Daughter In Italian Novels & Stories

The elder daughter looked like her mother but with blonde hair, while the youngest was a mixture having her mother's face and hair but father’s eyes and smile. “Is her family. My Beta Damon Petridis and their children Zoe, Alexander, and Regina.” he explained, pointing to each person, his arm brushing mine as his chest pressed into my back. “This is my Gamma’s family. Ezio Salvi, his mate Dayna, and their son Valter. And this is my Delta Gionata Cavallo with his mate Tasha and their daughter Dania.” he continued to point out pictures.

“Your daughter Mariella…” “Mariella?” Enrico creased his forehead. He didn’t expect his daughter to be involved with—wait. “Haven’t you moved on yet, Marchetti? My daughter forgot about you. Leave her alone.” “She signed a contract with me.” “Signed a contract? She’s just a f*cking twelve-year-old girl. How can she sign a contract with you in the first place? She’s under my custody—”

) She said after moving her eyes to every corner of the room, her lips stretching into a smirk as she saw the candle on her son’s desk. Heh! Stupido. (Stupid.) Dante who is staring at his son with his calculating eyes nodded his head, agreeing with his wife. “Anche io.” ( So do I. ) Zita's smirk grew wider as she continued to observe her surroundings but Dante spoke again, his voice deep and sharp, as if he’s talking to a stranger. “Preferisco Roma.” ( I prefer Rome. ) Nicholas didn’t respond to his father’s words but dealt with his emails one by one, his eyes focusing on the matter he’s typing, his fingers working like machines in the factory, with perfection.

**Next Morning** “Il mio bambino.” Crystal's mother, Martina, said in a sing-song tone as she and her husband came in. (Il mio bambino is an Italian language and it means ‘my baby' in English) She looked around and saw that it was only the maids that were there. “And where is the young miss?” She asked them with eye narrowed on them. “Welcome, ma'am and sir.” They all chorused. “She is still asleep.” One of them answered.

She smiles at him, he is so childish sometimes. "So, is there any reason why you called for me?" She finally asks, putting an end to her inner monologue which was about whether she should be worried or not. "Can't I ask to see my daughter without having any reason?" Her old man who isn't exactly that old, asks her. "Cut the chase, dad. I can tell you have something to say. Your face is screaming "Will she like my idea of imprisoning her?" " "Dad loves you, you know that right?" He defends himself, finally accepting that he is actually imprisoning her at last.

"I'm telling you that I wasn't the one behind this. I agree that I don't like you for her but after Ornella told me that she was pregnant, I pulled back. Besides, I would never cut the brakes of your car knowing she was going to be in there with you" "Says the man who let Lombardi abuse his daughter for I don't know how long. Cut the crap, Giovanni. If she loses the baby, my baby, you will pay with your life" "Carina is my fucking daughter. I will never hurt her De Luca. Never!" "What?" I blink my eyes open. Was I hallucinating or did Giovanni say Carina- I am his daughter? **************************************************

His voice softened. “Not that I mind, but just to clear my conscience, who is the chosen one?” “Sofia Morelli.” “This name is not strange to me.” “She is the daughter of Giuseppe Morelli, who worked for me for many years.” “A simple maid?” “She is not a maid. I'm very fond of her and her father.” “Not that I mind your charity work, Dad. But we are one of the richest families in Italy. Strange that you want to marry your heir to a maid.”

She asked. "It is Italian and it means my daughter," I answered her and she beamed. "I like it. Will you teach me Italian, Daddy?" She asked. "Anything you want, mia figlia," I answered her. "How do you say daddy in Italian?" She asked. "Papa," I answered her. "Okay, papa." I wanted to laugh at her cuteness but it has been so long since I did laugh that I do not know if I even remember how to laugh anymore.

“Sì?” She cocked her head to the side as she repeated what he said. “What’s ‘sì’?” “It’s ‘yes’ in Italian.” “Italian? You're Italian?” “Yes. I am from Italy. You are also Italian.” He stated. “I am? But I’m not from Italy; I'm from Devnia.” The little girl corrected. “Am I Italian, too?” Her brother asked, and he chuckled. “Yes. Half. Both of you are half Italian.” “And mum, is she Italian too?”

As much as I like to call her little princess or piccolo (little one in Italian), It's my duty to pronounce my daughter's name well. ************ Anupama's POV:- I am feeling quite nervous because it's my first time cooking Italian food. I used to watch a lot of videos of cooking back in Kolkata so I am very familiar with different types of cuisines around the world but when I have gotten the chance to make something in Italian, I don't want to disappoint Mama Melody or Mr. Bianchi.