The Mafia's Stolen Daughter

06

**italicized words= foreign language, sounds or thoughts

Mystery POV

She has been missing for sixteen years. Sixteen years and I still haven't found my baby. Those filthy Russians took her when she was just 3 months old.

They took my twins, but I got them back.

Now, I just need to get her.

I spoke on the phone with the stupid Russian leader, Sergei.

"I have one of my men with her. She's not with me. But you can get her by giving all your shipments to us," he tries to negotiate.

"Son of a b!tch! Give me my daughter! I know you would just take my sh!t without her. She's a child Marco!"

"Then you will give me what I want. Here's a hint: she's closer than you think. When the time is right you'll meet her, then we will see what you do, my friend."

"Asshole!"

I end the call and look to my right.

"It's the anniversary day," my eldest son tells me, "I miss her."

"Me too," says his twin sister.

I'm going to kill those fuckers.

You would think that being an Italian Mafia leader would make it easier to find my daughter but every time we get close, she is on to the next place.

I just want my daughter back.

Aubrey Valentina

I hate thinking of the past. I just want to move on but I can't do that until I find the Romano family, then I'll get answers—well if there is even anything to know.

I've been in California for a week now and haven't found anything. I would ask someone but I can just be like 'I've been abused my whole life and need to find my biological family, well if they even exist. Oh and I don't even have proof I was kidnapped.' The last thing I want is to be put into a group home or be into a family who doesn't give me any freedom.

Sadly, it doesn't just work like that.

Trust me, I rather endure all this bs because at least I get some freedom. They are almost never home.

It's the weekend and I have no choice but to stay home. Barbara and Anderson have been barely here because all they do is drink, get high and party. When they come home it's only for a few hours before they go and hit up the next bar.

I've tried my best to keep the house clean but they come to the house and trash it. And I can't do anything about it.

"Little bitch where are you?" Anderson yells from upstairs.

I clean up the rest of the things in the basement before walking up the stairs.

"Yes sir."

"Ah there you are. Why haven't you cooked me dinner?" He slurred.

"I didn't know you'd be home. And we don't really have anything to eat. I've been living off of snack foods, sir," I replied.