Her 7 Ruthless Mafia Brothers Novel – Isabella The belt hits my back again. I bite back my tears as they threaten to spill. I don’t cry. Not anymore. I’ve learned that crying makes it worse. So I bite the inside of my cheek, focus on the cracks in the kitchen floor, and wait for it to be over. “You worthless little brat,” Mom spits. “Always late. Always slow. Is it that hard to put some fucking breakfast on the table!” “We come down expecting breakfast to be ready,” says her boyfriend. I can’t remember which one. Finally when they think they’ve done enough, they leave, tripping over themselves. I sigh. I pull my hoodie over my head. It’s old, frayed, two sizes too big. But it hides the bruises.
And that’s all I care about. By the time I step outside, the sun is already up. It’s warm, but I still shiver. Not from the cold. From everything else. School is just as much of a hell as home is. If you can call that prison a home. The moment I step into the hallway, I hear her voice. “Well, well. Look who decided to show her face.” Sienna. Pretty. Perfect. Cruel. Her glossy lips curve into a smirk as she eyes me from head to toe. I lower my head. Keep walking. Just keep walking. Behind her are her minions—Kyla, Lori, and Summer. Pure plastic. “You still wearing that garbage hoodie?” Lori sneers. “Do you even own real clothes?” “Do you even shower?” Kyla adds. My books are knocked from my hands. Again. Papers scatter as my heart sinks. I drop to my knees, gathering everything as fast as I can. Please don’t touch the drawing.
Please don’t— Sienna picks it up before I can reach it. “What the hell is this?” she scoffs, holding it like it’s trash. I reach for it, my eyes pleading her “Tiff… Please… give it back” I whisper. She crumples it and throws it into the garbage. “Creepy. Just like you. And don’t call me that. Only my friends can call me Tiff.” Flicking her hair back, she walks away, her minions following her. I sigh as I look at the trash. Should I even take it out? Sighing I grab my papers and books, hugging them to my chest. Flashback — Two Years Ago “Your hair looks like gold in the sun,” I tell her. Sienna giggles, falling back onto the grass beside me. “You’re such a poet, Rory,” she says, linking her pinky with mine. “Promise we’ll be best friends forever?” I smile so wide it hurts. “Forever,” I whisper. But forever ends in 7th grade. She stops talking to me. Stops smiling. Her parents whisper things about me being dirty. Then she starts laughing with the popular girls. And laughing at me. Now I slip into the back of the classroom. No one notices. Or maybe they just pretend not to. That’s fine. I’m used to it. I sit near the window, sketchpad tucked into my lap. Drawing is the only thing that feels real anymore. The intercom buzzes. “Isabella Romano to the main office.” Heads turn. Whispers spread. Giggles echo. I stand slowly. My heart starts pounding. Main Office When I walk into the office, the lights feel too bright.
Mr. Garcia, the principal, is there behind his desk, hands folded tightly in front of him like he’s bracing for something. A woman I don’t recognize sits in one of the chairs, a man in a police uniform standing near the door with his arms crossed. None of them smile. “Have a seat, Isabella,” Mr. Garcia says gently. I sit. The woman leans forward slightly, a folder resting on her lap. “Hi, sweetheart. My name’s Ms. Loughton. I work with Family and Child Services.” Her voice is soft, even. “I know this is sudden, but there’s something important we need to tell you.” She opens the folder, but doesn’t look at it. “There was a car accident early this morning. A head-on collision. Your parents… they were involved.” My heart stutters. She pauses. “They were driving while under the influence. It was a fatal crash.” I blink at her. “I’m very sorry for your loss, dear,” she adds quietly.
My mouth feels dry. My hands are cold in my lap. I think I nod, but I can’t feel it. “…Oh,” I whisper. That’s it. Just oh. The man in uniform doesn’t move. Ms. Loughton watches me closely, like she’s waiting for something to crack. But I don’t. Not on the outside. “I’m sorry, Isabella,” she says. “I know you’ve been through a lot.” No, you don’t. She continues anyway. “We’ve started the process of locating any potential family members. Legally, we’ll need to do a DNA test to confirm any blood relatives. If there’s anyone willing and fit to take custody, we’ll begin those conversations.” “And if there’s not?” I ask, voice wavering. “Then we’ll begin preparing for temporary placement. But for now, since the school is not authorized to hold you, and there’s no immediate guardian…” She looks toward the officer. “You’ll be going with Officer Daniels. He’ll escort you to the precinct, and we’ll coordinate from there.” I glance at him. He’s tall, built like every other cop I’ve seen, but his face isn’t unkind.
Still, I keep my eyes down. “You’ll be safe, alright?” Ms. Loughton says. “We’ll figure things out as soon as we can.” I nod again. Not because I believe her. Just because I don’t want to talk anymore. She stands. So does Officer Daniels. Mr. Garcia moves around the desk, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Isabella,” he says softly. I don’t answer. I just follow them out of the room, my legs too light, my thoughts too loud, and everything behind my eyes too quiet. No. Why me? Why not. Just…. Why? Book #01:Chapter 2 Isabella Three days pass. I don’t remember most of them. Just white walls. Quiet hallways. The uncomfortable couch in the waiting area at the station. The tiny room I sleep in. Ms. Loughton checks in every morning. Always with the same soft voice. Always asking if I slept okay. Always looking like she wants to say more than she does. And then today, she knocks on the door with something different in her hands. “Isabella,” she says, stepping in, “we got the DNA results back.” I sit up straighter.
My chest tightens. She sits across from me and places the folder down. Her voice is careful. “It turns out… you have family. Two brothers. Adults. Their names are Zander and Rafael.” I stare at her. “…I have brothers?” She nods. “They didn’t know about you. But when I contacted them—they didn’t even hesitate. They’ve agreed to take you in. Legally. Permanently.” My stomach twists. I didn’t think there was anyone. She keeps speaking. “They’re based out of New York. We’ve arranged everything—they’re already flying in to meet you.” I open my mouth to say something. But I don’t know what. The words feel stuck in my throat. She gives me a small, understanding smile. “I’ll be taking you to the airport. You’ll meet them at the terminal. And then… you’ll be going home with them.” Home. That word doesn’t feel real. Not to me. The next thing I know I’m going to the airport with Ms. Loughton and the police officer from before. The airport smells like coffee and metal and rushing people.
Everything’s too loud, too fast. I walk a step behind Ms. Loughton, holding my backpack straps tightly. My sleeves pulled over my hands. My heart won’t stop racing. “Just through here,” she says gently, leading me toward one of the waiting areas near the terminal. I trail behind her, my shoes squeaking on the polished floor. Then she stops. I nearly bump into her. I look up. Two men are standing just ahead. One tall and sharp-edged, dressed in all black. The other also tall, but with a softer expression, holding a phone in one hand and glancing toward us. “There they are,” Ms. Loughton says. I freeze. “They’re your brothers.” My chest feels too small. My fingers dig into my sleeve. I want to disappear. They’re… real. And tall. And so put-together. Like people from a different world. Ms. Loughton turns toward me. “Ready?” I don’t answer. But I take a step forward anyway.