Chapter 5

Mirabella

The cold tile floor was the first thing I felt as I swung my feet off the narrow cot. My body still ached from the slap Damon had given me two nights ago, but I didn’t wince this time. I was getting better at hiding the pain. Puto stirred beside me, his soft whimper breaking the stillness.

“Stay close,” I whispered, slipping on my hoodie.

A firm knock followed by the slow creak of the door interrupted the quiet.

“Miss Russo?” The officer’s voice was cautious, almost gentle. “They’ve arrived.”

They. My father. My brother. People I didn’t know but was apparently tied to by blood.

Puto tried to follow, but the officer stepped in. I didn’t hesitate.

“He’s with me,” I said, my voice flat but firm.

There must have been something in my eyes, because the officer simply nodded and stepped back. I reached for Puto’s hand, and we walked out together—two lost kids facing a world we didn’t ask for.

Alexander

Pulling up outside the D.C. precinct felt like walking into another man’s life.

Xander sat beside me, arms folded, jaw tight, like he was bracing for impact. We weren’t supposed to come here. Not to this city. Not like this.

The moment we stepped through the glass doors, the room shifted. Conversations died mid-sentence. Badges and bulletproof vests didn’t hide the fear in their eyes. They recognized me—not because I introduced myself, but because the Russo name carried a storm with it.

The officer, a balding man with liver spots on his temples, rushed forward with a clipboard.

“Mr. Russo—these are the temporary guardianship papers for Miss Mirabella Russo. Everything’s in order.”

My eyes hovered over the papers, then snapped at him..

"Excuse me? Temporary? "

I snapped and he was already trembling..

"S-Sir.. Due to formalities, we can't-"

He stopped and looked down in fear.

"I want permanent custody of my daughter.. She is mine. "

He nodded and quickly walked away and soon returned with another document.

My hand hovered for a moment before signing. There was something surreal about it—inking your name next to a daughter you’ve never held. Seventeen years is too late. Still, my hand didn’t tremble. I’d made peace with war. But never with regret.

“She’s coming out in a moment,” the officer added before retreating.

I could feel Xander watching me. Hell, I could feel everyone watching me. But I didn’t care. All I could think was—Will she look like Isabella? Will she look like me? Will she be scared?

Then I saw her.

She came out slowly, her shoulders drawn in tight, like she’d built a fortress around herself that hadn’t fallen in years. Blonde waves spilled over her shoulders. Her eyes were lowered, but the second I saw her, I knew.

That was my daughter.

I moved before I could think and dropped to one knee, pulling her into my chest.

She didn’t push away. She stiffened, yes—but then slowly, slowly, I felt her lean in. Her body relaxed. Her head rested against my shoulder. My throat burned.

“My baby girl,” I whispered. “My Principessa.”

Mirabella

The scent hit me first. Sandalwood. Expensive cologne. Something warm and familiar. The same smell I used to get from a shirt kept in mom's closet.. Sometimes she would let me wear it and smiled..

His arms were strong but careful, like he didn’t trust himself not to break me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My chest was tight and I didn’t understand what I was feeling. Safe? Overwhelmed?

He pulled away and tilted my chin up. His eyes were green. Familiar, kind of. We shared cheekbones. Bone structure. Blood?

“I’m your father,” he said softly, smiling like the words hurt to say out loud.

I blinked. “You… look like me.”

He laughed. Deep and rich. Another laugh echoed behind him, and I turned to see another man, a few years older than me maybe, watching me with a soft smile.

He stepped closer and raised a hand—just slightly. Instinct took over and I flinched, expecting pain. He froze, his expression faltering.

“I would never hurt you,” he said. “I’m Xander. Your brother.”

My brother.

“Hi,” I whispered, suddenly shy.

He chuckled and ruffled my hair like I was five, but it wasn’t rough. It was gentle. Familiar in a way I couldn’t explain.

Then I felt a shift.

“Let’s go home,” my… father said. “Your brothers can’t wait to meet you.”

Brothers. Plural.

I nodded hesitantly and walked with them—until the car came into view. Sleek, matte-black. BMW. It looked like a batmobile. But I paused.

“Wait!” I turned back. “Puto’s coming too, right?”

My father blinked, surprised. His eyes landed on Puto, who stood silently a few feet behind me, his hands clasped in front of him like a nervous soldier.

“That’s… your friend?” Xander asked.

“My brother,” I corrected.

My father’s jaw clenched. “Sweetheart… we can’t just take in another kid without paperwork. He’s not our legal responsibility.”

“He is mine,” I snapped. “I’m almost 18. Four months. I’m his legal guardian until then.”

“Baby…” My father stepped forward. “That’s not how it works. There are laws.”

“Then I’m not going.” I folded my arms and stood between them and Puto like a barrier.

Xander sighed under his breath. “She’s just like mom.”

The officer from earlier approached, overhearing the conversation. “His legal guardianship is being processed. Someone’s due to pick him up in a week.”

I stared at him. “There’s no one. His mom’s dead. His dad’s a monster. There’s no family.”

Puto tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “You should go. I’ll be fine. I’ve got my meds. I can stay here. You… you should meet them.”

“You’re my family too,” I said.

His small smile nearly cracked me.

Xander

The kid was smart. Too smart. He played his cards right and got her on his side without lifting a finger. Meanwhile, Dad and I were practically begging.

Still, Dad gave in. He looked at the officer again.

“When the guardian shows up, I want him transferred to my custody. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the officer gulped.

I didn’t know how, but we were going to make it happen. For now, I stepped aside and watched as Dad took Mirabella’s hand and led her to the car.

She glanced back only once—to Puto, who waved at her with the bravery of someone used to being left behind.

Mirabella

The leather seats felt unreal beneath me. I kept waiting for someone to wake me up.

“Mirabella?” my father said gently. “Who took your photo while you were asleep?”

I blinked at him, confused. “What?”

He leaned back, eyes narrowed.

“There’s a photo of you on my phone. You were sleeping. Who took it?”

I stared at him.

“…Why do you ask like you’re going to kill someone?”

He didn’t answer.

My brother? He just grinned.