After those warm yet sad moments, they returned home.
As Sally had told him, it was time for her medication.
She walked with her usual smile, the one that seemed capable of melting sadness from any face, but something was different this time.
Her steps seemed lighter, as if she were walking without a shadow, without weight.
As for him, he followed her with a suspicious silence. His eyes followed her slowly, but his mind was far away from her, immersed in the swamp of his thoughts.
Why did her mother leave her? Wasn't she her daughter? Had something happened to her? Or did she not want her in the first place?
Questions jostled in his head, tangled like strands of smoke that could not be grasped, each one pulling the other into a deeper darkness.
When they arrived home, Sally went to her room to take her medicine, while Maldo remained standing in the middle of the hall, frozen like a statue of confusion.
Daniel was there, sitting on the sofa with a pale face and a weary calmness.
In front of him was a cup of coffee with a bitter aroma and a blank notebook open on his knees.
He was writing quickly and haphazardly, but with strange precision, as if each word weighed heavily on his heart.
What was he writing?
Maldo wondered as he watched Daniel's shoulders hunched over the notebook.
And why... did he feel the urge to do the same?
The idea was strange and illogical, but it captivated him.
Step by step, he approached without realizing it, as if something invisible was drawing him to that unknown notebook.
"Oh, Maldo!"
Daniel suddenly looked up, surprise flashing across his face before quickly melting into a warm smile.
He patted the sofa next to him and said in a calm voice,
"Come on, come here."
Maldo hesitated for a moment, looked at the notebook again, then at Daniel.
He didn't know why he felt that what the man was writing there...
might also belong to him.
"What are you writing?"
He finally asked, his voice a little hesitant as he sat down next to him.
His eyes moved between Daniel's hand and the notebook, as if the words hidden between the pages were calling to him.
Daniel smiled, then ran his hand slowly over the worn cover and said quietly,
"I'm writing down some important things... things that may seem trivial to others, but they matter to me."
Daniel paused for a moment, as if sadness had passed through him like a storm—calm on the outside, but scattering everything on the inside.
He did not raise his head, but stared at the pages in his hands and whispered in a low voice:
"To remind myself... of everything I've failed at."
Maldo's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise, and he said without thinking:
"You failed?! But you're... amazing!"
Daniel turned toward him slightly, smiled that smile that didn't reach his eyes, and said in a voice mixed with nostalgia and realism:
"Maybe that's because you see me that way."
"Can I have a notebook too? I want to write."
Maldo said in a voice that concealed his small desire; the words were simple, but behind them was a deep desire to hold something solid in his hands.
"Of course, why not? I'll give you one."
Daniel replied, handing him a notebook with a sympathetic look. The gesture was like passing a torch to someone who wanted to find their way in the dark.
Maldo smiled briefly, but it faded quickly, like candlelight melting away.
Then he said in a voice darker than the morning itself: "I had a dream today... Anzo... and that other evil one."
Daniel heard the words as if they were stones falling into a quiet pond; his pen paused for a few seconds, and the notebook on his knees seemed heavier.
Maldo continued, his words pouring out as if emptying lava that had long gathered in his chest:
"Actually... I want to—" He paused, then returned and confirmed in a tone filled with the bitterness of stolen childhood: "I want to destroy them... just as they did to me."
Daniel's expression slowly changed; it was not just surprise, but a realization of the depth of the wound that the child was not yet able to name.
He did not respond immediately. He placed his hand on the worn cover of the notebook, as if that hand were searching for the right words to respond in a way that would not extinguish the fire of revenge, but also would not betray the boy's innocence.
Finally, he said in a calm voice heavy with experience:
"I understand that... I understand your anger. But this is a difficult path, little one."
Maldo took a small step forward, his eyes shining with something stronger than anger... it was determination. He said in a voice that came from deep within his chest:
"It doesn't matter... I'll do whatever it takes. I don't want to be weak, I don't want to be pitiful... I don't want to be easy prey."
He paused for a moment, gathering his words in childish determination, then continued in a tone more mature than his age:
"I want to overcome all obstacles. I want to be someone who can be relied on. I want to protect those who are important to me... That's the kind of person I want to be."
His words were heavier than his age, laden with a strange determination that didn't fit his small body, but they were sincere and powerful.
"Okay... You won't be alone. I'll be with you every step of the way."
Daniel said, reaching out to gently rest his hand on Maldo's head, trying to give the child's determination a boost of tenderness and support.
A lively, chaotic voice echoed from behind the sofa, breaking the silence with a lightness:
"Of course! I won't leave my little friend alone."
Luca appeared, his face smeared with chocolate and cookie crumbs, bursting onto the scene in a manner that was half playful, half complicit with the moment.
Daniel sighed slowly, then said with slight seriousness:
"We have to find a solution... and find a way to deal with Luca too. "
"As if I'd let you!" said Luca, reaching out with lightning speed, grabbing Daniel's cheeks, and squeezing them mercilessly.
He laughed loudly before quickly walking away toward the hallway, leaving behind chocolate marks on Daniel's face and frozen astonishment on Maldo's features.
For a few seconds, silence reigned. Then Daniel sighed deeply and wiped his face with his hand, saying in a desperate tone:
"I swear... this spirit is a walking plague."
Maldo couldn't control himself, and a short, faint laugh escaped him... but it was sincere, and from his heart this time.
Daniel looked at Maldo for a few seconds, then breathed calmly and got up from his seat.
He walked over to the small shelf filled with old decorations and wiped the layer of dust that had accumulated on it with the tip of his hand.
There was a framed photo, its edges slightly faded. He picked it up slowly, as if afraid of awakening a dormant memory.
He returned with it to Maldo and placed it in front of him without saying a word for a moment.
Then he finally spoke, in a low but sharp voice:
"This photo... It's your family."
Time stood still at that moment.
My family...? Me?
Maldo's gaze froze on the photo, as if the words had not yet found their way to understanding.
He picked up the photo with a trembling hand, as if it carried more than it could bear.
He raised it to his eyes and looked at it intently, his chest rising and falling slightly.
There was a small child... his face painfully familiar.
The same eyes, the same features, but smaller... barely over three years old.
Next to him was a woman with silky brown hair that fell softly over her shoulders and hazel eyes that sparkled with indescribable warmth.
On the other side stood a man with black hair and blue eyes, his posture exuding a certain authority... and strangely, his features also seemed familiar.
Maldo ran his fingers lightly over the surface of the photo, as if afraid it would disappear if he touched it too hard.
He whispered in a broken voice, barely audible:
"This... is my family..."
Daniel nodded quietly and returned to sit beside him.
He looked at him with a trembling gaze and said:
"I found it... I couldn't find any other picture of you with your mother.
I think this is the only one that connects you two."
Maldo continued to stare at him, his expression shifting between surprise and anger, until the words broke from his lips:
"Liar... You know me... You know my family."
Daniel didn't move, only let out a long sigh, as if it carried the weight of years behind it.
Finally, he said in a hoarse voice:
"It's true... I know your family.
Because your father raised me. He opened his door to me when I had no home, he taught me how to fight, and he saved my life."
There was a moment of silence before he added in a faint tone, as if it were a belated confession:
"But I don't know you, Maldo...
When I left that house on my fifteenth birthday,
Your mother was pregnant with you.
You were still just a little promise in her womb.
And I had to leave... I had goals, things I thought were more important.
Until I forgot to come back."
"I don't want to hear this...!"
Maldo's voice trembled as he raised his head with anger mixed with panic.
"Where are they?! Where is my family?!"
Daniel remained silent for a moment, as if the air itself had frozen between them.
Then he shook his head slowly, his voice weak, as if each word cut his throat.
"Your mother... she passed away."
Maldo's heart stopped for a moment, his eyes widening as if he had fallen into an endless void.
He could only stare at him in complete silence, his breathing uneven, his hand clenching the edge of the sofa until his fingers turned white.
But Daniel wasn't finished yet.
He lowered his eyes and said in a broken voice:
"As for your father..."
He hesitated for a few seconds, as if fighting the words he didn't want to say.
"He was attacked... He's seriously injured, almost fatally. And now... he's barely breathing."
Everything froze at that moment... the air, the light, even Maldo's breath.
The sound of the bullet echoed in his head. It wasn't just a sound, but a clear and incomprehensible memory.
He put his hand on his forehead, as if the pain was pulsing beneath his skin, as if that old bullet was trying to make its way out... digging into his memory.
His lips trembled, he opened his mouth without words coming out at first, then muttered in a hoarse voice:
"Dad... I..."
He stopped, not knowing what to say next. A single tear rolled down his cheek, followed by a second and then a third,
as if the wall he had built inside himself was slowly beginning to crack.
Daniel sighed, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper:
"Your father... Lord Ricardo."
He looked up at him, his expression a mixture of respect and regret.
"He was the head of the biggest mafia in Casalini. He controlled everything there... all the gangs, all the deals, every man who thought he was powerful.
But Riccardo wasn't a criminal like people thought. He used his power to protect the city from corrupt gangs... suppressing them before they could ruin what he had built.
No one dared to disobey him, or even look him in the eye."
Daniel smiled sadly, his eyes lost in distant memories:
"He was the most wonderful man I ever knew. A leader... and a father, even to those who were not his own flesh and blood."
His voice trailed off a little, as if he were talking more to himself than to Maldo:
"And no one could have imagined that a man like him... would fall that way."
Silence fell between them for a moment, a silence as heavy as the dust filling the room.
Daniel had spent minutes weaving threads of the past, telling stories about Ricardo—about the sound of his laugh, about his sharp gaze that frightened even those closest to him, about his strange way of teaching those around him the meaning of loyalty and courage.
But when he looked at Maldo, he realized that all those images passed before him like the wind passing through space. No trace... no spark... no memory.
Maldo lowered his head, his eyes wandering toward the photo on the table.
His voice came out faintly, as if the words themselves were hesitant to leave his lips:
"I still don't remember anything... I don't remember my parents..."
Daniel froze in place. Something in the boy's tone tore at his chest more than any bullet he had ever taken in his life.
He wanted to tell him that the memories would come back, that time would heal everything, but he couldn't bring himself to pressure him.
Daniel slowly lowered himself until he was sitting in front of Maldo, level with him.
His features were calm, but his eyes sparkled with a deep sadness, like the gaze of someone who knows the meaning of loss and forgetfulness.
He reached out his hand to the boy, not forcing him to take it, just leaving it there, close enough to make him feel safe.
"It's okay..." he said in a low voice, his tone as warm as a fireplace on a cold night.
"They'll come back, Maldo... Memories don't die, they just hide.
They go away when the pain is too heavy, but they don't disappear. The good ones... and the bad ones too, will come back when you're ready."
Maldo's shoulders shook, and another tear fell down his cheek.
He looked at Daniel with eyes full of confusion and fear, and said in a broken voice:
"But I'm afraid... What if the memories are bad? What if I don't want to remember them?"
Daniel smiled slightly, the smile of a man who had experienced the same fear before.
"When they come, you'll know that remembering them is better than keeping them vague.
The pain that is known... is easier than the pain that remains unknown."
Then he put his hand on Maldo's shoulder and patted him lightly, as if to say without words:
"Even if you remember the worst... You won't be alone."
Maldo finally raised his head and wiped his tears with the back of his trembling hand.
His features were still troubled, but this time they carried something new... something closer to determination.
"I..." he said in a broken voice, but it quickly grew steadier.
"I won't give up. I will never be weak."
He paused for a moment, as if catching his breath, then continued in a more intense tone, tinged with childlike determination:
"I want to be as wonderful as my father, even if I don't remember him...
And also... as wonderful as you, Daniel."
Daniel raised his eyebrows slightly, then his lips parted into a small smile, half pride, half nostalgia.
He looked at him for a long time, as if trying to etch his features into his memory.
"When the day comes that you become like him..." he finally said in a warm voice, "I think your father will be really proud of you."
Maldo's head rose suddenly, his voice carrying a mixture of hope and confusion:
"By the way... when will you show me my father?"
There was a short silence, broken only by the sound of the clock in the hallway.
Daniel looked up at him, his features calming but not hiding the hesitation that passed through them.
"Your father..." he finally said in a measured tone, "is currently under the care of Dr. Giulio."
He paused for a moment, then added, clasping his hands as if trying to choose his words carefully:
"When the time comes... I'll take you to him myself."
Maldo's gaze froze, as if he didn't quite understand what Daniel meant by "when the time comes."
But he didn't ask. He just nodded slowly, a silent longing reflected on his face that he didn't know how to describe.
The silence was broken by a loud, familiar voice:
"Hey! I'm out of cookies! I want more!" Luca shouted from the kitchen in a tone that combined anger and genuine hunger.
Before Daniel could respond, Sally appeared from the hallway, rubbing her eyes with gentle lethargy, seemingly having just woken up from a short nap after taking her medication.
"Uncle Daniel... I'm hungry," she said in a soft voice, as if announcing a minor disaster.
Maldo quickly turned to Luca and said in a tone of near shock,
"Haa! All the cookies are gone? But I haven't eaten any yet!"
Luca poked his head out from behind the door, the last crumb in his hand, a victorious smile on his face.
"Maybe you should have moved faster, genius!" he said, mercilessly gnawing on what was left.
Daniel stared at them all for a long moment, without saying a word.
He shifted his gaze from Luca to Sally, then to Maldo, who began to scold Luca with a seriousness unbefitting his age.
Finally, he let out a long sigh, weary but with a slight smile at the end, before muttering to himself:
"I'm stuck... in the middle of this little mess... My God, it's a real mess."