker was going to erupt and burn everything in its path. Much like my father. He always ruined it all. To avoid him, I took my daughter and flew to Sicily, as soon as I heard that Isabella's mother was awake. After that bittersweet moment at the hospital, I had to get away as far as possible from that woman. Unfortunately, sleep had been a disaster since then once again. Without one or two bottles of Scotch, I did not need to go to bed. My uncle, at whose castle we were staying, had already expressed his displeasure. Giovanni interrupted my thoughts.

"What is your plan if she is going to remember her daughter? You can't keep that girl away from her mother," he reminded me, his voice was distinctly cool.

"Sta 'zitto!" With one hand I massaged my now hurting temple.

"Riccardo don't tell me to shut up. You know that I am right." My blood started to boil. I could even see and hear his evil grin through the phone.

"And that is exactly the reason I want you to shut up. Talk to you later. Have things to do now." Growling I ended the call. I hated this discussion, since everyone loved to remind me, that my little girl was legally not my daughter. As if I cared about their words. She was mine, only mine.

"Papà!" Isabella came running towards me, holding something in her tiny hands. She almost fell when she stopped abruptly in front of me but found her balance quick. It impressed me every time how fit she was. She was not even out of breath from running now, after playing all day at the beach and in the water. A few days ago, a crazy thought came up. Why not training her and making her my heir? If it was not for my fear that she would get hurt, it would be an excellent choice. She was a strong-minded girl. In all likelihood like her mom.

Her mom. Immediately, I saw the image of that fragile woman in the hospital again before my inner eye. Her sweet scent I inhaled when kissing her on her cheek. I remembered the little tingling on my lips afterwards when I fled from her room after accidentally waking her from coma. There was no such thing as coincidence, but I could not figure it out why she had to wake up right then. Somehow, I was disappointed that I could not watch her sleep anymore.

"Papà! Look what I have found!" Isabella beamed with joy while presenting me proud a handful of Cowrie shells. It was amazing to watch how she enjoyed the small things in life. Not corrupted yet by the evil world she would have to face as a grown-up. Until then, it was my duty to protect her from any danger. My sweet little innocent girl. Mia figlia.

"They are beautiful, fiorellina." I smiled at her.

"What does that word mean?" Patiently she waited for an answer. Looking at me with her big brown eyes curiously. My heart melted like ice under the Sicilian sun. How could someone not love such a sweet girl? If I ever found out which bastard abandoned her and her mother, I would kill him on sight. But in the meantime, I had a child to raise.