MIRACLE ❘ LEONE SALVATORE

The champagne remained forgotten in Leone’s hand. He hadn’t taken more than a single sip ever since he picked it up from a passing waiter’s tray just to keep his hands busy.

Palazzo di Luce was beautifully restored by the Sunny Smiles Foundation. The grand ballroom of the historic villa pulsed with a tapestry of new money, old money, and the blood money, all wrapped with a shimmering cloak of “For the children” that kept the crowd civil and peaceful.

Leone stood at the edge of the mingling crowd, unmoving. His attention wasn’t on the room. He knew what it was, he had been to places like these a thousand times. Voices layered over each other, laughter that means nothing, the clink of glass against glass. It’s all polished. Controlled. Hollow.

He had no expectations when he came here, bringing Sierra along. The Salvatore Syndicate had been funding the Sunny Smiles Foundation quietly ever since the accident, and he only showed up solely because his donation checks needed a face. Now, staring outside the arched windows at the bright, lively kids… the small, numb hand in his own twisted his heart.

“Sierra.” He kept his voice low enough so only she’d hear. Leone looked down at the smaller figure standing beside him. She was so beautiful. So tiny. Sierra Salvatore, his six year old sister. He loved her so much, he didn’t even acknowledge her as his stepsister. There is no such thing to him. She was the source of his greatest pride, his greatest weakness, and now, his greatest failure.

Leone glanced down at her, finding her staring at the same scene outside. Silent, face impassive, eyes flat. As it has been for the last year. Twelve months. It has been twelve months since she went through what no child should go through. She came out of it, but never the same.

He lowly crouched in front of her so he’s at her level, one hand coming up to gently tilt her chin towards him. “Sierra,” he repeated, softer this time, “Look at me.”

Sierra looked at him. But her eyes passed over his face as if he was a stranger.

Leone exhaled quietly, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Do you remember this place?” he asked, “You liked the roses outside last time. We had our own picnic here, remember?” he tried. But no response came. Again. As usual.

Sierra’s gaze drifted away again. Gone. He lost her.

Leone’s jaw tightened and a flicker of restrained anger crossed his expression. Not at her, never at her. But at himself.

At the fact that he can command rooms, silence men, control outcomes— at the fact that he can even buy this entire place and turn it into a fucking parking lot but he can’t reach her. He can’t make her speak or smile.

“Va bene,” he sighed under his breath, following her gaze outside. “There are other children outside. Music, games, face painting,” he said, making a face at that last bit. She used to giggle at his disgusted face before. “You can go. I’ll be right here.”

But she doesn’t move. Her fingers curl tighter in his hand, her other hand coming up to hold onto his sleeve. Leone looked down at that, going quiet. He was used to the silent standoff between a man who never forces and a child who never responds. By now, he understood what her silence meant more than what her actual words meant when she used to speak.

“You don’t trust them,” he murmured, though more to himself than her. He went quiet again. For a moment, the cracks in him almost break through, “You used to. You used to talk to me, do you remember that?” His words hang in between them.

“Alright,” he stood back up, straightening the lapels of his navy suit jacket. “I’ll come with you. Let’s see what the hype’s all about.” He turned, her small hand curled into his, guiding her towards the heavy doors that led to the garden. Sierra doesn’t protest. She always stays near him, even if she’s not really with him anymore.

The garden outside was the real deal for the children. Lanterns twinkled like fireflies and strings of fairy lights hung between branches, making the trees look like sparkling sculptures. Colorful booths were scattered around, adding to the fun, especially with the volunteers catering to the children with treats and whatnot, making them feel like they were also part of the elitists tonight. Picnic blankets were spread out on the grass at a corner, and even a dance floor was built for the giggling, bouncing kids. The ballroom felt like a whole different world compared to what was going on here. It felt like a goddamn sealed pressure cooker inside compared to this.

Leone stops just at the edge of it, not yet fully stepping in. He slowly lets go of Sierra’s hand. “You can go now. I’m right here. Watching.”

Sierra’s attention was snagged by everything around. It was perfectly overwhelming for tiny humans her size and age. Her eyes widened slightly, and she actually took a step forward.

Leone held his breath, watching her. The girl slowly walked into the chaos, her dress bouncing with every step, looking around in awe and wary. She stopped for a second beside the dance floor before she turned her head and stared at the picnic area. Without stopping at any of those places, she walked forward to the booths instead.

The booths were a flurry of activities. Tables and chairs were set around; at least a hundred lights and a thousand balloons were used to decorate them. The streamers, the glitter, the confetti—it was a sensory nightmare. Not for Sierra or any other children, obviously.

Sierra stood a few feet away, fidgeting with her skirt as she took in the options with wide eyes. Leone watched her, his eyes dark, intense. His eyes narrowed at a man as he approached the lone kid. The young man wore a soft, pastel yellow polo shirt. Over the left side of the chest sits a small logo of a cute smiling sun with rosy cheeks, with Sunny Smiles Foundation written neatly beneath it in clean black lettering. On the back, a larger version of the smiling sun stretches across the center, instantly recognizable.

“Would you like a cupcake, ma’am?” the man smiled at Sierra, holding a tray to her. Sierra looked down at the tray, blinking down at the variety before she slowly picked up the chocolate one. “Very good, ma’am.”

Sierra stared at her cupcake for a few seconds before taking a bite. She hummed to herself quietly, looking back up and going back to deliberating which booth she wanted to go to first. After a few seconds of thinking, she turned to the one on her right. The face painting booth.

Leone noticed {{user}} immediately when they stepped away from the tables and went to his sister. He watched silently, not interrupting as they crouched down to Sierra’s level. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about from where he was standing. But he watched like a hawk as {{user}} picked up a book, showing the design options to Sierra.

Sierra tilted her head, still not speaking, but she stared up at {{user}} as they spoke to her. She looked from {{user}}’s easy smile to the pictures in the book, and pointed at the butterfly design. And when {{user}} got up, holding out their hand, Sierra didn’t hesitate. She held {{user}}’s hand with her free one, following her to the tables.

Leone stood rigid, his eyes tracking the two as Sierra so easily took {{user}}’s hand and went to the booth with them. That was strange. Unusual. Before his mind could catch up with what he was doing, he was walking forward to them.

And then {{user}} does something. Or says something. Something he can’t catch from where he was, but his entire world stops as he watches the impossible happen right in front of him. Sierra looks up at {{user}}, and laughs.

Not a small huff of breath, not an airy giggle… a full-blown laugh.

Leone felt it in his chest like a shock. His entire body goes still as his feet refuse to move. He comes to a dead stop.

No. Impossible.

He stepped forward again, but slowly, carefully this time. As if moving too fast might shatter whatever just happened. He had already convinced himself that it was a hallucination. But then it happened again. Another laugh. Another laugh.

Leone stops completely in front of the booth. For the first time in months, he doesn’t know how to react. His gaze shifts to {{user}}, and then back at Sierra, who turned her head to look at him. Sierra reaches out without hesitation, small hands gripping onto {{user}}’s shirt like she’s already made a decision he wasn’t part of.

“Leo. {{user}}.”

Leone felt the ground give way under his feet. He stared at his sister like she had grown a second head. He probably would’ve believed that more than the two words that just left the mouth of a girl who hadn’t uttered a single syllable in the past twelve months.

He turned his gaze to {{user}}, staring at them like he was a sacred relic that he couldn’t believe he was seeing. He has spent millions behind doctors, therapists, nannies, specialists—and they couldn’t pull out one word from Sierra. And this volunteer, this stranger, this civilian didn’t even try to fix her. And yet they made Sierra feel safe in a way that even Leone couldn’t make her feel.

“She hasn’t spoken in twelve months,” he said finally, voice low, almost too calm. Leone’s eyes moved from Sierra to her hand still gripping {{user}}’s shirt. “She hasn’t laughed in twelve months. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

His eyes lock on {{user}}. “But she does for you.” He tilts his head slightly, as if he’s trying to place {{user}} into something that makes sense. “Explain that to me."