Missing for Twenty Years, I Found My Mafia Father in a Nightclub Chapter 08

Missing for Twenty Years, I Found My Mafia Father in a Nightclub Chapter 08

The hospital room door opened again. 

Vincent walked in carrying a bag of fruit. 

“I had the driver take Bianca back to the estate.” 

He stood beside the bed, unsure whether to sit 

down or keep explaining. 

After hesitating for a moment, he pulled over a 

chair and sat. 

“Little Star, let me explain. Bianca really has stayed 

by my side all these years. I admit I favored her 

because I kept treating her as a substitute for you.” 

“I searched for you for so long that I thought I 

would die without ever seeing you again. I only 

wanted to take care of another girl who had no 

family to support her. I thought that maybe, if I 

did that, God would let me see you again.” 

I did not know what to say, so I turned toward the 

window. 

A bird landed on the windowsill, then quickly flew 

away. 

Just wait a little longer. 

Give me a little more time. 

On the day I was discharged, Vincent came to pick 

me up himself. 

He wore a clean shirt, and his hair was neatly 

combed. 

He looked far more put together than he had over 

the past few days. 

“Little Star, I’m taking you home.” 

But I had no memory of that home at all. 

The car left Manhattan and eventually passed 

through the gates of the Moretti estate on Long 

Island. 

As the tall iron gates opened, the guards lining 

both sides bowed their heads in unison. 

Several of them kept staring at my ordinary 

clothes, clearly doubtful of my identity. 

They had already heard that the Don had found 

his biological daughter, yet they still could not 

believe that a woman they considered beneath 

them, someone who had worked as a club hostess, 

was now the Moretti Family’s only legitimate heir. 

The moment I entered the living room, I saw an 

entire wall covered with photographs. 

Most of them showed the same little girl feeding 

pigeons in Central Park, laughing on a carousel, or 

attending a gala for her mother’s foundation in a 

tiny formal dress. 

The photographs had yellowed around the edges, 

and some were creased. 

Only when I stepped closer did I realize that the 

girl was me. 

Beside the photographs were countless missing 

person flyers. 

The earliest one listed my height, weight, and the 

clothes I had been wearing when I disappeared. 

The later images were computer–generated age 

progressions showing what I might look like as I 

grew older. 

Vincent carefully pointed at them. 

“I had a new set made every year. I was afraid your 

face would change as you grew older, and I was 

terrified the age–progressed images might be 

wrong. I kept thinking that even if you came 

home, you might not look anything like the person 

in those pictures.” 

He studied my face, and his eyes gradually turned 

red. 

“Little Star, you look exactly like Isabella.” 

I did not want him to see how close I was to tears. 

so I turned away and asked, “Which room am I 

staying in?” 

He immediately led me upstairs. 

The bedroom had pale pink sheets, and several 

stuffed animals sat beside the bed. 

“I don’t know what you like now. Pink was your 

favorite color when you were little, so I prepared 

the room this way for now. If you don’t like it, I’ll 

have everything changed tomorrow.” 

Looking at everything in front of me. I nearly burst 

into tears. 

“Thank you.” 

Over the next few days, my life gradually settled 

into a routine. 

Vincent handled Family business during the day, but he always rushed back to the estate in time to 

have dinner with me. 

He bought me clothes so expensive that I would never have dared to look at their price tags before. and he got me a new phone and computer. 

He even postponed a Family council meeting and personally took me to sort out my birth certificate, 

Social Security records, and state ID. 

“Your birth record is still on file. The police never 

closed your missing person case either.” 

“Once everything is complete, you’ll officially be 

Erin Moretti. You are my daughter, the daughter recognized by this Family, and my only legitimate 

heir.” 

I knew he was explaining Bianca’s position to me. 

Bianca did not appear for several days. 

Then one day, while I was talking to Mia in my 

room, an argument suddenly broke out 

downstairs. 

“Dad, what exactly are you trying to do? Are you planning to spend all your time with her and 

never care about me again?” 

I could hear Bianca clearly even from my bedroom. 

“Why should I have to move into a hotel just 

because she came back? Now that you’ve found 

your biological daughter, are you planning to 

throw me out of the Family? If you make me leave 

today. I’ll jump out of an upstairs window!” 

I put down my phone and heard Vincent let out a 

weary sigh. 

“Bianca, this is the Moretti estate. Now that my 

biological daughter has returned, it isn’t 

appropriate for you to keep living here. I’ve already 

arranged a long–term suite for you at a hotel. You 

can stay there for as long as you want.” 

“I don’t want a hotel! I want to live here. This is my 

home!”