Leonardo’s POV

Morning arrived in Mumbai with golden haze flooding the city, woven into the chaos of horns and street cries. But all that noise slipped into the background of my mind. Today, my heart was not in India’s streets—it pulsed only with one name.

Annie.

I rose with quiet purpose. For eighteen years, I had imagined this moment. For eighteen years, every wound, every regret lived in my chest because of that one lost child—the last gift of Zara, my wife, whom I could never protect from fate. Today, fate returned that gift. Today, I would take my princess back.

By the time Carlos and I arrived at the orphanage gates, Chauhan was already waiting. He bowed slightly, a man who never failed me.

Chauhan said, “Boss, the paperwork is done. Completely sealed, signed. She is officially recognized again as Sinclair.”

Ragu, the caretaker of this place, stood beside him. His face carried gentle hesitation. He folded his hands respectfully toward me and spoke carefully.

Ragu said, “Sir, you can take Annie with you. But please… be careful with her. Gentle. I have told you before—she avoids men. She… she gets scared if anyone even touches her. Sometimes panic takes her. No one knows why, and we never forced her to say. Please, sir—she needs care.”

Carlos spoke before I could. His voice was sharper, full of restrained fire. “Don’t worry. We’ll handle her carefully. She belongs with us.”

Ragu nodded nervously. Then he gestured toward the courtyard. “Come. She is out there.”

We followed him through the small compound. My cane tapped lightly against the ground, but my chest thundered. When we emerged into sunlight, under the same wide tree as yesterday, there she was—my daughter.

Annie.

She sat on the grass, legs crossed, strumming gently again on her old guitar. Her hair shimmered in the morning light, her face glowing with innocence she didn’t even seem aware of. There was something lonely in the way she hummed, something fragile in the way she played for herself alone.

Ragu called softly, “Annie beta.”

She looked up, surprised, smiling faintly. “Kya hua, Raghu chacha?” (What happened, Uncle Raghu?)

And then my lips parted at last, breathing out words I thought I would never say again.

“My princess.”

Carlos added, his voice softer than usual though still deep, “My sister.” He stepped forward half an inch, a longing in his eyes to hug her, but—

Annie quickly stepped back. Like a startled bird, her body flinched, her gaze darting with sudden alarm. She whispered sharply, “Hey… kaun hai Raghu chacha? Who are these people?”

Ragu gave her a soft smile. “Beta… yeh tumhara parivaar hai. Your family.”

Annie blinked in stunned pause. “What?”

Carlos leaned forward gently. “You were kidnapped the day you were born, Annie. We searched for you, always. And after eighteen years… we finally found you. We’ve come to take you home with us.”

Her guitar slipped slightly from her lap as she shook her head, fear knitting between confusion. “No… no. I’m not going anywhere. Not with these two… I don’t even know them, Raghu chacha.”

I stepped forward, steady. I let my cane ground me, but my eyes pleaded with her, though I never pleaded with anyone in my life. Softly, I said, “Annie. Look at me.”

Hesitation flickered, but she turned her gaze toward mine. For one heartbeat, Zara lived again in that look. My voice trembled, almost breaking.

“I am your father. And he—” I lifted my hand toward Carlos. “He is your eldest brother. We are not here to harm you—not ever. We are here to take you home. I promise you, my princess.”

Her lips parted, trembling faintly. “Promise?”

“Yes,” I whispered with finality. “I swear, my little princess.”

A pause, then a fragile word slipped from her lips. “Okay.”

Carlos’s breath escaped harshly, as if relief broke chains inside him. He said firmly, “Then let’s go.”

I stepped closer, slowly, not to scare her, and reached out gently. My hand found her tiny fingers as though guiding her—but she instantly flinched back, quick as lightning, clutching her palm to her chest.

Her fear stabbed me deeper than any knife I had endured in the mafia wars. “I am sorry,” I whispered, voice rough like gravel.

Annie shook her head shyly, guilt in her eyes. “It’s okay… uncle.”

My chest fractured. Slowly I bent, looking at her softer, eyes burning. “Don’t call me uncle. Call me… papa.”

Her lips trembled as if the word had never existed in her throat before. Slowly she stammered, “P-papa.”

The sound melted me, collapsed whatever iron remained in my soul. For that moment, I was no mafia king, only Zara’s husband, only Annie’s father.

Chauhan stepped forward. “Boss. The jet is ready.”

Annie turned, waving innocently, “Bye bye, Raghu chacha.”

And just like that, in the most ordinary of words, she left her old world behind without knowing where she truly belonged.

Carlos’s POV

We sat inside the SUV, engines purring. Father and Chauhan took the front. I sat in the backseat opposite Annie. For all my wars, all my dominance in Italy, I had never felt so powerless before.

I tried. I tried to ease her fear, but her silence wrapped like iron between us. I leaned forward slightly, voice lowered. “Annie.”

No response. Her eyes turned to the window.

I spoke softer. “Annie… I am Carlos. Your big brother. I’ve waited my whole life for you.”

Still no response. Not even a glance. And I didn’t push her. I knew force breaks what is already fragile.

The SUV carried us to the airport. Security was handled without pause. We walked closer toward the jet—our jet. The massive silver plane came into view, making Annie stop for a second.

Her eyes widened. She asked innocently, “Are we going in… this thing?”

Father turned, his voice steady yet tender. “Yes, my little princess.”

Her lips parted, disbelief in her smile. “Wow…”

We boarded quickly. Inside the jet, polished leather and golden trim shone everywhere. Father took his seat beside Chauhan near the front. I deliberately sat next to Annie at the back, careful, measured.

As engines roared and the aircraft tilted upward, I noticed something. Her tiny hands clutched the armrest too tightly, her knuckles white. Suddenly her hand reached instinctively toward mine.

Her nails dug into my palm.

I froze—not from pain, but from the realization. She was terrified. This was probably the first time she had ever sat in a plane. For someone like her, the world suddenly broke wide open.

I didn’t say much. Words weren’t needed. I just whispered, “Shhh… it’s okay, little one. I’m here. Nothing will happen.”

Her eyes darted to mine, wide as the clouds outside. “But… where are we going?”

Father turned slightly, his voice gentle. “Italy.”

She blinked, repeating the word as though it was foreign, untouchable. “Italy?”

I smiled faintly, even though it felt unusual on my lips. “Yes. Italy is our home. And now… it’s yours too.”

Her grip tightened, fear giving way to reluctant trust.

And in that moment, I, Carlos Sinclair, who had commanded armies in the shadows of Italy, realized something new—I had no idea how to be a brother. But I knew I would learn. For her. For Annie.

---

The private jet slid against the golden horizon of Italy, wheels kissing the runway with a low thunder. The sound vibrated through Annie’s small frame, but her hand stayed firmly locked around my arm. She hadn’t let go since we had taken off in India.

Through the small oval window, endless fields of green and wine-colored vines stretched far as the eye could see. But Annie didn’t marvel—her eyes darted nervously, questioning everything. This land was supposed to be her home, but for her, it was another strange world too vast to trust.

When we descended from the jet stairs, the early evening air of Italy embraced us. Waiting at the base of the runway was yet another SUV convoy, lined up like soldiers. Engines idle, polished black cars shimmering under the dying sun. Mr. Chauhan had flown ahead of us—every preparation was already done.

Leonardo’s voice was steady, warm but commanding.

Leonardo: “Come, my princess. This is where you belong now.”

She didn’t answer. She only held me tighter, as though the world would swallow her the moment she let go.

The drive from the airport to the Sinclair estate was silent at first. Annie’s eyes flicked to the windows, catching glimpses of Italy’s countryside—its villas, vineyards, curving roads. But silence was not emptiness—it was full of her heartbeat, her breaths, her unspoken fears.

Finally, the golden gates of the mansion opened. The estate spread before us, a palace of white marble and shadows, towering like a fortress. Chandeliers glowed through high windows, and fountains whispered in the courtyard. Home, for me always—but for her, it looked like a world too large, too powerful.

As the SUV rolled to a stop, I felt her grip tighten on my arm once more. She whispered faint, trembling.

Annie: “Carlos… so big.”

I lowered my head toward her, voice softer than anyone had heard from me in years.

Carlos: “Don’t be afraid, little one. This is home. And no one here will hurt you. I promise.”

She searched my eyes, fragile trust flickering, then nodded once.

Inside the Mansion

The mansion’s grand doors opened. Chandeliers glittered like stars above. Marble floors stretched endless. And at the far center of the vast hall stood five men—the remaining Sinclairs.

Damien. Luca. Marco. Matteo. Danny.

They had been waiting since dawn, restless, unable to focus on anything else. Now, when the doors opened and they saw her, it was like time stopped.

A tiny girl beside the tall figure of their father. A tiny girl clutching my arm so tightly it seemed like I was her anchor against drowning. A tiny girl looking at them all with wide, fearful eyes.

For a moment, six hearts beat at once.

Danny was the first to break. Tears leapt unashamed to his eyes. He took one step forward—but froze when Annie flinched back instantly, clutching tighter at me as if I was the only one who could shield her.

Danny’s smile shook but remained. His voice broke, soft and boyish compared to ours.

Danny: “That’s her… That’s my twin.”

Annie’s eyes darted—five tall men staring, their gazes heavy with emotions she couldn’t read. To her, it was too much. Too many men, too many strangers. She pressed into my arm, whispering faintly in fear.

Annie: “Too many… too many.”

Luca, usually careless and loud, for once controlled himself. He raised both hands slightly in surrender, his voice warm, playful in a way that didn’t press.

Luca: “Easy there, little princess. We know we’re a scary bunch. You don’t have to talk to us today. Not if you don’t want.”

Marco, fire burning in his eyes, looked like he wanted to lunge forward and protect her, but Matteo’s calm hand rested on his shoulder, holding him back. Marco clenched his jaw, frustration vibrating off him, but he didn’t move further.

Damien, sharp and cold, stayed still—but his voice was softer than normal, reasoned, kind.

Damien: “You don’t need to be afraid of us, Annie. We’ve been waiting for you… our whole lives.”

But still, Annie trembled. Her face buried half into my side, her tiny hands digging into my sleeve. She peeked at them once more before shutting her eyes tightly.

Danny, whose face was wet now, couldn’t keep still anymore. He dropped to his knees on the marble, lowering himself, trying not to look bigger. His voice cracked with raw honesty.

Danny: “Annie… look at me. Please. It’s me. Danny. I’m your twin brother. We were born together… same day, same minute. You and me.”

Her lids flickered open. She looked at him—this boy on the ground, his face wet with tears, unlike the towering men around. Her lip trembled.

Annie: “Twin…?”

Danny nodded rapidly, smiling desperately through tears.

Danny: “Yes… twin. That means we’re two halves of the same heart. I missed you every single day.”

She stared at him, uncertain, but curiosity softened her fear just a little. Slowly, she whispered, almost silently.

Annie: “…twin brother.”

Danny broke completely, sobbing into laughter and pressing his forehead to the floor. The others took sharp breaths, hiding emotions in their own ways. Marco turned his head away, wiping at his eyes angrily. Matteo closed his eyes calmly, holding his storm hidden. Luca bit down on his lip, jaw trembling. Damien’s hand tightened into a fist, though for once he was speechless.

I looked down at Annie, whispering low.

Carlos: “See, little one? They’re waiting for you. And they all love you already.”

Her hand, trembling, dug deeper into my arm. Her body shook at the sight of too many men, but she stole a small glance back at Danny on the floor. Something… something flickered in her eyes.

But for today, it was enough.

Father’s voice rose, firm yet soft, ending the moment.

Leonardo: “My sons. Your sister is home. Annie Sinclair… is finally back in this house, where she belongs.”

The chandeliers glittered, casting golden fire across the hall of Sinclairs.

The family that had bled, killed, and suffered for two decades stood complete for the first time. A princess returned, holding to her brother’s arm, her eyes fearful but present.

For the Sinclairs, history had begun

again.