5 Mafia Brothers and Their Lost Princess

Chapter 5

Xander

"I know my medicine, and there’s a month’s worth left for me. I’ll take care of myself, and you can visit me once I’m with them. Please go…"

Mirabella nodded at his words, and I cursed the little boy internally—how the hell did he manage to convince her when neither Dad nor I could? He glanced at me, and I swear there was a smug look in his eyes.

I looked at Dad, who was clearly fuming. I gently reached for his hand, and he gave me a glare to which I shook my head. He took a deep breath and finally spoke.

"Princess… How about we go now, and if you want, we can come back when his guardian arrives? We’ll ask them to let us visit him. Okay?"

She looked down sadly and nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief… Finally, she was coming with us.

They hugged tightly, and Dad walked her to the car while I stayed behind.

"Who took her photo?"

I asked, my tone icy as I slipped back into my usual cold demeanor. No way anyone should have her photo without permission.

An officer timidly raised his hand.

I took two powerful strides toward him and extended my palm.

"Phone."

He quickly handed it over. In seconds, I deleted the photo and smashed the phone against the ground. I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

"How dare you take her picture while she was sleeping? Be grateful I’m letting you live. You better use that time to find cover before we return."

I dropped him to the floor and began walking away, but then my eyes met with… Puto?

"You. Stay away from my sister!"

I warned coldly and turned away.

"Why not try keeping your sister away from me?"

I stopped, looking back at him.

"What…?"

"Why not try to keep your sister away from me? Let’s see if she actually does. I already gave her away. Let’s see if you can make her stay away…"

The pulse in my neck throbbed, and my jaw clenched tight. He was clearly provoking me—and enjoying it.

"She doesn’t need you."

"Of course, she doesn’t. But you guys? You’ll need me. You’ll come looking for me and bring me to her yourselves!"

Too much confidence for a seven-year-old.

"You’re my half-brother, aren’t you, bro? Enjoy the week I gave you all—that was my gift for our first meeting…"

I gritted my teeth and held back the urge to strike him. Punching a seven-year-old sick kid would be way beneath a Russo.

"We’ll see… Puto?"

"Peter. Peter De Vonn. Puto is reserved for people I value. You don’t even come last in the list."

He turned on his heel and walked back.

I wanted nothing more than to hang him from a hook, but the car honked. I turned and climbed in, and my mood lifted immediately—until I saw how far she sat from Dad, practically glued to the corner. His face looked grim. I frowned. Something was clearly going on between them.

Dad met my gaze as I took the front seat and sighed.

"Principessa? Do you want to eat something?"

He asked softly, unusually gentle for him—even when we were kids.

"Thank you, but no, Mr. Russo."

I turned back, shocked. Dad’s face soured even more, and he looked out the window. I saw the reflection of tears glistening in his eyes under the streetlights.

I remembered how happy he looked earlier when she called him Dad. So that’s what happened…

"Princess… That’s not what you call your dad. I know we just met, but he is your father."

She nodded, but said nothing. I sighed.

"Come on, Princess… If you’re upset because we didn’t bring Peter, we’re sorry. But you understand that’s illegal, right? Do you want us to go to jail, baby?"

I cooed gently, and her head shot up.

"No~~ It’s just…"

The way she said “no” so quickly meant she cared. Dad smiled faintly. She dropped her head again.

"He’s sick. He has a rare form of leukemia that can’t be cured. He might not live as long as us…"

Though the boy had just been a little jerk, my heart twisted at the news. Dad leaned in, listening.

We weren’t really paying attention to the story—but her voice was so soft, so sweet, we didn’t complain.

"Mom passed away when he was one. I’ve raised him since then, so I’m just too attached to let go. I promised Mom I’d always take care of him…"

Her words struck a chord. I’d made promises to Mom, too. Only… she wasn’t around to witness if I’d kept them.

I heard a soft sniffle—she was crying. Dad gently pulled her into his arms. That’s when it hit me—I hadn’t hugged her even once. But the way she flinched when Dad hugged her?

Something wasn’t right. I’ll ask her… when she’s ready.

Soon, the sniffles faded, and I heard her breathing—slow, harsh breaths. She had already fallen asleep against Dad’s chest.

We exchanged a confused look.

Her breathing… Something wasn’t right. Maybe it was the doctor in me being paranoid, but no healthy girl should be this pale and thin.

I made a mental note—check her thoroughly when we reached New York.

---

Alexander

As soon as we got into the car, she shifted away from me, hugging the corner of the backseat. That small gesture stung more than I expected.

I could tell—she was hurting. Probably because we didn’t bring Puto.

It's not like we couldn't.. Who the hell would stop the Italian mafia to do something? No one had the audacity.. But if didn't want him..

It's wrong to feel so cruel to a seven year old but the fact that he is Someone else's, is making my blood boil.. Also the authority he has on my daughter? The way Mirabella only listened to him? I hated it..

And I know that this kid is not a good influence just from the gaze he gave me.. It wasn't something a 7 year old would have.. I saw the unpleasantness in his eyes.. He didn't want us here.. He didn't want to let go of her.. But he did let go..

I'll probably arrange a better home for him but taking him in is like drinking poison knowing it's poison..

"Like I said, Princess… We’ll be back in a week, okay?"

She nodded but sank deeper into the seat.

I swear—I’ll find that Guardian and pay for every single necessity that boy needs. But I’ll make sure he stays away from her.

He isn’t normal. Seven-year-olds shouldn’t speak like that.

Maybe I’m just bitter… He’s from Isabella and another man.

The thought of her with someone else—doing the same things she did with me—made my insides burn.

She was never that kind of girl… or at least I thought so.

But none of that mattered now.

I have a daughter. My blood. She’s mine—and I’ll protect her, no matter what.

"Principessa? Are you okay?"

Of course, I felt it. The way she flinched when I touched her. Or when Xander approached her.

What the hell happened to her all these years?

I swear—I’ll find out. I’ll make whoever hurt her pay.

"Yes, Mr. Russo."

My stomach twisted, my eyes widened. Isabella?

How much did you influence her?

I remember how Isabella used to call me ‘Mr. Russo’ when she was pissed at me. But hearing it from my daughter felt like a slap.

"You don’t get to call me that!"

My voice came out harsher than I meant it to, and she jumped, eyes wide in horror before lowering her gaze.

I regretted it instantly.

I tried to calm down, but damn—I’d never reacted like that, not even with five boys.

"Why isn’t Xander back yet?!"

I barked at the driver. I needed him. He was better at calming her down than I was.

I signaled the driver to honk, and thankfully, Xander entered the car a few seconds later.

---

Present

I looked at Xander, confused by how quickly she’d fallen asleep in my arms.

Was it exhaustion? Or… was she that comfortable with me?

The second one felt too good to be true—but damn, I wanted to believe it.

"Dad…" Xander whispered.

"What’s happened to her all these years…?"

I had no answer—just the same question bouncing inside my chest.

She raised a child—a child—at the age of ten.

That thought alone was horrifying.

No matter how many children I had, I don’t think I could ever understand what she went through.

"What did you go through, my principessa?"