CHAPTER 9

"You are a work in progress, and that is something to be loved and celebrated." - Unknown

Fabiano David POV

As Dad asked the little nymph to take a bath, she reluctantly agreed, but I couldn't help but notice that she seemed to be having a hard time walking. Her steps were hesitant and unsteady, almost as if she were in pain.

I also noticed that she flinched whenever someone shouted or when there were loud noises around her.

Deep down, I had a nagging feeling that she was hiding something from us. Perhaps there was a secret she was guarding, and it was causing her distress.

I decided to wait until Dad and the little nymph were done with their bath before delving deeper into the matter.

I wanted to give her some time to relax and feel comfortable before broaching the subject. I knew that bombarding her with questions right away might only add to her unease.

As I noticed Alessandro and Adriano getting up from their seats and making their way towards the stairs, a hint of suspicion crept into my voice as I asked, "Where are you two going?" My tone was cold, betraying my concern for the little nymph.

Adriano, always full of energy, turned towards me with an air of excitement. "We're going to see Isla," he replied, his voice laced with enthusiasm.

"We want to show her something funny on my phone that we think she'll really enjoy!"

His explanation was delivered with such genuine delight that my initial skepticism began to soften. It seemed that their intention was innocent enough, wanting to bring some joy to the little nymph.

However, as I watched them make their way towards the stairs, my uneasiness about Isla's current state lingered, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was troubling her.

Isla, my delicate little nymph with a radiant spirit, had been a constant source of enchantment and happiness for all of us. Her infectious laughter and boundless curiosity brightened even the gloomiest of days.

As I sat in my office, surrounded by stacks of unfinished work, I immersed myself in the task at hand. With pen in hand, I signed each paper diligently, trying to regain a sense of order amidst the chaos that had infiltrated our usually tranquil abode.

Suddenly, a knock on my door interrupted my concentration, causing me to look up from my desk. "Come in," I responded, expecting another interruption to my solitary work session.

As Elio entered the room, a sense of anticipation mingled with worry filled the air. Elio, known for his nurturing nature and role as the mother hen in our household, had a knack for sensing when something was amiss. The concern in his eyes was unmistakable, and I knew that whatever he had to say involved Belle, another member of our close-knit community.

"What is it?" I asked, my curiosity piqued but also bracing myself for what might follow. It seemed that my intuition had not led me astray, and the conversation was about to delve into a realm of uncertainties and challenges.

Elio took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving mine. "It's about Belle," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of worry and compassion. "I've noticed some changes in her lately, and I'm growing increasingly concerned about her well-being."

My heart sank at his words. Belle, a spirited and vivacious individual, had always been a source of light within our close community. Her laughter was contagious, and her vibrant personality uplifted everyone around her. To hear that she was going through a difficult time weighed heavily on my soul.

"What kind of changes?" I inquired, my voice filled with a mixture of empathy and trepidation.

Elio's words echoed in the room, heavy with concern and filled with a sense of responsibility. I could see the worry etched on his face, a mirror of my own thoughts. The delicate balance we had maintained within our family was about to be disrupted by a revelation about Belle, our younger sister.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for the conversation that would inevitably unravel the carefully crafted facade we presented to the world. Our outward demeanor, often perceived as emotionless and cold, masked the depth of our love and commitment to our family. When it came to our loved ones, we would drop everything and do whatever it took to ensure their well-being.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice steady but my heart pounding. The apprehension in my tone betrayed the hint of fear I felt deep inside. In that moment, I knew that Elio held something significant to share, something that would shed light on Belle's behavior.

Elio hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before he began to express his observations. His words resonated with my own experiences, confirming my suspicions that something was indeed wrong with Belle. The fact that she easily got scared by loud noises, regardless of their source, indicated a heightened level of anxiety. But it was her constant vigilance, her fearful glances as if anticipating harm from behind, that truly concerned us.

Realizing that we both had made the same observations brought a sense of shared responsibility and solidarity. It was reassuring to know that we were united in our dedication to our sister's well-being. I offered Elio a reassuring nod, silently conveying my understanding and support.

"I will talk to Father," I affirmed, my voice filled with determination. The gravity of the situation demanded that we gather more information, that we understand the root cause of Belle's anxieties. Our father's insights would be invaluable in unraveling the mystery and finding a way to alleviate our sister's distress.

As Elio exited my office, my attention was immediately drawn to Salvatore, who held a set of files in his hands. Taking a seat, he placed the files on my desk, revealing the contents that detailed the shipment of firearms and drugs for our mafia's business. His voice, deep and cold as always, delivered the news of trouble with the Russian faction.

"The Russians are causing trouble again with the shipment," Salvatore informed me, his tone laced with a firm resolve that sent a chill down my spine.

A sense of responsibility and authority washed over me as I absorbed the information. The rivalries and conflicts within the underworld were constant reminders of the risks we faced in our line of work. In situations like these, it was essential to assert our dominance and ensure that others understood the consequences of crossing paths with us.

"Teach them a lesson," I responded, my voice reflecting the determination and authority I had cultivated over the years. "Make it clear to the Russians that they should not dare to cross our path again."

As we addressed the pressing matters of our Mafia business, I couldn't help but turn the conversation towards a more personal topic. Salvatore, known for his stoic nature and aversion to physical contact, had always kept a distance from others. I had observed a similar behavior in him, much like my own reluctance to allow strangers into my personal space.

Curiosity gnawed at me as I asked him about his thoughts on Isabelle, our sister. It was important for me to gauge his perspective and understand how he felt about her presence within our family.

"What do you think about Isabelle?" I inquired, my tone carrying a hint of caution. "I know you don't like strangers, especially when it comes to someone touching you."

Salvatore paused for a moment, his eyes focused and calculating. Then, in his characteristically straightforward manner, he responded, "It's fine, as long as she won't go near me or bother me."

As minutes turned into hours of discussing business with Salvatore, our attention was abruptly pulled away by a sudden commotion outside. Panic filled the air, and I noticed Adriano, crying. Concerned, I hurried toward them, desperate to understand what had transpired.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice laced with worry and urgency. Amidst the cries and chaos, the only words I managed to decipher were Belle's name, hurt, and doctor. My heart sank, dread settling in as I pieced together the fragments of information.

Driven by a mix of fear and determination, I rushed towards our father's room. The sight that greeted me shattered my heart into a million pieces, a scene I could never have imagined even in my darkest nightmares. Belle, our beloved little sister, lay before me, her delicate form marred by a tapestry of black and blue bruises and both old and fresh cuts.

A surge of emotions, ranging from disbelief to anger, coursed through my veins. Our family had always prided ourselves on our resilience, our ability to rise above pain and inflict it upon others when necessary. Yet, the sight of Belle's battered body defied everything we stood for. It evoked a primal fury, a protective instinct that rose within me.

"What the hell is this?" I thundered, my voice echoing with a mix of fury and disbelief. Anguish and anger intertwined as I surveyed the room, my eyes burning with an intensity that could ignite the darkest of fires. "Who the fuck did this to her?"

Silence hung heavy in the air as the weight of the situation settled upon us all. The violation of our sister, the depths of her suffering, had shaken us to our core. In that moment, every ounce of our loyalty, strength, and cunning became focused on one thing: seeking justice for Belle and ensuring that those responsible would face the full wrath of our vengeance.

As the room fell into a tense silence, my gaze shifted from one family member to another. The raw emotions reflected on their faces mirrored my own. This was a turning point, a moment that would define our actions moving forward. In the face of such brutality, we were united by an unbreakable bond, fueled by a shared determination to protect our own at any cost.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I turned to face my family. The resolve in my eyes matched the fire burning within me. "We will find out who did this," I declared, my voice filled with a quiet determination. "And they will pay for every single mark inflicted upon her."

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