She's his daughter

She's his daughter

~ KAIA'S POV ~

“You?” The word slips out of my mouth before I can even stop it, trembling with disbelief.

She came in with Vittorio that day, so of course they know each other. My mind races, but my heart…oh, my heart…blooms with overwhelming joy the moment my eyes confirm she isn’t hurt. Relief pours into my chest like a flood after a storm.

Before I can even blink, she runs into my arms and squeezes me with everything she has, clinging to me as though letting go would make me vanish.

“Thank you,” she sobs, her body trembling against mine.

I wrap my good arm around her, my palm gently patting her soft hair, the way you calm a frightened child. Her scent, faint and innocent, mixes with the salt of her tears.

“It’s okay, dear. Please, don’t cry,” I murmur, my voice as tender as I can manage, even though emotion chokes my throat.

She lifts her head slowly, her lashes wet, her cheeks streaked with tears, and her eyes lock with mine. There’s such raw, vulnerable emotion in them that it pierces me.

“You’re hurt,” she whispers, almost too softly for anyone else to hear, but the words cut straight into me.

Her gaze drops to my injured arm, wrapped and held in the sling. When she sees it, her tears come harder, her small shoulders shaking with guilt and grief.

“No, no, don’t cry,” I say quickly, forcing a smile through the sting in my chest. “You’ll make me cry too.”

“But you’re hurt,” she repeats, her voice breaking into pieces.

“Yes, I am. But I’m fine,” I assure her, though we both know the wound still aches. My tone is gentle, firm, like a promise I refuse to let her doubt.

I lift my good hand and stroke her hair again, brushing away the hot tears on her face with my thumb. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, her sobs slowing just a little.

“It’s in the past now. Please… don’t cry anymore.” My plea comes out softer than a whisper.

She nods slowly, though her tears still glisten like jewels on her lashes, and then she folds herself back against me in another embrace, as though seeking safety in my arms.

When I lift my eyes, they immediately find Vittorio. He’s watching us both intently, his gaze unreadable but heavy, like a storm building in the silence.

“Please… come sit beside me,” the girl says, her voice still thick with tears.

“Sure,” I reply gently. I ease myself beside her, careful with my arm, but my heart warms at the way she scoots close, unwilling to let me drift far.

“You’re Eirlys. The same woman who saved my Mira,” Giovanni’s deep voice cuts in as I sit.

I smile softly.

Vittorio looks stunned, his expression betraying a flicker of surprise, but I keep quiet. I simply sit, folded in the silence, letting the moment breathe.

“Thank you for saving my Stellina… and my beloved Mira,” Giovanni says, his voice carrying weight, gratitude, and something deeper.

I smile softly, a small gesture, but it feels like sunlight in a dim room.

“Cumpà, how did you find out?” Giovanni asks Vittorio, his tone curious yet steady.

“I saved her that day, from being run over by the horses in the race,” Vittorio says, his voice measured but tinged with memory.

The girl’s eyes widen in shock.

“I rushed her to the hospital after ensuring Elena was safe, right after carrying her from the barn where she landed,” Vittorio adds.

So that’s her name… Elena.

“A lot happened that day,” Giovanni murmurs, as if recalling his own wounds from it.

“You fell from that floor to the tracks because of me,” Elena blurts, her voice raw, shaking with guilt. Tears slip down her face again, uncontrollable.

“No. It’s not your fault. I just wasn’t fast enough,” I say firmly, shaking my head.

“I slowed you down, and you got shot right after saving me!” she cries harder, her voice breaking into a sob that stabs through my chest.

Giovanni places a comforting hand on her back, trying to soothe her in his calm, paternal way.

“No, you didn’t. Please, dear… don’t cry. I’m alive, aren’t I?” My voice is desperate now, trying to anchor her, to pull her back from drowning in guilt.

Elena sniffs, nodding through her tears, and wipes her face with trembling hands.

“Thank you, Vittorio, once again… for saving me,” I say, turning to him. My voice carries gratitude, quiet but sincere.

Vittorio only nods, his gaze steady but unreadable.

“Eirlys will be staying here with us until we find those men, and the mastermind behind it,” Vittorio announces, his tone iron-clad.

Elena’s eyes light up, joy sparking through her sadness at his words.

“Thank you,” she breathes to Vittorio, her tears shimmering again.

Vittorio’s eyes widen briefly, just a flicker, before he turns his gaze to me.

“Thank you so much, Eirlys. You truly are a life saver, as Mira says,” Giovanni says, his voice filled with gravity and warmth.

Elena suddenly asks, her voice fragile, “What did you save my aunt Mira from?”

The room goes quiet for a heartbeat. I swallow, but I don’t hide the truth.

“She… was at the verge of taking her life back then,” I say softly.

Elena’s eyes go wide, her lips parting, her tears threatening once more.

“My aunt Mira?” she whispers, then sobs again, clutching at her chest as though the words wound her deeply.

Oh… she is a crybaby. A fragile heart wrapped in tears.

“Yes. She was depressed back then,” Giovanni says, his tone grave, “and thank goodness Eirlys showed up in time.”

“Thank you, Eirlys. Thank you for saving my teruso,” Vittorio says, his voice lower, heavier, as though each word carries his soul.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. Your safety is paramount to me… as you saved my daughter,” he adds, his eyes unwavering on me.

She's his daughter?

Oh that's a hit.

One act of being humane gets him right to the heart of Vittorio—his daughter.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my chest tightening, overwhelmed by the sincerity and of course, he just gave me more access to get this task done.

“Enough emotions,” Giovanni breaks in, his cheer returning like sunlight cutting through clouds. “Let’s dig in.”

The heaviness in the air lightens, though emotions still ripple beneath the surface.

“Eirlys…” Giovanni says again, his eyes locking with mine, his voice almost reverent. “I must say… you’re beautiful at heart. Angelic.”

The words sink into me like a balm and a blade all at once, leaving me both humbled and trembling inside.