Chapter 02: Who's Dario Moretti?!

Avery's POV

I was right. This week was the best week I've had in a really long time, but now my brother has gone back to his own life, seeing as he has a lot to do. But before he left, he made a promise to check up on me every two hours in the day till 12pm, and he has been keeping his promise, so my dad hasn't tried anything with me.

He hasn't even been inviting his disgusting pedophile friends over and I'm really glad about that, although it got me thinking that he might be aware that I was being raped by his friends. I knew that I wouldn't be surprised but I couldn't help but think about it.

I hadn't seen or heard from my father all day, and I was out in the living room at exactly 6 am. The cooks said he ran out of the house in a hurry at almost 5am and that they were surprised he wasn't back yet. I nodded at them although in my mind I wished that he didn't return at all.

I decided to sit in the living room and watch the television for a while, seeing as it had been so long since I watched, and that was how I fell asleep on the couch.

Waking up at about 6:40 pm, I found out that he wasn't still back home and I began to get curious. Was he in an accident that landed him in the hospital? Is he….. dead? My heart felt giddy at the thought.

One can only hope. My subconscious sighed and sluggishly shook her head. I hate to admit it dear, but you're right. I nodded my head as a smile played on my lips.

I watched the TV for about thirty more minutes when I heard the door open and saw my father staggering in, covered in blood and bruises. He looked battered, and from what I could see from that length – although it wasn't far, and it's all thanks to my short sightedness – his fingers looked broken.

I tried my best to smolder the smile that was about to sneak up onto my lips at his battered state as I watched him limp up the stairs, wincing whenever he had to step on his right leg.

I guess his right leg got hurt too. The diva, also known as my subconscious, smirked as she folded her hands across her chest.

A satisfied grin spread across my face as I tried to imagine him being beat up. Whoever did this to him deserved hearts and roses.

I sat back down to enjoy the show I was watching, when one of the maids walked into the living room, and then looked at me like she'd seen a ghost. I didn't really mind though – maybe she didn't expect to see me in the living room at this time.

At least that's what I thought till I heard her talking to another maid.

“I can't believe this. Her father is in a bad condition and she's in the living room, happily watching TV and eating popcorn.” The first one said to the other, still glaring at me from the corner of the kitchen door.

“Very strange kid, that one. I don't blame her father for hating her. She deserves it.” The other one replied as they still stood there looking at me.

If they thought I was going to leave the exquisite time I was having watching a very intriguing TV show just because my dad got beat up, then they had to think again.

“Why are you two standing over here gossipping?” I heard a rich, chocolatey voice, and I couldn't help turning around to check who it was.

She was dark, chubby and really beautiful. Looked to be in her 40s. I hadn't seen her around before, but it seems she'd been here a long time based on the authority she had.

“That kid you're looking at has been through more than enough. She's hated for what she knows nothing about and she's being abused right in front of our eyes. None of us has stood up for her before and that's because nobody wants to lose their jobs. But if I hear any of you speak foul about her again…. that's goodbye. You won't have that job you so desperately want to save. Now get out of my sight and back to work.” She growled as they scurried away whimpering.

“And inform your friends too.” She yelled out to them before she started walking towards me.

“Hello Avery.” She called out calmly as she stood beside me.

At first I didn't realize I was the one she was talking to because it'd been so long since anyone used my name.

I looked up at her and she was beaming a smile at me. A very beautiful smile at that.

“Hi ma'am.” I smiled at the warm and fuzzy feeling I got from just her smile.

“Oh – call me Rosette.” She sighed.

“Rosette. A very beautiful name that is.” I wasn't trying to be nice, but here I am saying all this extremely nice stuff.

“Thank you darling.” She placed a hand over her heart, as her smile grew wider.

“Well, I noticed you've been chomping on popcorn for quite a while. We made some doughnuts in the kitchen in case you'd like some.”

“Doughnuts?!” I exclaimed in surprise as she nodded her head.

I couldn't remember the last time I had doughnuts. It was probably while I was still in boarding school when I took a bite from my roommate's own.

“Yes please.” I smiled in surprise as she turned and left.

Someone still cares. This is surprising. My subconscious sighed as she blew her nose loudly into a napkin. I nodded in response as tears gathered in my eyes.

A few minutes later, she came back in with a tray of glazed doughnuts and a tub of ice cream.

“I didn't know if you'd prefer ice cream or orange juice.” She said as she set the snacks on the table in front of me.

“Oh this is perfect.” I sighed as she smiled and left me to my TV show.

The rest of the day went by in a blur and before I knew it, I was already heading up to bed. It felt good to go to sleep without the fear of being locked in by morning, but that room still felt haunted by the past experiences.

I woke up really late, compared to how I usually woke up. The sun was already high in the sky and my father's voice was so loud I could hear it from up here. And he sounded really mad. I quietly walked out of my room to find out what was going on.

I looked down at him shouting at his bodyguards. I'm glad I was up the stairs, I know he wouldn't be looking up anytime soon.

He was yelling at them in Italian which I didn't understand seeing as no one spoke it to me.

“Look at what that underfed toddler did to me. That stupid fucker. I want you all to go out there, find him and kill him.” He said, motioning crazily with his hands.

“Sir……ummm don't you think it'll be a lot easier if you tell us who we're looking for?!” One of the five suited men muttered.

“Who do you think I mean when I say he's an underfed toddler?” He growled at the questionnaire.

He should be pretty ashamed of himself. For an “underfed toddler” to beat him up like this , what sort of mafia or ex mafia boss is he?! My subconscious scowled.

As no one seemed to know who he was talking about, he decided to tell them.

Slowly massaging his temple, he sighed, “Dario Moretti”. He spat out like it was poison on his tongue.

They all shuddered at the mention of the name, looking around at each other with a scared expression.

My dad was feared in the underground world, but I'd never seen anyone react this way to him no to talk of the mention of just his name. So it got me wondering.

Who's Dario Moretti?!