Alessander POV
I exchanged a confused look with Emilio, then turned back to our father. He sat motionless behind his desk, eyes fixed on the laptop screen as if the world outside that screen no longer existed.
For a long moment, he didn't blink, didn't breathe — just stared. There was something in his face I hadn't seen in years. Awe. Disbelief. And then... a smile. I froze. I had seen my father smile before, sure — in photographs from our childhood, in moments long buried under the weight of blood and business. But now, watching him smile again, it was almost unsettling.
It softened him. Made him look human. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. His expression darkened; the warmth drained from his eyes, replaced by a familiar storm. His jaw clenched, and his hand slammed down on the table hard enough to rattle the glass of whiskey beside him. "That fucking bitch," he growled, his voice low and venomous, switching to Italian halfway through the curse.
"She took my daughter with her — and didn't even bother to tell me." Emilio and I froze. Daughter? He looked up at us, his eyes cold and blazing with purpose.
"Make preparations," he said sharply.
"My princess is coming home." Neither of us spoke.
The words hung in the air, echoing louder with every second that passed. His princess. When he finally calmed down, I asked, "Who was on the call? What do you mean, daughter?"
His voice softened, but there was still an edge to it — the kind of edge that came from regret. "Your mother was pregnant when she left," he said.
"She went to New York, changed her name, started a new life. Now she's dead... and I'm taking guardianship of your sister." My chest tightened. For a moment, I couldn't process it. The idea that there was someone out there — someone we'd never known.
A sister.
I swallowed hard. "Are you sure she's really our sister?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned the laptop toward us. And there she was. A girl, with dark hair that framed her face in soft waves, and eyes that looked exactly like mine staring back from the screen. The resemblance was uncanny.
Same nose, same stubborn tilt to the chin. It was like looking into a mirror that had rewound time. "Dio..." Emilio whispered under his breath.
For a few seconds, none of us said anything. Then something shifted inside me — something fierce and primal. A strange mix of awe and protectiveness surged through me, strong enough to make my pulse race.
She was ours. Our sister.
A part of this family — whether she knew it or not. My hands clenched at my sides. I didn't know her. I didn't even know what kind of life she'd lived, or what she'd been told about us. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty: anyone who hurt her, would regret it.
Emilio broke the silence first, a half-smile forming on his face. "Guess we've got a little sister now," he said quietly. I nodded, unable to look away from her picture.
"Yeah," I murmured.
"And God help anyone who tries to take her away from us again."