Page 50 of Broken Mafia Bride
The last thing I want is my father showing up here, trying to take over the search, and ending up ruining everything. Or worse—running his mouth to the Gagliardis just to antagonize them, and dragging the war right to our doorstep, using my daughter as yet another excuse to hate each other.
So far, Lucio has been careful, keeping the search as quiet as possible, doing everything he can to avoid provoking La Rete Rossi into something drastic.
“It’s fine, child,” he assures me. “I believe you’ll do it when the time is right.”
“Boss,” one of his men says, stepping into the foyer. “You’ve got a call.”
“Excuse me.” Lucio nods, walking off with the man following close behind.
With a defeated sigh, I make my way out of the house, walking through the beautiful field behind the house. My second day in the house, I was too depressed to even get out of my bed. Lucio took me on walk through the field, telling me stories of how my mother loved picking flowers and using them to create head crowns.
And now every time I feel unsettled, I find myself recreating steps that my mother must have taken more than thirty years ago. It makes me ache for her… and yet somehow feel close to her too. The entire house has that effect on me.
It feels oddly like home.
Like I’ve been here before, walked the halls that smell like aged wood, and stood at my bedroom balcony where the smell of grass and flowers and the sea float up and fill my lungs.
I push through a fence of tall grasses and nearly trip over a figure hunched low to the ground. The woman turns, catching my eye, and a smile blooms across her face.
“Ah, Giulia,” Caterina calls, motioning me closer. “You have to see this.”
I drop to the ground beside her without hesitation, not caring about the dirt staining my dress.
Caterina was one of the first people I met when I arrived at Casa Bianca, and within just a few days, we grew unexpectedly close, drawn together by something unspoken. There’s a natural warmth about her, a grounding presence I didn’t realize I needed. Being near her feels like standing beside a familiar fire—comforting, safe, known.
Though technically she lives in her husband’s villa across the road, Caterina is almost always at Casa Bianca. The staff joke that she spends more time here than at home, and honestly, I’m glad for it. Her lightness cuts through the heaviness that hangs over this place.
I remember what she told me when I first arrived:
“I didn’t grow up with a proper family. I don’t remember my childhood—just vague fragments, shadows. For as long as I’ve been able to hold onto memory, Lucio has been my guardian. He took me in when I was barely more than a child myself, pulled me out of the streets where I’d been abandoned, and gave me a name, a life.
He raised me under this roof, and no matter how complicated our dynamic has grown over the years, Casa Bianca is the only home I’ve ever known.
Still, there are times—quiet, aching times—when I long for something more. For the warmth of a mother’s arms, the comfort of a voice soft with love. Sometimes I wonder who my real family was, where I came from, and if someone out there once missed me. But those are questions I’ve never had the courage to ask aloud.
So I hold onto what I do have. Even if it’s borrowed.”
And now, somehow, with all the chaos swirling around me, Caterina’s presence here—her steady, irreverent, nurturing self—has become a lifeline. She doesn’t tiptoe around me like the others do because of Noemi. She doesn’t fill silences with pity or walk on eggshells. She just… shows up.
Her short, inky-dark hair is tied into a messy ponytail, and she’s dressed in simple jean shorts and a floral shirt, completely at ease in the soil and sunlight.
We quickly became friends. The kind that feels like something older than time.
Every time I look at her, I think how lucky Pepe is for snatching her up—her husband, one of Lucio’s most trusted men, who clearly worships the ground she walks on.
I follow her gaze down to where a tiny kitten is snuggled on top of a wide leaf. A small gasp escapes my mouth as I stare at the cute creature.
“Where’s his mother?” I ask worriedly.
“No idea,” she tells me. “I’ve waited for hours, and there’s been no sign of the mother. I think maybe he got separated from his family and left behind. Poor thing.”
I stare at its tiny, trembling body and feel my chest ache. Everything small and soft in this world always ends up at the mercy of something cruel.
I shoot her a small smile. “Oh, come on, we both know you already plan to take it home. This will make it the, what…” I pretend to count on my fingers, and she lets out a snort.
“Shut up.”
“Tenth animal you’re adopting?” I blink at her. “Or is it eleventh? You know, eventually Pepe is going to decide he’s had enough and leave you and your four-legged children.”
