Chapter 3
1313 Words
Alexander Russo
I stood frozen as he said that. I looked at the caller ID again.
Yes, I dreamed of having a daughter, but I don't have one. I didn’t have one with my wife, and I f****d no woman pregnant. The vasectomy was successfully done after she was gone.
"I don't have a daughter. You got the wrong number!"
I was about to hang up, but he spoke again.
"Sir, is your wife's name Isabella Russo?"
I felt a pinch in my heart hearing her name. No one dared to speak it after she ran away 17 years ago.
"Yes..."
"Sir, she is the biological mother. She ran away when pregnant. I contacted the hospital—they confirmed she delivered the baby five months after going missing."
No. This couldn't be possible. Isabella wouldn't hide something like this. She knew how much I wanted a daughter. She knew.
"Send me her photo. And what's her name?"
"Sure, sir. Her name is Mirabella Alexander Russo."
I felt a pang as memories flashed back...
---
Flashback
We lay naked under the covers, her head resting on my chest as I played with her hair.
It was tough getting time with my wife after birthing the five little Satans we called sons.
"I hope it's a girl this time," I murmured.
She pinched my n****e and I squeaked in surprise.
"Alexander Russo! I'm signing you up for a vasectomy! You knock me up every two to three years!"
She was teasing, so I played along.
"Not until I get my princess. You think I raised those Satans for nothing?"
She slapped my chest and sat up, laughing.
"If we have a daughter... what would you name her?" I asked.
She thought for a long moment, then said,
"I want her to carry your name. Everyone should know whose daughter they’re dealing with."
I chuckled. My baby girl's name? It had to be a miracle—just like Isabella.
Mira... Bella...
"Mirabella," I whispered.
She smiled warmly.
"Mirabella Alexander Russo... our daughter."
---
Present
"Mirabella Alexander Russo," I whispered aloud.
I must have zoned out because the officer asked again, "Sir, are you there?"
"Yes," I rasped.My throat almost closing up on me..
"So, would you like to take her in, sir?"
I thought.. What if this is a trap set by someone and she is some spy.. What if all she wanted to do was to get in saying she is my daughter and give the ultimate betrayal?
But something in me shifted.. What if she is actually my daughter? The one I dreamed of once upon a time? And if I don't take her in, she has to live in other people's house.. I don't want that.. Not at all!
"Yes. I'll take her in. I'm coming from New York—have the paperwork ready."
The officer agreed, and I ended the call.
I stood there, devastated and betrayed.
Seventeen years.
Seventeen f*****g years of missing everything..Her first words, her first steps...When she went to school..On father's day..Does she know that she has a father? What story Isabella told her about me when she questioned about me? Did she tell her that I didn't exist? I'll die if my daughter thinks I ever abandoned her..Was her first word "dada" or "mama"?
How could Isabella take all that away from me?
Rage boiled in me. My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. I saw red.
I flipped the center table, shattering the glass across the floor.
Alex rushed in, alarmed. He looked at the broken pieces before staring back at me.. Before he spoke up, My phone dinged.
The photo.
I quickly opened it—and almost dropped my phone.
There she was—a teenage girl, sleeping peacefully, clutching a pink dolphin plushie. Quite similar like the one I still have in my closet.. I bought it for our little babygirl not knowing she even existed..
My eyes scanned her..
Blonde hair. Honey-kissed skin.
High arched brows and a cute button nose.
I wondered if her eyes were blue like Isabella's and the younger twins’, or green like mine and the older boys’.
I noticed how pale and skinny she looked.
Fearful thought started flooding in my mind..Imagining the worse..Was she starving? Sick? Hurt?
I shoved the thoughts away and turned to Alex. He looked confused, but I had no time to explain.
"I'll talk to you another day. I need to leave. It's an emergency."
I rushed to the elevator, pressing the button impatiently.All my doubts vanished the moment I saw her photo.. She is mine.. I know she is mine.. She looked so much like me that we would've been mistaken as twins if not for the obvious age gap..
She looked just like I imagined our baby girl looking.. I couldn't stop staring.. My hands itched to pull her into my arms but I need to go there first..
I called Xander, my third son, the calmest of the five.
"Dad?" he answered immediately.
"Get the jet ready. We're flying to Washington D.C. to bring someone very special home."
He understood immediately.
I called Antonio, my second son-Xander's twin-as soon as I was in the car.
"Gather everyone in the house meeting hall. Pull Dante too—I don't care if he's drunk, sober him up."
The urgency in my voice had them moving.
Thirty minutes later, I arrived.
I skipped the grand hall and went straight to the meeting room.
The moment I entered, the room went silent.
Dante, surprisingly, looked sober.
"Is there an emergency, Dad?" Ezaikel, my youngest, asked.
I nodded.
Respect first, family first. That's how I raised my sons. Prima la familia.
"I got a call from the D.C. police station," I began.
"They found someone special."
They leaned in.
"Isabella... she died seven years ago from a brain tumor," I said, my throat tightening.
They went silent. Sadness flickered on their faces before they masked it with coldness.I know their love for their mother but none of them let it out because of me.. I was too devastated to handle myself and everything.. And that forced them to mature up before ageing.. I feel sorry for them.. But somewhere they have the bitterness too.. She left.. Just gone one day.. Leaving behind 5 sons for god knows what reason..
"She lived under the name Mirael Russo, with a man named Damon, and had another child. That bastard remarried within a week of her death."
My hands shook with rage.She left me but I can't help the anger.. Specially when we never divorced.. She is still my wife but got married to someone else.. And that motherfucker mistreated her.. He mistreated my woman..
"And what, Dad?" Dante asked, looking at me as if he already suspected the answer.
"Someone special is waiting for me."
I struggled to breathe.
"Who?!" Vincent demanded.
"My daughter. My principessa."
Chaos broke loose as they all shouted, "WHAT?!"
I looked at Dante. He was too calm. Suspiciously calm.
"Isabella was three or four months pregnant when she ran away. She gave birth... to her."
I looked at Xander.
"We leave in 20 minutes."
Xander nodded immediately.
"At least tell us her name!" Ezaikel whined.
"And show us what she looks like!" Vincent added.
"Her name is Mirabella Alexander Russo."
I smiled and handed my phone to Dante.
They all crowded behind him.
Soft "awws" and gasps filled the room.
Dante frowned deeply.
"That's definitely our baby sister," Vincent said excitedly. "I'm going to spoil her so much."
He said..
"Who the f**k took a picture of her while she was sleeping? Dad, rip his head off when you get there."
Dante muttered darkly..
The others agreed wholeheartedly.
I smiled.
Already, my boys were ready to protect their principessa.
My principessa.. She'll return home.. To her true home..
- Writer
