A Christmas treaty: A Mafia Holiday Miracle

Isabella sat on a leather chair in the glass conservatory, her slender fingers playing with the beads of her rosary and her lips whispered silent prayers. The garden felt serene and warm, shielding her from the cold outside, but even with the soft lighting, her long wool coat and the warmth the garden exuded, she still felt cold — the type that felt like loneliness. A few days ago, she was at the church with the kids in the orphanage as they prepared for the only day she had deemed special in the whole year — Christmas, but in a blink of an eye she was adopted by the De Santis, one of the most feared mafia families in Sicily. A bitter-sweet smile graced her lips as memories of how she had begged sister Francesca flooded her mind, but sister Francesca had given her up without batting an eye. “Signorina Isabella, your mother, requests your presence,” the maid's voice called softly, pulling Isabella out of her thoughts. Isabella quickly wiped the tears she didn’t know were falling from her eyes, and nodded in reply. It was funny how God gave her a life she never wished for, but she had been taught in the church never to doubt God's intentions, and she promised to always have faith in him. She walked out of the glass conservatory, and she was hit by a cold wind. Although she was sad, and didn’t like it here, she didn’t fail to appreciate the decor of the De Santis mansion. It was exquisite in its own unique way. The maid escorted her to the living room, where she saw Maria De Santis sitting with effortless grace. “Good morning Donna,” Isabella said, her head low, she still couldn’t bring herself to look her in the eye. “La mia bambina, I’ve told you to drop the formalities,” she massaged her temple as she spoke. “From now on you call me mamma,” she added sweetly. Isabella bit her lips, then her cheek muscle twitched into a forced smile, “Yes mamma.” “Better. Your father and I have something we would like to discuss with you.” Just as she said that, a figure walked in — Roberto De Santis, the man who would forever be tagged as her father. The De Santis didn’t look like the horrible monsters people described them to be, they looked quite the opposite, but Isabella knew these people were feared because they thrive on bloodshed. They were sinners that would run back to God and still take lives without batting an eye. “Good morning, Don—” “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Isabella’s words were cut off by Roberto’s tsk. Isabella knew what the tsks were for. She took a deep breath, and cleared her throat, “Good morning papa.” “Sit Isabella,” his deep voice sounded, making a chill run down her spine. She obeyed without a second thought. He signaled with his fingers, and a man walked up to her. He seemed like a butler. At least that was what she thought. He tapped the screen of the pad he held, and the screen lit up with a video. Isabella’s brows furrowed, she didn’t understand what was happening. She had seen this particular video on the news, but she didn’t think much about it. Suddenly it all came rushing to her. The video was about a car accident, and the victim of the accident was the daughter of the De Santis, who had never been shown to the public. Isabella turned to Roberto with a questioning gaze, and his lips curved into a cruel smile that gave her goosebumps. “Your daughter, Isabella, was in that accident,” she began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. She hadn’t thought about it, but it felt weird as her and the De Santis daughter’s name were the same. “Yes Isabella, she was.” Maria responded. “But…why haven’t I seen her? You said she survived, and the accident was planned by De Luca, right?” Thousands of questions were reeling through her mind, but these questions were the only ones she could muster the courage to ask. She was still scared of them. Roberto cleared his throat, “You’re right Isabella, Antonio De Luca planned a car accident to murder Isabella just when she was about to make her first public appearance, but she survived. Sadly, she was diagnosed with long-term amnesia.” Isabella was sure no one knew what the De Santis heiress looked like, so she was curious as to why she hadn’t seen her. “So where is she? If I may ask.” “She’s sitting right in front of me,” Roberto voiced. Isabella felt her heart drop. Although the house was warm, she felt a certain cold run down her spine. “W—What?” “Don’t you get it? You are Isabella. You were in an accident, and you were diagnosed with long-term amnesia,” Maria inserted. Isabella’s pulse quickened as their words echoed in her head. She wasn’t their daughter, she had been in the orphanage all her life before they adopted her, unless, “It was all a lie —” she muttered, “You never had an heir,” her voice turned cold. She turned sharply to them, unadulterated rage filled her eyes, “So why did you adopt me?” her voice rose a little as she spoke. Everything they said didn’t make sense to her, but what scared her was the fact that everything about her and their fake heiress was terrifyingly accurate. “I adopted you because you are the key to my revenge,” Maria said. “What revenge?” Isabella's voice trembled as she spoke. “That’s all you need to know, Isabella,” Roberto said, then stood up and left. Maria walked to where she sat and patted her head gently, "We’re going to the council members for a verdict on your accident. Make sure you are at your best behavior," her voice came soft, a reassuring smile graced her lips as she cupped Isabella’s face in her palm, “Remember la mia bambina, you were diagnosed with long-term anemia.” Isabella shook her head, they wanted her to lie, but lying was a sin she would never commit no matter what. She pushed Maria’s hand from her face and ran out. A guard wanted to go after her, but Maria stopped him. “No, don't chase after her.” “What if she tries to escape?” the guard asked. “Then let her.” Maria said, then left. ***** Isabella paced back and forth in her room. She had cried a lot, but the tears ceased when a plan to escape crossed her mind. She planned to go to the orphanage and tell them everything; they might be able to help. She fell to her knees, clutching her rosary desperately. “Santa Madre, proteggimi,”(Holy Mother, protect me) were the only words that escaped her lips, as she began praying desperately for Mother Mary's intervention and protection. Night came fast, and she had to put her plan into action. Surprisingly, everything went smoothly. She was able to dodge the guards, and before she knew it, she was out of the mansion. She felt overjoyed she knew Mother Mary would intercede. A smile washed over her face as the chilly salty air hit her, she felt free once again. She took onto her heels into the streets of Palermo, and she was flabbergasted by the beautiful scenery. They were never allowed to be out by this time in the orphanage; they were always under the supervision of sister Francesca, but seeing the beautiful warm lighting made her wonder if she really had no desire. The scent of buccellato filled her nostrils as she got close to a bakery shop. She paused at the shop window when she saw the displayed presepe. The miniature stone carved house glowed softly with the miniature figurines frozen mid-step in the manger all waiting for the arrival of baby Jesus — who would be placed there on Christmas Eve. She giggled as memories of how her and the other kids had built the presepe at the church began flooding her mind. A few minutes later, she got to the church and ran to where she knew Sister Francesca would be. When she got in, the sight before her almost made her lose her step. “Suor Francesca,” she called with a trembling voice. Francesca was gagged and tied to a chair, and tears trickled down her cheeks. A figure stepped out of the shadows; it was Maria. Isabella stared with shock, so this was why they made her escape easy. Maria walked over to Francesca and tore the tape from her mouth. “Please, Isabella, go with them. I know things might seem out of place now, but remember whatever may happen, I always want you to trust in God, and —” "No, I won't go. Never." Isabella’s voice echoed through the walls, cutting sister Francesca’s words short. Maria signaled her men, and instantly they pulled out their guns aiming at Francesca. “One word from you decides the fate of everyone in this orphanage, Isabella, so choose wisely.” Isabella’s pulse accelerated, this was totally wrong. She couldn’t understand what these people wanted from her, but she had no plans to give in to their demands. Francesca knew Isabella was stubborn, she knew Isabella wouldn’t give in. Isabella’s lips parted to speak, but suor Francesca beat her to it. "Leave Isabella. You do not belong here and you never will. I’ve never trained you to be selfish, so please...leave." Tears streamed down her face as she screamed every word at Isabella.