Where have you been?
POV: Elena
The commotion in the house with the arrival of Fernando Valentini is enormous.
Grandma cries as she hugs my father after Leonardo leaves him. The other boys can't hide their discomfort at our father's return.
"I missed you, my son," says Grandma in tears.
"It's okay now, Mom," my father calms her down, "I'm home now."
I don't approach him or say a word.
While everyone hugs and talks, I avoid any attention and go to the opposite corner of the room.
My head is processing too much information at the same time and I feel like I'm going to freak out if I don't get out of here.
But, like everyone else, I want to know why he left, why he disappeared for eight years and abandoned his family.
When the atmosphere calms down, everyone sits down, except him, of course.
He stops in the middle of the room and looks for me. When he finds me, he starts to approach, but Lorenzo steps in front of him and stops him.
My relationship with my other parents was not the best and until I meet this man, I will keep my barriers up.
"When Elena is ready, she will talk to you," Lorenzo says coldly.
My father nods and walks away with a hurt expression.
"Then you can start whenever you want," Luca says and leans on the couch waiting for an explanation from my father.
He looks at me and then at the others.
"Elena stays, she should hear the story too," Aunt Esther says.
We all stay silent looking at him.
"As you all know, eight years ago I received a tip about where Jocellyn could be with the girls," he begins and everyone nods "The tip took me to Paraguay and from there to the United States."
"How?" Giorgio asks wanting details.
I see my father look at him and smile in recognition.
"In Paraguay, I met a member of the local drug trade who forged documents. He told me that he had received a demand from Jocellyn and two other children when they left after the divorce."
"All of this led me to the United States, where I met the head of the American mafia, Jorge Sinclair," he says. "At first, he was helpful and helped me, but then his middle son got involved in my search."
My father looks at me with regret.
"He seemed obsessed with the twins and wanted to know everything that had happened, until one day I received a report that Jocellyn had been seen in a nearby neighborhood. We went there, and the information was true, but when I was about to rescue the girls, he stabbed me in the back."
"Are you trying to tell us you were held hostage by the American mafia for eight years?" Lorenzo asks doubtfully.
"I can prove it," my father says, lifting his shirt. Torture marks tear his skin, and my hands tremble.
They look like mine, almost identical.
"You were arrested because of me?" I ask quietly.
"That was one of many reasons, but here in Italy, the Americans couldn't conduct their business, and having me as a hostage could be a great bargaining chip, in addition to obtaining information."
"And how did you manage to get here?" Giovanni asks.
"I managed to escape," he says, and the boys look at him, waiting for an explanation. "After years, you learn the dynamics of the place, and even with the rotation of the guards, they always follow a pattern. A week ago, something happened and it changed."
Around the same time Eloisa and I moved here. I don't believe in coincidences.
"They were agitated, and then I took advantage of a security breach and escaped," he says simply, and the others nod, understanding that he doesn't want to share the gory details of the escape.
"I believe you," Vicente says, looking at the twins.
Giovanni and Giorgio agree.
"We also trust the story," Giorgio says.
I realize this means my father might be returning to his family. That his story might be true.
"And where is Eloisa?" my father asks, and everyone's faces darken.
I decide it's a good time to go to my room.
"We'll finish our conversation later, Elena," Lorenzo says seriously.
I roll my eyes and leave the living room to let the adults talk.
I go up to my room, my head pounding.
My father was kidnapped while searching for Eloisa and me, especially by the American mafia.
By Chris's family.
How could someone who seemed so kind be part of a family of monsters?
I close my bedroom door and go into the bathroom. I grab my razor and check the door is locked before pressing it against my arm.
The pain of each cut I make lessens my anxiety, calming the storm in my chest, making me feel lighter.
My mind finally clears when I make the fifth cut on my arm.
I lean my head against the wall and only realize I'm crying when a tear falls onto my arm, mixing with the blood.
I allow myself to cry, allow all the tension that's built up in my chest to escape.
I don't know how much time passes, but I return to the real world when someone knocks on the door.
I get up quickly and feel the blood loss as I get a little dizzy.
I clean my arm and wash my face, make sure to put on a long-sleeved shirt to cover the cuts, and walk calmly to the door.
Lorenzo is standing next to Vicente in the doorway.
"We need to talk, Sorellina," Vicente says seriously.
I open the door wider for them both to enter.
I sit on the bed while they each pull up a chair to sit across from me.
"Is everything okay?" Vicente asks, noticing my puffy eyes.
"And do you really care?" I ask coldly.
I haven't forgotten everything that happened before my father arrived in this house.
"Elena, we're just here to talk," Vicente says, trying to calm my temper.
"I'm listening," I say dismissively.
"We need to talk about the Sinclars," Lorenzo says, and I swallow hard.