After what felt like an eternity, they arrived in Sicily, Chiara's hometown. The familiar sights, sounds, and smells of the island filled her senses—the scent of salty air and blooming jasmine, the distant hum of cicadas—offering her a brief moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions she had been grappling with.
"Chiara!" Her mother's voice trembled with a mix of relief and despair as soon as she caught sight of her.
Elena LaGuardia, a petite woman with a graceful but fragile demeanor, rushed forward, enveloping Chiara in a tight embrace. Chiara could feel her mother's tears dampen her shoulder, her sobs muffled against her.
"It's okay, Mama. Stefano will be okay. He has to be," Chiara whispered, her voice cracking as she fought back her own tears.
"Let the girl breathe, Elena," Paolo, her father, said, his voice cutting through the emotional haze. He stepped forward, his presence strong and steady as always.
Elena reluctantly released Chiara, allowing her to turn and embrace her father, drawing comfort from his reassuring presence. "It's good to have you back, bambina," he said, his deep voice soft with unspoken relief.
Chiara squeezed him tighter in response. "How did this happen?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper as she pulled away, looking up into his somber eyes.
"How about we talk about it in my study?" her father suggested gently, guiding her toward the sanctuary of his private space.
In the quiet of the study, the weight of the situation settled heavily around them. Her father's grim expression only deepened Chiara's unease. "Although the world sees it as an accident, it was deliberate. Someone tried to kill Stefano, and they almost succeeded," he revealed, his voice thick with sorrow.
Chiara's body went numb, her mind struggling to process the gravity of his words. "How is he?" she choked out, her throat constricting painfully as she waited for the truth.
"He's in a coma," Paolo said, his words like a weight on her chest.
"What?!" Chiara's heart skipped a beat.
"The doctors say the critical period has passed, but they don't know when he'll wake up. It could be today, tomorrow, or even a month from now. And there may still be complications," her father continued, his eyes clouded with concern and fear.
Tears began to stream down her face, and a sob escaped her lips, raw and painful. "I want to see him."
"No, Chiara. It's too dangerous," Paolo protested, concern etched deep in his features.
"I don't care. I need to see him," she cried, her heart aching for her brother, her only family member who had always been there for her. "Please, Dad."
"Tomorrow," he sighed in frustration, torn between protecting her and granting her desperate plea. "You can see him tomorrow. For now, let's get you something to eat, and then you can rest."
"I'm not hungry."
"Chiara, please," her father urged softly. "Eat something. Your mother's cooked for you. Sit with her. It will make her feel better. She's been crying since yesterday morning."
"It happened yesterday morning? And you didn't tell me?" Her voice trembled with a mixture of shock and anger.
"Because I knew you'd come rushing back alone. It wasn't safe," he admitted, his words like a bitter pill.
The same sentence had governed her entire life, a constant reminder of the dangers lurking in their world. "Well, it's never going to be safe for us, is it?" she spat, unable to contain her frustration. With those words hanging in the air, she stormed out of her father's study, her emotions boiling over.
It was always the same thing in this house.
It's not safe.
How many things had she missed out on because of that damned phrase? Sleepovers, dates, vacations—everything was deemed unsafe.
As if the children of the Italian Mafia's Don could ever be safe.
That was one of the reasons Chiara had fought so hard to escape her family's world. And she had succeeded.
Chiara had started a new life where no one knew her true identity. She had changed from Chiara LaGuardia to Chiara Ferragamo, a process so simple for someone with the right connections. A few calls, a couple of weeks, and Chiara Ferragamo was born—a poor girl born to immigrant parents, who earned a full-ride scholarship to Darthmond University, one of Europe's most prestigious institutions.
After graduating with a degree in Computer Science, specializing in Cyber Security & Cryptography, she landed her dream job as a Cybersecurity Consultant.
Even her appearance had changed. Chiara LaGuardia had long, dark brown hair that cascaded down her back in soft waves, her hazel eyes framed by lashes that drew attention. But Chiara Ferragamo had short, blonde hair and always wore glasses, hiding her expressive eyes behind them.
She had built the life she'd always dreamed of—far from her family's bloodstained empire. But one phone call, one emergency, and Chiara Ferragamo was gone.
The LaGuardia children had always been targets, but this was the first time someone had succeeded in hurting one of them.
The crushing weight of her brother's condition pressed heavily on her heart. She couldn't bear the thought of waiting another day to see him and make sure he was still alive.
The sound of her mother's voice outside the door snapped her out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath, wiped away the tears, and opened the door to find her mother standing there, her face a mask of both worry and love.
"Lunch is served. Come and eat," Elena said softly, her eyes searching Chiara's face for any sign of comfort.
Chiara forced a faint smile, grateful for her mother's care. "Okay, Mama."
At the dining table, the absence of Stefano was palpable. Elena's eyes watered as she gazed at the empty seat that should have been filled by her son. Paolo's frown deepened as he followed his wife's gaze, trying to distract her with small talk, but his own sorrow was evident.
Chiara's heart softened as she watched the quiet interaction between her parents. Despite her internal struggles, she couldn't ignore the pain they were enduring. She loved them deeply, even if she disagreed with their way of life. Now was not the time to dwell on her desire for freedom; she needed to support her family through this dark time.
As the evening sky painted shades of orange and pink over the Sicilian landscape, Chiara retreated to her desk, the glow of her laptop illuminating her face. She had work to do, but her mind remained consumed by thoughts of her brother, the family, and the life she had tried so hard to escape.