The Missing Princess

9: Healer

My darling sister looks like she's been through hell, and that broke my heart, which I thought was no longer possible considering all of the heartaches I've experienced. I swore the first time I held her in my arms that I would protect her, that I would love her, and that I would always be by her side, but I failed. I am a failure of a brother.

I just hope it's still not too late to make it up to her and actually stick to my words this time.

I tapped my feet impatiently as I sat and waited for Lorenzo inside his home office, which used to belong to our padre. It was actually my first time stepping inside this room, and it is the only room in the mansion I have never ventured into. When we were kids, our padre only allowed Lorenzo to enter his office, and when Lorenzo did take over after the old man disappeared, I personally just didn't care to go here as I obviously knew what kind of work my fratello does here, which I hated.

It's been thirteen minutes, and it is getting really late. Lorenzo was still scolding that idiota, Niccolo. He has been scolding him for the past fifteen minutes for the way he acted towards our sorellina; I could distinctly hear their voices downstairs. I also want to give that ragazzo (boy) a piece of my mind, but I have no desire to actually speak to him. I'm not his guardian anyway; I'll leave that up to Lorenzo.

"Non parli mai più con nostra sorella né ti comporti così davanti a lei. Mi capisci, Nicco?" (You don't speak to our sister or act that way in front of her ever again. Do you understand me, Nicco?) Lorenzo's voice boomed, sounding mad as hell.

Thankfully, Isabella's bedroom was far away from the living room's hearing range.

"Ho detto, mi capisci?!" (I said, do you understand me?)

"Capisco." (I understand) Niccolo grunted.

"Sei in punizione per una settimana. Ora vai a letto!" (You're grounded for a week. Now go to bed!)

Then I heard heavy footsteps stomping and doors slamming, indicating that Niccolo was in his bedroom now. Not long after that, the door finally opened, and Lorenzo looked at me in surprise before quickly masking it and looking at me blankly as he closed the door behind him, walking inside the room and plopping down in his office chair in front of me.

"Lorenzo." I began to say.

"Oh? You're speaking to me now?" He sarcastically chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. This was not about us. If he's thinking that I'm here in his office to talk to him about what happened eight years ago, he's gravely mistaken.

"What happened to my sorellina?" I asked.

"Our sorellina." He looked at me pointedly and slumped back in his chair, rubbing his head stressfully.

"What happened to her?" I continue to ignore him, just wanting to find out everything that happened to Isabella for the past thirteen years she's been missing.

"Where did Ivan find her? How?"

"Uncle, Gio. He's our uncle."

I rolled my eyes again and repeated my question.

"Are you sure you're ready to find out?" He asked.

"I'm a doctor, for fuck's sake, Lorenzo! The moment I saw Isabella, I already knew she suffered from abuse; I've seen and dealt with cases similar to her. But I want to know exactly what happened. Ora dimmi." (Now tell me) I demanded, my jaw clenching in anger and annoyance, but Lorenzo wasn't fazed. He was calm but was looking at me threateningly, obviously not liking how I spoke to him.

I almost scoffed. He may also be the spitting image of Mamma, but there is no denying how much he is like our padre. Like father, like son

"Non parlarmi con quel tono, Giovanni. I'm warning you." (Don't talk to me in that tone) He hissed.