Missing for Twenty Years, I Found My Mafia Father in a Nightclub Chapter 06

Missing for Twenty Years, I Found My Mafia Father in a Nightclub Chapter 06

I lifted my head and looked at Vincent. 

Blood ran down my temple as I asked in a voice 

barely above a whisper. “Dad, do you really not 

recognize me?” 

My consciousness was slipping away. 

I tried to look at him for one more second, but 

darkness swallowed me before I could. 

In my dream, my father carried me on his 

shoulders. 

I laughed and shouted, “Higher, Dad! Make me fly 

even higher!” 

He tilted his head back to look at me, and the scar 

at his right temple stood out clearly beneath the 

sunlight. 

“Hold on tight. Daddy will lift you higher.” 

Then the dream changed. 

A black cloth covered my eyes. 

I smelled a harsh chemical odor and heard my 

father shouting my name through the chaotic 

crowd. 

He called again and again, his voice growing 

farther away each time. 

For twenty years, I had heard that voice in my 

nightmares. 

Every time I woke, I could still remember exactly 

how he had called for me that day. 

The first couple who bought me lived on the 

outskirts of a city. 

They forced me to call them Mom and Dad. 

When I refused, they beat me and quickly sold me 

again. 

Later, I was sent to an isolated farm in the 

mountains. 

An old woman once dug her fingers into my arm 

and said. “Keep her for a few more years, and she’ll 

fetch a much higher price.” 

Before the old bruises could fade, new ones 

appeared. 

But I never forgot the lullaby my father had sung 

to me. 

Every night, I used those few lines to soothe myself 

to sleep. 

I could no longer remember everything that 

happened afterward. 

I only remembered that I had refused to cry. 

I did not cry when I escaped from the farm. 

I did not cry when construction work rubbed my 

fingers raw. 

I always believed that as long as I saved enough 

money, I could return to my father’s arms and 

wrap my arms around his neck the way I had 

when I was little. 

Then the door to the nightclub’s private lounge 

appeared in my dream. 

Dad stood behind the scattered cash, looking at me 

with pity and distance in his eyes. 

“Young lady, it’s wrong to lie your way into a world 

you weren’t born into.” 

I stood far away and watched Bianca cling to his 

arm, cooing at him the way she always did. 

He looked straight through me as though I were 

not even in the room. 

Then the dream dissolved into darkness. 

I dreamed that the people who had once held me 

captive caught me again. 

They called me worthless and filthy over and over, 

telling me I had no right to carry the Moretti 

name. 

I tried to run, but my feet would not move. 

“Dad!” 

I screamed and opened my eyes. 

The first thing I saw was a white ceiling, followed 

by the sharp smell of disinfectant. 

Someone had fallen asleep beside my hospital bed 

with one hand still wrapped tightly around my 

wrist. 

It was Vincent. 

Only then did I realize I was in a hospital. 

I stared at the scar on his right temple for a long 

time, unable to tell whether this was reality or 

another dream. 

His fingers moved slightly before he lifted his head. 

When our eyes met, I saw that his were swollen 

and red. 

“Little Star?” 

His voice shook so violently around the name that 

it barely sounded like his own. 

I froze for a moment before asking softly. “Is that 

what you used to call me?” 

“I’m sorry. I can’t remember my own name 

anymore.” 

Vincent’s face crumpled with pain, and the hand 

holding mine trembled even harder. 

“Little Star, you are my biological daughter. After 

you lost consciousness, my personal doctor and the 

hospital ran separate DNA tests. The blood samples. 

were guarded by my advisers from the moment 

they were taken. No one had any chance to tamper 

with them.” 

He handed me the test report. 

I could not understand the complicated data. 

All I understood was the final line: Paternity 

confirmed. 

“Little Star.” 

He said the name again, and the tears he had been 

holding back finally fell. 

“I’ve been searching for you for so long. The day 

you disappeared from Bryant Park, I sealed off 

every exit nearby. I had my men search every 

building and every street in the area.” 

“After I became the Don of the Moretti Family, I 

mobilized every dock, casino, shipping company, 

and contact I had. I sent people to search for you 

across North America, but I never found a single 

reliable lead. I thought I’d die without ever finding 

you.” 

As I listened, tears began slipping down my face. 

too. 

I had waited twenty years to hear those words. 

“I understand.” 

I closed my eyes, my voice barely audible. 

“Give me some time to take this in, Mr. Moretti.” 

Chapter 6 

Vincent stayed at the hospital with me for three 

days. 

While changing my bandages, a nurse whispered, 

“Your father really cares about you. He held your 

hand and talked to you all night. His eyes were red, 

but he still refused to leave.” 

I smiled without answering. 

By the fourth day. I was able to get out of bed and 

walk around. 

The wound on my forehead had started to scab 

over, and most of my strength had returned. 

Vincent walked in carrying an insulated food 

container and came straight to my bedside. 

“Little Star, I made you some soup. Have a little.” 

He carefully lifted the lid, and the aroma of 

rosemary chicken soup slowly filled the room. 

“You used to love my chicken soup when you were 

little.” 

He handed me the bowl and waited nervously for 

my reaction. 

“Try it and see if it tastes the way you remember.” 

I took the bowl, and the smell of the soup stirred a 

hazy memory. 

Back then, Vincent was not the Don yet and was 

only responsible for the Moretti Family’s legitimate 

businesses. 

He chose to spend most of his time at home. standing in the kitchen with an apron tied around his waist and smiling at me over his shoulder. 

“Just a little longer, Little Star. It’s almost ready.” 

Too much time had passed, and all I had left were 

scattered fragments. 

“I’m sorry I failed you,” Vincent said quietly. 

“That year, I took you to the winter market. It was 

so crowded, and I let go of you for only a few 

seconds. Then you were gone. I searched for three 

days with almost no rest and mobilized everyone I 

could reach at the time. Afterward, your mother 

became ill too.” 

When he mentioned my mother, he paused and 

swallowed hard. 

“Before she died, she held my hand and made me 

promise I would find you. She said you were afraid 

of the dark and must have been terrified out there 

alone.” 

After a moment of silence, I asked. “When did Mom 

pass away?” 

In my memories, my mother, Isabella, had been a 

strong and capable woman. 

She managed the Family’s legitimate companies 

and charitable foundation, while Vincent was 

happy to stay home and take care of me. 

“The second year after you disappeared.” 

He lowered his head, his hands clenched tightly 

together. 

“After you vanished, she stopped working and 

devoted herself entirely to searching for you. Later, 

the doctors discovered that she had advanced lung 

cancer. She died less than three months after the 

diagnosis.” 

I thought about everything that had happened at 

the nightclub. 

I wanted to hate him, but anger, grief, and 

disappointment were knotted so tightly inside me 

that I could not even tell where all that hatred was 

supposed to go. 

“What about Bianca?” 

Vincent remained silent for a long time before 

answering, “I came across her near the Brooklyn. 

Bridge.” 

That year, he had gone there to deal with a conflict 

involving the Family. 

When he left late that night, he saw a young 

woman sitting near the bridge, crying. 

He had not intended to stop, but when Bianca 

looked up, he briefly thought he was seeing an 

older version of me. 

“There was something about her that reminded 

me of you as a child,” he said, his voice growing 

quieter. 

“I remember thinking that if you had grown to 

that age, you might still cling to me and act sweet 

with me.” 

So he brought Bianca back to the estate on Long 

Island. 

He gave her clothes, jewelry, and credit cards, 

allowed her to use the Moretti name, and publicly 

introduced her as his adopted daughter. 

But she had never been formally entered into the 

Family registry, and she had no inheritance rights.” 

Vincent had treated her as my replacement and 

given her all the love and care he had once meant 

to give me. 

“Bianca…” He paused, still trying to defend her. 

“The Family has indulged her for years. She grew used to using the Moretti name to bully people without powerful connections. That night, I’d been drinking, and the room was full of capos desperate 

to please me. I didn’t stop her soon enough.” 

He looked ready to keep explaining, but when he 

met my calm gaze, he finally closed his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Little Star. I’m so sorry.”