Third Person POV
The next morning, the house buzzed with a tension none of us could name. Lorenzo had barely slept — none of them had — and the moment the sun broke over the horizon, Lorenzo called a meeting in the main hall. It wasn't unusual for family meetings to happen at dawn in the La Rosa household, but this one was different.
The air was heavy with something we hadn't felt in years. Anticipation. Leonardo arrived first, still in his workout clothes, sweat glistening on his neck. He'd probably been in the gym since five. Elio and Nico followed soon after — the twins, identical but complete opposites.
Elio had a smirk plastered on his face, probably thinking about what prank he could pull before breakfast, while Nico, as always, was quiet and unreadable, his sharp eyes missing nothing. Lorenzo stood at the head of the long oak table, Alessander and Emilio at his side.
The moment Leonardo noticed the serious expressions on our faces, his brow furrowed.
"What's this about?" he asked, folding his arms.
Lorenzo didn't answer right away. Instead, he motioned for them to sit. When everyone had settled, he spoke — his voice calm but heavy with something uncharacteristic: emotion.
"I received a call last night," he began. "From New York." That got their attention.
Even Elio stopped fidgeting. Lorenzo's gaze dropped for a moment before he continued.
"Your mother is dead. She was in a car accident. But... that's not all." The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Then, quietly, he said, "She had a daughter. Your sister."
Leonardo shot to his feet so fast his chair screeched across the marble floor.
"What?" Emilio nodded, stepping in.
"It's true. Father got the call from a social worker. She's seventeen. Her name's Alessandra." Leonardo's face twisted with disbelief, anger, confusion — a storm of emotions.
"And you're sure she's ours?" Lorenzo took out his phone and turned it towards the younger ones.
"See for yourself." The photo on the screen said it all. A little girl, fragile-looking, with the unmistakable La Rosa eyes — dark, intense, and far too wise for her age.
Leonardo froze. His throat worked, but no sound came out. His fists clenched at his sides, his usual fury replaced with something else — something raw.
"She looks... like aless," he murmured. Then, more fiercely,
"That woman took her away from us." Lorenzo's jaw tightened, but there was a hint of sorrow in his voice when he said, "Yes. But now, she's coming home."
That was all it took. Elio broke into a grin, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"We have a little sister? Oh, she has no idea what she's walking into." Leonardo glared at him.
"Elio, don't even think about pulling one of your stupid pranks on her." Elio raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Relax, Leo. I'm not gonna scare the kid. I'll... ease her in. Slowly."
"Ease her in?" Leonardo growled.
"You'll stay away from her." Elio laughed under his breath.
"God, you're already acting like an overprotective dad." Leonardo shot him a look that could kill, but before he could respond, Nico finally spoke. His voice was low and calm, but there was steel in it.
"We protect her. That's it." Everyone went quiet. When Nico spoke, people listened. For a moment, Lorenzo's eyes softened as he looked over his sons.
"Good," he said. "Because she'll need all of you." The rest of the day was a blur of movement.
Elio and Leonardo argued over her room, Nico quietly took charge of the details neither of them noticed: soft lighting, new sheets, fresh paint in warm cream tones instead of the heavy mahogany that dominated the rest of the house. He even placed a vase of white lilies by the window.
Emilio and Alessander helped with the rest, setting up bookshelves, checking security, making sure everything was perfect. And through it all, Lorenzo walked through the halls with that same look in his eyes — that strange mix of pride and pain, like he still couldn't quite believe this was real.