Life of a Donna

Chapter Two

It was a few hours later when an officer woke me. I jerked awake, my heart racing as I looked around in alarm. The same man who had told me about my dad and brothers stood before me, but this time, there were three others with him. I hesitated, my eyes darting between their unfamiliar faces. The officer offered his hand, and after a moment, I slowly accepted, letting him help me to my feet. My body felt stiff, my movements cautious to avoid suspicion as I stood, my gaze never leaving the strangers.

“Bernadette,” the officer began, his voice steady but gentle, “this is Romiro Locatelli, your dad.” He gestured to the man standing closest to him. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at him, searching for something familiar, something that I might recognize.

The officer continued, pointing to the two younger men beside him. “With him is Edward Locatelli, your eldest brother.” Edward was broad-shouldered and serious, his eyes scanning me with a mix of curiosity and something I couldn’t quite place. “And Isaiah Locatelli, your second-eldest brother.” Isaiah was leaner, his expression softer, but there was a tension in his posture that mirrored Edward’s.

I stood frozen, my mind struggling to process what was happening. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. So I stayed silent, my eyes darting between them, trying to read their faces, their body language, anything that might give me a clue about what to expect.

“Bernadette,” Ramiro began, his voice warm but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe, or relief. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. We have been looking for you for a very long time.”

His words hit me like a wave, leaving me breathless. They’d been looking for me. All this time, I’d thought I was alone, an orphan with no ties to anyone. But now, standing before me, was a man who claimed to be my father and two brothers who shared my blood.

“There is quite a story to go along with how you ended up in this situation instead of with your family,” he continued, his tone softening. “But that can wait. For now, let’s focus on getting you home.”

He turned to the officer, his demeanor shifting to one of authority. “Thank you, officer. If all the paperwork is signed, we would like to start making our way home.”

Home. The word echoed in my mind, stirring a mix of emotions I couldn’t untangle. Hope, fear, curiosity, and a deep, aching uncertainty. What would home look like now? I did not know. But as I stood there, surrounded by these strangers who were somehow my family, I realized I had no choice but to find out. The officer shook hands with my dad and brothers, exchanging a few quiet words before they turned and headed for the exit. I hesitated for a moment, feeling small and out of place as I followed behind them. They were all so tall, so imposing, their presence commanding and unfamiliar.

When we reached their car—a sleek, luxurious vehicle that seemed worlds away from anything I’d ever known—I paused, unsure of where to sit or how to act. My dad opened the door for me, gesturing for me to climb in, and I did so quietly, sliding into the backseat, behind the driver's seat. Edward and Isaiah took their places, one in the front and the other in the back with me, their movements practiced and effortless, while my dad settled into the driver’s seat.

“Mr. Locatelli,” I began, my voice steady despite the nerves churning in my stomach. “I am pleased to meet you and my brothers. But there is something you should know.” I paused, gathering my thoughts, my gaze steady as I met his eyes in the mirror. “I have led a life where I have had to take care of myself. I will try to respect you, and I will do my best to fit into your family, but I hope you understand that I will be… different to most fifteen-year-olds. I need you to respect that.”

The car fell silent, the weight of my words hanging in the air. My dad glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable but attentive. Edward and Isaiah exchanged a look, their curiosity piqued.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for their reaction. “I have already graduated from high school and university,” I continued, my tone matter-of-fact. “I have my master’s in business, my PhD in psychology and medicine, and next week are finals for what will hopefully be a master’s in engineering. I am taking that online” I said, my voice becoming quieter towards the end but no less firm.

“Apart from now, where I feel it is necessary to be talking so much, I do not like talking. I will say this finally: there are details that I will eventually tell you, but you need to let me come to you. You do need to know—I acknowledge that—but it will be on my terms, and when I am ready.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of my words settling over us like a heavy fog. My dad’s hands tightened on the steering wheel; his expression thoughtful but unreadable. Edward turned in his seat to look at me, his eyebrows raised, eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. Isaiah let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re… fifteen?” Edward asked, his voice tinged with awe.

“What’s your IQ?” Isaiah said with fascination.

“Yes and 180” I replied simply, my gaze unwavering. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But this is who I am. I’ve worked hard, and I do not plan on stopping. I just… I need you to understand that.” I paused, letting my words register before I hit them with what I had to say next.

“My IQ has been assessed and, by most standards, it means I am classified as a genius. As for my future, I have always been someone who works, and I would like to continue doing so. Ideally, I would love to put my degrees to use, though I understand that most companies wouldn’t hire a fifteen-year-old. I also want to make it clear that I am familiar with the name Locatelli—and, if the papers are to be believed, I have a good idea of what you do. However, just as I have my own story, I know you have yours too. Until we are ready to share those stories, I am happy to believe that you are the most successful business entrepreneur of this century.”

My dad was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile that was equal parts pride and something softer, something I could not quite name.

“Bernadette,” he said finally, his voice warm but firm, “you are clearly an extraordinary young woman. We will respect your independence, and we will support you in whatever way we can. But remember this: you are not alone anymore. You have a family now, and we are here for you.” His words settled over me like a blanket, comforting but unfamiliar. I nodded, unsure of how to respond.

He paused before he added “we understand that you have been through more than anyone should have to endure, and we respect your need for space, for control. We will not push you. But know this: when you are ready to talk, we will be here to listen. No judgment, no pressure. Just family. We do not want you to worry about what they say about us in the media, just get to know your family and, like you said, when the time is right, we can share our own stories.”

His words were a balm to the raw edges of my emotions, but they also stirred something deep inside me—something I have not felt in a long time. Trust. Or at least, the possibility of it. I nodded, my gaze dropping to my hands, which were clenched tightly in my lap. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. It was all I could manage, but it was enough.

As the car carried us further away from my old life and toward whatever lay ahead, I could not help but wonder what this new chapter would bring. I felt a small, tentative sense of relief. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t completely alone. And while I wasn’t ready to let my guard down completely, I knew that, someday, I might be.

The Plane

We were at the airport but heading towards a private bunker. I could not believe it. When the officer mentioned it would take a few hours, I assumed he meant they were driving, not flying. To be honest, I was excited. The idea of boarding a private jet was thrilling, but nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see.

As we came to a stop, I glanced out the window, and my jaw dropped. Their private jet was not the sleek, compact aircraft I had imagined. It was massive. It's more like a passenger carrier than a luxury jet. My excitement surged, mixed with a hint of disbelief. What kind of person requires a jet this size? And what was I heading into?

I turned to face my dad and brothers, their expressions a mix of amusement and restraint as they took in my stunned reaction.

“It’s a customized jet,” Dad said matter-of-factly. “Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a mini lounge area. What did you expect? With ten sons, a wife, and a business that spans the globe, I need something this size.” His tone was calm, almost dismissive, as if the grandeur of the jet was nothing out of the ordinary. My brothers exchanged glances, their smirks barely concealed, but no one dared to laugh.

I guess my expression might have been funny. If this was not such a shocking situation for me. Without waiting for the driver, I was the first out of the car, up the steps and onto the plane. But once inside, I froze, completely stunned. It all felt so unreal. The mini-lounge was at the front, with seating arranged behind it, followed by the three bedrooms. I stood next to one of the two bathrooms, taking it all in. It was luxurious, no doubt, just the right balance of elegance and practicality. I loved it.

I took a seat in the designated area and buckled in. My brothers settled into the row behind me, while my dad sat nearby, leaving an empty seat between us—something I was quietly grateful for. The pilot went through the pre-flight routine, the flight attendant did her part, and before I knew it, we were airborne.

Once we reached cruising altitude, Dad, Edward, and Isaiah moved to sit in the mini-lounge, their voices low as they discussed what I could only assume was business. I lingered for a moment, watching them from a distance, before slipping away to explore the rest of the plane. The bedrooms were spacious and when I stepped into the bathroom, I froze at the sight of the shower.

The water running over my skin earlier that morning had felt like it would never be enough to wash away what had happened. I splashed cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked hollow, my face pale. I did not recognize myself anymore. I was not sure that I ever would. I rejoined the family, forcing myself to sit calmly. My hands trembled slightly, and I clasped them together to keep them still.

“Bernadette,” Dad said, his voice pulling me back to the present. “I have decided to tell you some truths now so you are prepared when we land.”

I nodded; my throat was too tight to speak. The weight of the last 24 hours pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket. The assault. The shock of discovering this family. The jet. The luxury. It was all too much. As Dad began to speak, I forced myself to focus. I was here, physically, but a part of me felt like it was still trapped in that room, unable to move.

“You were right,” Dad said, his voice steady but firm. “We are what most of the world would call a mafia. We are one of the leading families under the Don. While we do not run it, we are high up. I am telling you this because our house sees a lot of activity. It is the main hub where our family conducts business. That means when you are in the house, you need to conduct yourself respectfully. Something goes wrong, and it will not matter if you are my daughter or not,” Dad took a breath before continuing with his tone hardening.

“Having said that, it also means you are protected. If something happens, you will be safe. We have guards around the perimeter and close to the house, and you will have a protection detail. Our offices are on the fourth floor, and unless it’s important, I would like you to stay away. I do not want you involved in this aspect of family life. I need you safe.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. I stared at him, my mind struggling to process what he was saying. Protected? Safe? The irony burned in my chest. I did not feel safe. Not after what had happened. Not after the way the world had shattered around me in a single night. And now, this—this life of guards and secrets and rules. It was not safe.

When dad paused, I seized the moment to speak, my voice trembling despite my efforts to steady it. “I…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say. “I understand.” I said, my voice steady despite the storm churning inside me. How could I explain? The fear, the anger, the shame? How could I tell him that no guards or protection details could make me feel safe again?

“Bernadette,” he said softly, “I know this is a lot. But you are part of this family now. I need you to understand the seriousness. You are new, but you will not be given any leniency.”

I nodded again, my voice barely a whisper. “I understand, promise.”

I knew I needed to take this moment and be brave. It was now or never to spill something that hopefully changed how they perceived me. “Thank you for telling me. However, I do know how to kickbox and some karate, so I do not need to have too much security. How about one driver who doubles as security and one more who will be my main protection? I do not go out much, so I doubt there is a need for much security.”

The room fell silent. I could feel their eyes on me, their expressions a mix of surprise and disbelief. Dad’s eyebrows shot up, Edward leaned forward in his seat, and Isaiah’s mouth hung slightly open. It was almost satisfying to see them caught off guard, even if only for a moment. Dad recovered first, his lips curving into a faint smile.