Amalia's Legacy: A Life Rewritten

Amalia

Tears don’t run down my cheeks anymore. Everyone around me cried , but I just stared blankly at the coffin as it was lowered into the ground. Yes, you guessed it—I’m at a funeral. My grandmother’s funeral. She was dear to me, the best grandmother I could ask for, though very strict. She raised me my entire life because she and my father thought it would be best after my mother passed during my birth. They believed I couldn’t be raised in a house full of men—my four older brothers. 

My oldest brother, Alexander, is 30. Then there’s Christine, who’s 27, Austin at 25, and Leonardo, who’s 23. Yes, they’re my brothers, and I’m Amalia Lillan Martinelli. I’m 15 years old. 

I was pulled from my thoughts by my father’s voice. 

“Lili!” 

“Huh?” 

“I think it’s time to go, baby,” he said gently, holding my back. I nodded and walked with him to the convoy. Jackson opened the door for us, and I slid in, thanking him softly. My father sat next to me,  the car ride was silent as we drove back to the mansion where Grandma and I had lived together. 

The place was full of memories—good and bad—but I would miss it. Maybe you’re wondering if I ever got to visit my dad. The answer is yes. They’d signed an agreement allowing me to visit my dad and brothers twice a year, but when I turned 13, Grandma stopped the visits. I never understood why, but I didn’t question her decisions. Questioning Grandma meant punishment for mistrust. For two years, I hadn’t seen my father or brothers. Even electronic communication was forbidden. My calls were monitored, and I couldn’t send an email without Miss Jones—my tutor—supervising me. She tracked everything I did. 

The car jolted to a stop, pulling me back to reality. Grandma was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. That meant I would now live with my father and brothers in Italy. My life changed in one night. I wouldn’t forget what happened in this house. I went straight to my room, avoiding flashbacks of the attack. My door was already marked by boxes, packed for my departure. The sight was emotional, but I refused to cry. Grabbing my pink Nike tote bag with the essentials, I made my way downstairs to meet my dad. 

My brothers came for the funeral. I knew it was mostly to support me, but I appreciated it. “I’m all set, let’s go,” I told my dad, who was finishing a call. He dropped the phone and motioned for Jackson to load the luggage. I waited in the car.

Soon, we were on our way to the airport, and before I knew it, we were on the plane. I took my usual window seat and stared out blankly as we took off.

A Few Hours Later

“Lili.” That irritating voice belonged to Leo. I ignored him, shifting to get comfortable.

The voice got louder, paired with gentle shakes. “Lili, wake up. We’ve arrived.”

Groaning, I cracked my neck. “I’m awake, stop yelling.” I rubbed my eyes and stretched. “Where’s Dad?” I asked, looking out the car window. “And when did we get here?”

“ He has business to take care of, so you’ll be here with me, Chris, and Austin,” he said, pulling me into a hug. We were standing outside the house now. “Dad will be back before dinner, okay? I’ll ask Sahara to bring you something to eat—you haven’t eaten since morning.” He gently led me to my room.

A few moments  later we arrived at my room before leaving  Leo hugged me and kissed the crown of my head .

The door closed, and I fell to my knees. My sobs echoed through the empty space as memories of that night filled my head.

**Flashback** 

Grandma smiled at me. “You deserve a little retail therapy. You worked so hard on this test—I’m proud of you.”