Aliona Lucia Vasilisa Monti Mikhailov, once an innocent five-year-old princess of the Monti family, is now the Donna of the Russian mafia and wife to Amir and Axton Mikhailov. Kidnapped as a child and shaped into a ruthless assassin, she has grown i...
Then, unexpectedly, Papà put his hands on his hips. "Aliona Lucia Monti! Where have you been?" he demands, his voice laced with a hint of frustration in Italian.
"Seriously, was my full name necessary?" I reply back, more annoyed than shocked.
"I think it was necessary after you only showed up, now." Papà retaliates back but switches to English.
"Ok. I do deserve that." I admit, acknowledging my Papà's point.
"Now, where have you been, young lady?" He presses on, wanting to know where the hell I have been.
"That's not a simple question." I cheekily smile while scratching the top of my head.
To prevent my brothers or Papà from questioning me about what happened when Danilo Ribeiro took me. So, I fabricated a story about having an accident at eight years old while learning to ride a bike. I claimed to have lost my memories but fortunately regained some of them, though not everything, only pieces, and everything else was blank.
"All I know is from what I have been told. I was adopted from Brazil by a Russian family with whom I have been living." I lie entirely through my teeth, but they got to understand what place I was in back then; I was no child but instead a weapon.
"Why come back now after all these years, Neonata (Baby-Girl)?" Papà inquired, his voice laced with concern and a hint of confusion. It was clear that my sudden return after such a long absence puzzled him and perhaps even worried him.
"A close friend of mine said do it now or avoid it forever." I lie, purposely, not wanting to explain, why I am here now out of all times...
Hearing a door slam, presumably the front door, from observing Papà's reaction. His calm demeanor and lack of movement toward his gun indicate that whoever is entering is not a threat.
"Give it back to me, Silvio!" a male voice shouts out in frustration in Italian.
"No way, I am giving it back!" another male voice responds back in Italian, but this time it is not as deep.
Papà sighs and shakes his head, confirming my suspicion that it's my brother's. "Boys, living room!" He yells out in English towards the entryway.
As my brothers enter the living room, I observe the changes in them since the last time we met. Silvio, the oldest triplet and fourth sibling, exudes a quiet strength and playfulness. Renato, the middle triplet and fifth child, maintains a blunt and straightforward demeanor, his icy precision cutting through the tension. Lotario, the youngest brother and sixth child, charms with his easy smile and friendly demeanor, reserved for family and trusted individuals.
"Father, who is this?" Silvio asks in Italian, his deep voice tinged with curiosity.
as he strides into the room, clad in faded blue jeans and a crisp black collared shirt.
"English, boys," Papà insists, his tone firm yet gentle.
"Aliona?" Renato questions, his sable brown eyes widening in disbelief as he takes in my presence.
"It can't be," Lotario mutters, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty.
"Sorella (Sister)?" Silvio queries, his tone uncertain but hopeful.
"It's been a while, fratelli (brothers)," I reply softly, noting the changes in their appearance since we last met. Renato's jet-black hair is slightly disheveled, and he has picked up the punk style. Lotario definitely looks older and has definitely developed muscles, but I still feel like he is a prankster. Silvio seems to have gotten much taller, standing over Lotario and Renato.
As I caught up with my brothers, I noticed how much had changed since we last saw each other. They had grown up, and maybe even girlfriends. The triplets were almost twenty-one, so it is doubtful that they were even married unlike me of course who got married at seventeen.
- Please Continue To Chapter Six -
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