CHAPTER 17

"Sometimes the people around you won't understand your journey. They don't need to, it's not for them." - Joubert Botha

Piero Antonio Pov

As I shared the harrowing details of Belle's ordeal with him, I noticed a mix of worry and anger flicker across his face. It was evident that he, too, was deeply affected by what had happened to our dear friend.

The anger in his eyes seemed to fuel a newfound determination within him, and he expressed his desire to participate in seeking justice for Belle.

"When do you plan to tell this to the family?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. My heart sank as I realized my grave mistake – I had forgotten to inform my parents about the incident. The mere thought of their reaction filled me with dread.

Our family had always cherished the birth of a girl, considering it a rare and precious event. I knew that once they learned about Belle's unfortunate experience, their love for her would only intensify, but they would also be furious with me for keeping such crucial information from them.

My mind raced as I contemplated the best way to break the news. I wanted to shield my parents from the harsh reality, but I knew that the truth had to be told.

They had a right to know, especially since Belle had become an inseparable part of our lives, her infectious joy and warmth brightening even the gloomiest of days. She was, quite simply, a walking sunshine.

After our intense conversation, we left my office and walked together to see our guests off. They had an important meeting to attend, and punctuality was crucial. As we bid them farewell, Fabiano approached me, eager to share what Caleb had confided in him about their involvement in the mafia.

Later, as I made my way up to the entertainment room, I could already hear a familiar laughter echoing through the halls. It was a distinctive laugh, one that could only belong to Belle. With a smile on my face, I followed the sound and entered the room.

There, I found Belle surrounded by her brothers, engaged in a playful tickling session. Her face was flushed and her laughter filled the air, bringing joy to everyone present. It was a precious sight that reminded us all of the innocence and happiness that Belle embodied.

I watched as Belle squirmed and giggled, her infectious laughter serving as a reminder of the love and light that she brought into our lives. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the moments of pure joy that we shared as a family, despite the challenges that lay ahead.

As I entered the room, I immediately noticed my daughter's presence. She was engaged in a lively game with her siblings, their laughter filling the air. Amidst the joyous chaos, she suddenly noticed me and with a mischievous grin, she called out, "Papa, help me!"

Her plea was interspersed with laughter, but I could sense something was amiss. Her small frame struggled for breath, indicating that the tickling had become overwhelming. Concerned for her well-being, I swiftly moved to separate them, gently untangling their tickling hands from her delicate body.

As the room gradually quieted down, I turned to my daughter and inquired about the commotion. Her anger was palpable as she recounted the events that had unfolded. It seemed they were engrossed in a lively Xbox game, with a playful consequence for the loser—being subjected to a round of tickles by the victor.

"Papa, Lu-Lu and Emi cheated," she fumed, her voice filled with determination. Her face flushed red with indignation, and it was hard to contain my amusement at her adorable display of frustration.

Unable to resist her charm, I chuckled softly and reassured her, "Alright, Vita mia, we will make sure they are punished for their cheating ways." Her reaction was priceless as she scrunched up her face in a display of defiance towards her siblings, causing everyone in the room to burst into laughter at her irresistible cuteness.

"Come, Vita mia, we need to talk about something," I reassured her, sensing the worry in her eyes upon hearing those words. I gently lifted her up, cradling her in my arms, and together we made our way to my office. Once we arrived, I carefully set her down on a cozy chair, making sure she felt safe and comfortable.

Sitting down beside her, I began to address the events that had transpired earlier. "About what happened earlier, Vita Mia, those two men are actually a part of our family," I explained in a calm and unhurried tone. "The older gentleman is your uncle Lorenzo, and the other one is his son Caleb, your cousin."

I paused, allowing the information to sink in. I wanted her to understand that they were not strangers but rather familiar faces connected to us by blood. I continued, "I want you to know that you don't have to force yourself to not be afraid of them, but I assure you that they won't hurt you."

As I spoke, I maintained eye contact with her, conveying my sincerity and reassuring her of her safety. It was important for her to know that she could trust me and that I would always prioritize her well-being.

"I was startled earlier by the sudden loud sound, Papa," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she nervously fiddled with her hands. "But I'm not scared of them," she continued, referring to the scene earlier. Her innocent eyes searched mine for reassurance, seeking confirmation that everything was alright.

"No, vita mia," I replied gently, using the endearing term I often used for her. "They are not angry at you. It was just a loud noise, something that startled all of us. But you're safe, and they understand that."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, bringing a sense of relief to her young face. Her trust in me was unwavering, and it warmed my heart. I couldn't help but marvel at the resilience and bravery she possessed, even at such a tender age.

As we sat together, a comfortable silence enveloped us, interrupted only by the occasional sound of her small fingers brushing against each other. I took a deep breath, gathering the courage to broach a subject that had been on my mind for some time.

"Vita mia," I began, hesitating slightly, "what would you think if some of our other family members came to our house to meet you?" I looked at her expectantly, uncertain of how she would respond.

Her eyes widened in surprise, the momentary calmness shattered by a mix of excitement and apprehension. She pondered the question, her thoughts visible on her innocent face. With a soft voice, she finally replied, "I... I don't know, Papa. It feels strange, but if it makes you happy, I can try."

A surge of gratitude swelled within me, overwhelming any lingering doubts. She had always been my anchor, my reason to keep going, and her willingness to step out of her comfort zone for me was yet another testament to her extraordinary spirit.

"Thank you, my dear," I murmured, my voice filled with love and admiration. "But remember, if you're not ready yet, it's completely fine. We can take our time and wait until you feel comfortable. Your happiness and well-being are the most important things to me."

Her eyes met mine again, the innocence shining through. A sense of trust and understanding passed between us, unspoken but deeply felt.

As I revealed the number of uncles, aunts, and cousins she had, I couldn't help but worry about overwhelming her with the information. However, to my surprise, a bright smile graced her face, and she asked her next question, shyly but filled with curiosity.

"Will my girl cousin like me, Papa?" Her innocent inquiry touched my heart, and I paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to respond.

"Vita mia," I began gently, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you don't have a girl cousin. All of your cousins are boys." I watched as a hint of sadness flickered across her face, and I sensed her worry about being accepted by her male cousins.

Her eyes, brimming with innocence, met mine, and she spoke softly, "But, Papa, will they still like me? Will they want to play with me?"

My heart ached at her uncertainty, her fear of not being embraced by her new family. I reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, assuring her of my love and understanding.

"Vita mia, I understand your concern," I said, my voice filled with reassurance. "But you know what? Family is about love and acceptance. Your cousins may be boys, but I'm sure they will be thrilled to meet you. They'll see how wonderful and special you are, and they'll want to play with you and be your friends."

Her eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope, and a small smile returned to her face. The power of her innocence and pure heart was a remarkable thing to behold.

"You know," I continued, wanting to ease her worries further, "Uncle Benjamin, who is one of your uncles, has a son who is near your age. Perhaps the two of you can become great friends. He might even teach you new games and share his toys with you."

After assuring my daughter that everything would be alright and that our extended family would accept her, a sense of relief washed over me. I agreed to meet them, understanding the importance of building connections and fostering a sense of belonging for my daughter.

As she happily skipped out of my office, expressing her desire to explore the garden, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. The thought of facing my own mother, whom I respected and feared in equal measure, made my heart skip a beat.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage and reached for the phone, dialing my mother's number. As the phone rang, my mind raced with thoughts of how she would react to the news of my decision. Would she scold me for not consulting her first? Or would she understand and support my desire to introduce my daughter to our extended family?

Finally, the call connected, and my mother's voice came through, filled with warmth and familiarity. "Hello, my dear," she greeted me, her tone laced with love.

"Hello, Mama," I replied, my voice tinged with apprehension. "I wanted to talk to you about something important."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and I held my breath, waiting for her response. My mother had always been a pillar of strength, guiding and disciplining us in her own unique way. I respected her immensely, but the fear of disappointing her still lingered within me.

With a calm demeanor, she encouraged me to continue. "Go ahead, my child. You know you can always share anything with me."