CHAPTER 1

FIORELLA CARLA SCHIAVONE

"Why is it like this!?"

My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath, every gasp a reminder of my exhaustion. Sweat drenched my forehead and neck, trickling down the side of my face in relentless streams. My cheeks were damp with tears that hadn't yet dried, only to be joined by fresh ones as the words sank in.

"Maybe there was a mistake during the check-up, Capo."

"A girl? I thought it was supposed to be a boy?"

I wanted to speak, to defend myself, but my voice betrayed me. My lips parted, yet no sound emerged. Fear tightened its grip around me. Why? Why couldn't I protect myself from them?

"This is bullshit!"

My eyes grew hazy as I gazed toward the edge of the soft bed where I lay. Two men with indistinct faces stood before me, cradling a baby in their arms. Each time I closed my eyes, my vision blurred further, slipping away like a fading dream. Slowly, my right hand rose, as if yearning to touch the baby nestled in their embrace.

Give it to me... that's mine. Please... she's mine.

Those were the words I desperately wanted to say, but how? How could I speak them when I lacked the voice to do so?

A wave of exhaustion crashed over me, making it feel as though I was moments away from losing consciousness. I fought against it with everything I had, unwilling to surrender—not until I felt the baby in my arms. But no matter how fiercely I struggled, my strength was slipping away.

My eyelids grew heavier with every breath, but I refused to look away. My blurry gaze stayed fixed on the two figures standing at the foot of my bed, holding the crying baby. Its wails echoed through the four walls of my room, a haunting melody of desperation.

"You're wasting your time, Fiore! You've never been worth anything!"

Just before I completely lost consciousness and was swallowed by darkness, the deafening sound of a gunshot rang out. Hot tears streaked down the sides of my face, and then... silence. The sound of the baby's cries was gone.

Please, no... She's mine.

I gasped and jolted upright, my chest heaving as I woke to the sound of a loud clap of thunder outside the closed glass sliding door of my balcony. My hand flew to my chest, feeling the frantic pounding of my heart as the remnants of the dream lingered, vivid and haunting.

I let out a deep sigh and slowly got up from the bed. Reaching for the black silk robe draped over the white armchair, I put it on and moved to close the curtains over the glass sliding window, shielding myself from the faint flashes of lightning streaking across the cloudy, dark sky.

I paused for a moment, peeking through the glass to see what was happening outside my father's house. From there, I could clearly see some of his men scrambling to take shelter on the other side of my father's big mansion. The thunder had grown louder, and now heavy raindrops began to fall, carried by strong winds that I could feel rattling the glass door to my balcony.

I ignored it and returned to my bed, curling up with my knees pulled to my chest, staring blankly into the darkness of my room. The only source of light was the small lampshade sitting on the bedside table to my left, casting a soft, golden glow.

Three months had passed since I announced to my supporters that I was going to stop painting. My passion for it had vanished, leaving me feeling hollow and lost. Now, I spent most of my days locked in my room, doing little more than resting and hiding away from the world.

I blinked several times, my eyes adjusting to the dimness of my room, before I shifted to lie flat on my back, gazing at the pristine white ceiling above me. My fingers reached for the silver necklace resting against my chest, its personalized name pendant cool to the touch. Stella was engraved on it, accompanied by a small, delicate silver star that hung like a quiet reminder of something I couldn't quite grasp.

My Stella... I'm really sorry. My baby. I'm really sorry.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"It's really so nice to sunbathe this summer," I heard Ornella, my cousin, say. She was lying on a pool lounge chair, the lower part of the chair she was lying on already submerged in the water. Her black Dior sunglasses were resting over her eyes.

I turned to look at her, smiled, and set my Shirley Temple on a small table placed between the pool lounge chairs we were sitting on.

We were currently in the large luxury patio pool area of my father's mansion. When Ornella visited me here, we both decided to spend time in the luxury pool area. I agreed with her, instead of staying cooped up in my room. She rarely visits here, and she also wanted to get a tan, and I decided to accompany her.

As I watched her lying on the pool lounge chair, I couldn't help but feel a little envious. Why is it that her skin turns tan when she basks in the sun, while mine just gets red? I could clearly see her skin turning brown, almost shimmering under the intense sunlight, especially with her hot pink skimpy bikini.

She must have noticed me staring, because she turned to look at me. She sat up from her lounge chair and placed her Dior sunglasses on her head.

"Why? What's up, Fiore?" She asked. "I know what you're thinking. You're still beautiful, even with your skin turning red," she teased, laughing.

I shot her an annoyed look and pouted, crossing my arms. I leaned back against my chair and quickly glanced at her. I saw her pouting too, her gaze lowered as she looked at me.

"Don't be jealous, Fiore. If you only knew, I'm envious of you too. What's the point of my breasts compared to your bigger ones? It would be embarrassing if I bumped into you—like I'd be the one to fly off because of your breasts," she said to me.

I couldn't believe it. I felt my face heat up, and I knew my cheeks were flushed from it. I sat up from my position before responding to what she had said.

"You're crazy! Even though your breasts aren't that big, it's fine. It suits you like that. You can move easily, and you won't have trouble finding clothes," I signed to her. I didn't even need to type what I wanted to say because Ornella understands sign language, so I just quickly showed or expressed what I wanted to tell her.

I think I blushed even more when she flashed me a grin. Even though I was wearing a purple one-piece bikini with cuts on both sides, I knew my breasts were still noticeable. They might be covered, but they were still obvious.

She blew out a breath, and her mood seemed to shift as her expression changed when she lay back down on the pool lounge chair. I shook my head when I saw her pinch her chest before she glanced at me.

"Do you think I should get breast implants?" She asked.

I shrugged. "That's something you should decide, not me, Ornella. If you want to get them, then go ahead. I'll be here for moral support," I gestured while looking at her.

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes. "Never mind. I've grown too attached to my breasts," she said, lowering her head as she held her chest. "Mommy loves you guys so much, even if you're small. Don't worry, you'll grow when someone starts to massage you—"

I splashed her with water from the pool to stop her while widening my eyes at her.

"You're crazy!" I signaled to her. But eventually, I laughed, and so did she.

We both laughed together, and we stayed under the sun for a few more minutes before submerging ourselves in the water one last time. Afterward, we went out to rinse off in the bathroom of my room.

"It's so annoying. I really don't like these tan lines. If I could, I'd be sunbathing completely naked in your pool area," I heard her complain.

I grabbed the white bathrobe hanging by the side of the glass door in the shower room and walked toward her. She was standing in front of the large mirror, the wide white sink placed beneath it, and was observing the tan lines on her body, wearing nothing but her skin.

"It looks fine. But you can't do that. You know my father's men roam around the compound. They might be shocked to see you without clothes," I signaled to her as I approached.

Our place has a large compound because the Schiavone clan works under the Camorra. Since there are many men working under my father, he had this compound built where everyone who works for him stays.

There's a big area on the other side of the compound where his henchmen reside. As for the cooking, it's done inside the mansion, where my father hired a private chef to prepare our meals every day.

"We can just tell them not to go to the pool area when we're together," she replied to me, putting on the white bathrobe that was draped over the sink.

"I'll try to tell them next time," I smiled and signaled to her.

I heard her muffled squeal, and she suddenly hugged me. I smiled and hugged her back. Afterward, we headed to my walk-in closet to get dressed. We immediately went to my soft and large Victorian white canopy bed with gold linings and designs. We lay down and talked about other things.

I feel more comfortable with Ornella because, aside from understanding my sign language, our conversations just flow easily.

"I heard there's a party tomorrow—"

"Fiore? Come out here."

Both Ornella and I froze mid-conversation when we heard my father's voice from outside my closed door. I quickly stood up, straightened myself, and opened the door for him.

His brow furrowed when he saw me standing in front of him. I lowered my head and avoided his gaze.

"Follow me," he said seriously.

I just followed him until we reached his office. He walked straight to the black couch, grabbed a big brown box, and handed it to me. I held it to my chest because it seemed like he gave it to me reluctantly.

"Take this. You need to wear this tomorrow because we have to go somewhere. The Don of Cosa Nostra will be there, so you need to be with us. Do you understand?" he asked me.

I avoided looking at him, but even then, I could feel his gaze on me.

"Fiorella Carla," my father called my name firmly.

At that, I slowly looked up at him and nodded, unable to sign since I was holding the brown box. I could feel my heart slowly pounding, and my hands holding the box were getting sweaty.

"Good. I don't want to repeat myself. You're not stupid, so don't do that."

I quickly placed the box on the couch and signed in front of him to ask a question.

"I just want to know, where are we going?"

He turned his back to me and walked to his black leather swivel chair. Before he could sit down, I already heard his answer.

"To the Don of Cosa Nostra's mansion. In Sicily."

SHANGPU