Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 55: Chapter 55 Who is she?

Rafael leaned toward Alessio, his voice low, meant only for his brother’s ears. "Who is she?"

Alessio did not answer.

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Daisy again, studying her face, her lavender dress, her nervous hands clasped in front of her. Then he looked at his brother’s expressionless face.

His brother had not reacted to her at all. Which meant only one thing.

This girl was chasing his brother.

She had approached them in the elevator. She had waved at Alessio like she knew him. She had gestured at him, trying to communicate, trying to get his attention. She was probably one of those women, the ones who saw his brother’s wealth and power and thought they could win him over with their beauty.

And his brother was ignoring her.

Rafael’s jaw tightened. His protective instincts flared. He did not know who this girl was, but he did not like her looking at his brother like that. He did not like her inserting herself into their private moment.

"Daisy."

Alessio’s cold voice rang out.

Rafael blinked.

Daisy’s head snapped up.

Alessio looked at her. His green eyes were still cold, still unreadable, but he had said her name. He had acknowledged her.

"The elevator is moving," Alessio said.

Her eyes widened. She had moved back without realizing it, stepping away from the doors, and the elevator door started closing.

She looked at Alessio, helpless. Her hands moved quickly, signing her apology before she could think better of it.

I am sorry. I wanted to say sorry. For the other night. For leaving without saying goodbye.

The door closed halfway through her gesture, and the elevator started moving up.

Rafael watched her hands. He did not understand sign language.

So she is mute? He thought, shocked.

Rafael turned to his brother. "Who was that?"

Alessio looked straight ahead. His expression did not change.

"No one," he said.

Rafael did not believe him. He had seen the way his brother said her name. The way his eyes had followed her out of the elevator. The way his jaw had tightened when she looked at him.

Eva looked at the closed doors, then at Alessio, then at Rafael. She said nothing. She just held Rafael’s arm tighter, her fingers pressing into his sleeve.

Meanwhile, Daisy decided to drop the idea of getting Alessio’s number.

She walked down the hallway toward Grandpa James’s room, her sandals soft against the polished floor. The encounter in the elevator played over and over in her mind. His cold green eyes. His expressionless face. The way he had looked at her like she was a stranger.

He did not seem happy to see her.

Maybe he was angry. Maybe he thought she had used him. Maybe he regretted learning sign language for a woman who could not even say goodbye properly.

Daisy shook her head. She would not think about it. She was here to see Grandpa James. That was all.

She pushed open the door to Room 412.

Grandpa James was sitting in his armchair by the window, a blanket tucked around his lap, a book resting on his knee. His white hair was combed back, and his blue eyes lit up the moment he saw her.

"Daisy!" he cried, his voice weak but joyful. "My girl. My dear, dear girl. Come here. Come here."

Daisy rushed to his side and knelt beside his chair. She took his thin, veined hands in hers and pressed them to her cheek. His fingers were warm, trembling slightly, but his grip was firm.

"I have missed you," he said. "Margaret said you would come today. I did not believe her. I thought she was lying to make me eat my vegetables."

Daisy smiled. She pulled out her phone and typed.

I missed you too. I am sorry I could not come sooner.

James waved his hand. "Do not apologize. You are here now. That is all that matters."

He studied her face, his old eyes sharp despite their age.

"You look tired," he said. "Are you eating? Are you sleeping? Is that boy taking care of you?"

Daisy nodded. She typed quickly.

Yes. I am fine. Do not worry about me.

James did not look convinced, but he did not push.

"My birthday is coming," he said, his eyes twinkling. "You know that, yes?"

Daisy nodded.

"What are you going to gift me? Tell me. I want to guess."

Daisy shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. She pressed her finger to her lips.

It is a secret.

James groaned. "Not fair. Not fair at all. I am an old man. I do not have time for secrets."

Daisy laughed silently, her shoulders shaking. She patted his hand and typed.

You will see. Soon. Be patient.

James huffed. "Patient. Ha. I have been patient my whole life. I am tired of being patient."

Knock knock.

Daisy’s heart jumped.

The door opened.

Alessio walked in.

He was still wearing the black suit from the elevator, his dark hair still combed back, his green eyes still cold. He looked at Grandpa James first, then at Daisy.

Daisy froze.

Her hands went still in her lap. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, her eyes wide, her heart pounding.

He did not look angry or happy. He just looked at her, his expression unreadable.

Daisy hoped he would not tell Grandpa what she had done.

Alessio walked to the empty chair near the window. He pulled it closer to James’s armchair and sat down.

"James," he said, nodding at the old man.

"Alessio!" James beamed. "You came. Good. Good. I was just asking Daisy about my birthday gift. She refuses to tell me."

"Good," Alessio said. "Secrets keep life interesting."

James laughed. "You sound like her."

Alessio glanced at Daisy. Just a glance. Brief. Then he looked back at James.

They began to talk.

James talked about the weather, the nurses, and the food. He talked about his late wife and the garden she used to keep. He talked about the news, the politics, and the young people these days who did not know how to write letters anymore.

Alessio listened. He nodded. He said "yes" and "no" and "I see" and "that must have been difficult." His voice was low and calm.

Daisy sat in her usual chair, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes moving between them. She listened to their conversation, patient and quiet.

She watched Alessio’s face. The way his jaw moved when he spoke. The way his fingers tapped against his knee, restless despite his calm expression.

He did not look at her.

Not once.

Daisy looked down at her hands, feeling bad for him.