It will be a short story, maybe.

Eloise finds herself in the bustling plaza, imbued with the festive spirit of Christmastime, while navigating a world reminiscent of a modern mafia saga. Gifted with a remarkably high IQ, Eloise effortlessly switches between French and Spanish while learning Italian, showcasing her sharp intellect and linguistic prowess but still childish.

In contrast, her mother is consumed by her work and material pursuits. Neglectful and distant, she views Eloise more as an accessory to flaunt than a daughter to nurture. To her, Eloise exists like a delicate doll—a beautiful object to be displayed rather than a cherished companion.

Luciano De Rossi is a well-known billionaire and a mafia boss. The De Rossi family has controlled the mafia for almost 500 years. A father of four boys and a widower after his wife died in a traffic collision, he is at the ripe age of 50. He doesn't know about Eloise, but he is about to.

Luciano kids:

Antonio - 25 years old

Adriano - 23 years old

Romano - 18 years old

Emiliano - 13 years old

Eloise - 5 years old

Luciano's younger brother, his wife, and his children:

Brother Maximus - 46 years old

Sister-in-law Arianna - 43 years old

Alejandro - 18 years old

Catarina - 15 years old

stepheno - 10 years old

Luciano and Maximus' parents:

Aurelius - 75 years old

Cecelia - 73 years old

Chapter 1 - The Mafia father and his sons stay at the Plaza Hotel.

Eloise POV

Hello! My name is Eloise, and I'm a curious and lively 5-year-old. I live in the bustling Plaza Hotel, surrounded by the vibrant city life, along with my playful dog, Weenie, my gentle turtle, Skipperdee, and my caring nanny, who always looks after me. Just last week, I celebrated my fifth birthday, a day that filled me with joy and excitement.

However, my birthday could have been even more special if my mother had been able to join us, just as she promised. I had been eagerly waiting for her arrival, but she had to cancel at the last minute due to a work obligation, which left me feeling a bit disappointed. I tried to hide my sadness from everyone around me, putting on a brave face, but I think they could sense something was off.

In the upcoming weeks, there's a buzz of excitement in the air as someone important is coming to visit the hotel with his children. I can't help but hope that his kids might be my age. Making new friends fills me with anticipation—a chance for adventure and laughter in this big city!

Time skip

Luciano De Rossi's POV

As my sons and I entered the opulent Plaza Hotel, the clock struck 9 AM. Our flight from Italy had experienced a delay, courtesy of the uncooperative weather that had plagued the skies, causing our plane to land later than anticipated. Such disruptions were rare, so I felt no anger; after all, the whims of nature were beyond anyone's control. After a lengthy journey across the Atlantic, we finally arrived in New York aboard our private plane. Our exhaustion bubbled over as we stepped into the grand lobby, surrounded by the unmistakable air of luxury.

We had just made our way to the front desk when a lady in an ugly shade of purple cut in front of us. My third son Romano, who is 18, snickered and said to us in Italian, " Papà, passami il tuo telefono, devo chiamare I proprietari di Jurassic Park, ho trovato uno dei dinosauri scomparsi."(Father, pass me your phone; I need to call the owners of Jurassic Park; I found one of their missing dinosaurs.) causing all his siblings to snicker. I smirked.

As I was about to say something to her, another person cut in front of the lady, but she wasn't looking at the check-in concierge; instead, she was looking at the lady.

"Child, step aside. I need to speak with Mister Salmon," the woman declared, her tone dripping with impatience. Her Jurassic Park-themed attire only added to her commanding presence.

"First of all, it's Mister Salamone, not Salmon. It's quite rude of you to keep mispronouncing his name," retorted the girl, arms crossed defiantly. "And second, I'm simply mirroring what you did: rudely cutting in front of waiting guests. Did you know that impersonating a dinosaur is technically illegal? Well, not really, but it should be," she added, her voice firm and unimpressed.

The woman stiffened, her gaze sharpening as she glared at him. "Well, I have never!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with indignation. "I intend to have a word with your nanny, Elliot." Her posture conveyed a blend of determination and fury, making it clear she wouldn't back down easily.

"Again, it's ELOISE! Why do you keep messing up names? Is it possible you have dementia? People your age can be prone to such things, you know. Should I call a doctor?" The man, now identified as Mister Salamone, struggled to suppress a grin as he observed the exchange, his expression a blend of amusement and professionalism.

"If you could just wait a moment, Ms. Priscilla, I'll assist these guests with their check-in. They are rather significant individuals," he suggested calmly, attempting to restore order amidst the mounting tension. The woman huffed but stepped aside, allowing us to step forward to the concierge, and the young child named Eloise stepped out of their way as well.

Emiliano pov

Emiliano was staring questionably at her; he stepped towards his big brother; he never really liked speaking much as he didn't feel the urge to most times. This counted when he felt the urge to say, "Antonio?" I said, causing him to look at me in surprise, but his gaze was softer looking at me. "Sì, fratellino, qual è il problema?".(Yes, little bother, what's the matter?)

"Non sapevo che il padre avesse un altro figlio," I whispered into his ear (I didn't know his father had another child). His brother looked very confused at my statement.

"Di cosa stai parlando, Emiliano, lui non ha un altro figlio, cosa te lo fa pensare?".Antonio responded in a quiet tone. (What are you talking about, Emiliano? He does not have another child; what made you say that?) I pointed at the little girl, discreetly watching as she skipped to the bellhop and conversed with him excitedly.

"Sembra la copia sputata di nostro padre, solo che I suoi capelli sono dorati."(She looks like the spitting image of our father, except her hair is golden)

His oldest brother's head snapped to the little girl, and he looked at her more carefully because my observations were spot on 99% of the time.

Emiliano could tell from his brother's face that he was starting to notice the similarities. I watched as he stepped towards the concierge and asked, "Pardon me, , but may I ask how old that little girl is? She seems quite young to be running around the hotel by herself."

"Ahh, you mean Eloise Thompson. She is five, but you need not worry about her too much; she has lived in the Plaza Hotel since she was a baby; trust me when I say she is well cared for by our entire staff." he said, his tone betraying the fondness that he seemed to be trying to hide, "Thompson as in the Kay Thompson jeweler and fashion designer?" My second older brother inquired; he knew a lot about jewelry and all the well-known brand designers, as he liked to stay on top of the trends and always made sure we did, too.

"Yes, that's her mother," Mr. Salamone confirmed, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of hesitation. "She's quite good friends with the owner, which is why she made special allowances for her daughter."

Deep in thought, my father tilted his head slightly before asking, "When is her birthday?" The mention of birthdays brought a wave of melancholy. Their mother had tragically passed away in a car accident when Emiliano was just five years old, casting a long shadow over their family. Since then, their father had occasionally sought solace in fleeting encounters with strangers, but nothing filled the void left by her absence.

"She celebrated her birthday just last week, on November 4th," Mr. Salamone replied, his eyes flickering unease. He hesitated, feeling the weight of the unspoken information; revealing young Eloise's age and birthday was uncomfortable, yet he knew better than to provoke the De Rossi family. They had a reputation for being unforgiving, and he wasn't willing to take that risk.

Back to Luciano's POV

To say I was seething with anger would be an understatement. The concierge's words echoed in my mind, and I began to piece together the fragments of a disheartening puzzle. If what he said was true, and my mental calculations regarding that fateful weekend with Kay Thompson were accurate, then it was entirely possible that Eloise could be his daughter. The realization hit me like a cold wave—Kay had chosen to withhold this vital information. Her decision felt malicious, almost petty, especially considering I knew her type well. Kay was a gold digger, and after our whirlwind affair, she had eagerly suggested marriage, basking in the glow of a dream she had built in her mind. When I rejected her proposition, she vanished from my life without a trace, leaving behind only bitterness and unanswered questions. It was infuriating to think she could now wield the power of a secret that could shatter everything.

He was meticulous about using protection, but that weekend, he had been drugged with some new type of aphrodisiac drug. When he realized he was almost expecting a call, but when he had not received one, he thought he was in the clear. Now, he knew she had decided to be petty and keep his child, his DAUGHTER, from him out of spite. That would change, but first, he would need a hair sample. He needed to do a DNA test before he did anything, although looking at Eloise now, he could see his features. She looked like a mini-me with golden hair.

His parents would be overjoyed to discover that they had another granddaughter. Their family had long had only one female member—his 15-year-old niece, Catarina. She often wore a wistful expression, harboring hopes for a female sibling or cousin to share her adventures with. Catarina's parents, his younger brother, and sister-in-law faced the heartbreaking reality that they could no longer expand their family after welcoming their third child, Stepheno, who was now a lively ten-year-old. Alejandro, their eldest, was already 18 and on the brink of adulthood. With the arrival of their second granddaughter, Eloise, the family dynamics were shifting beautifully, bringing new joy and opportunities for bonding among the cousins.

Emiliano, his youngest, went up to Eloise, seeming to tell her something. Whatever he said, she responded excitedly to him. He then pointed to a spot on her clothes before plucking something off her. She must have thanked him because his youngest gave her one of his rare smiles before saying something and turning back to us, holding some hair in his hands.

They stepped away from the front desk, the soft hum of conversation fading behind them as they moved toward the elevator. "This way, Father," called out my youngest son, his voice bright and eager. I glanced at him, contemplating the unpredictable twists of fate that had woven our family's story. With a mix of hope and uncertainty, I realized that if the test results came back positive, he might soon no longer be the youngest. The memory of that weekend flooded back—how I had shared the details with my older sons after it happened but had kept it from him at the time, believing he was too young to understand. "Will our baby sister come with us back to Italy, father?"

"Yes, as soon as the DNA test verifies that she is indeed my daughter, though it's abundantly clear to me, we'll go through the procedure out of utmost formality, just in case," I remarked, gently taking the delicate strand of hair from Emiliano's hand.

I carefully placed it inside one of the handkerchiefs we always held, a remnant of the gentlemanly manners I had instilled in my children. It was a tradition passed down through generations—my brother had ensured his children, including his daughter, adhered to the same principles, much like our father had done for us. The air was thick with the weight of familial expectations, and I couldn't help but reflect on how these lessons had shaped us all.

Tonight, I planned to send the hair samples via air express. They would travel swiftly, reaching the mob doctor, whose DNA was stored in the system, ready for comparison. The urgency of the moment filled me with anticipation. Soon, we would uncover whether I had a daughter and my family had gained a sister, granddaughter, niece, or cousin—the weight of the possibilities hung in the air, each more profound than the last.