Reaching the dining hall, a wave of warmth and laughter enveloped me, instantly putting me at ease. The room was filled with the rich aroma of food and the sound of cheerful conversation, creating an atmosphere that felt alive and vibrant. 

Three men were seated at a long, polished wooden table. I recognised David and Anton from our earlier encounter on the balcony, but the third man bore a striking resemblance to Uncle Ramos, a robust figure with a boisterous laugh that seemed to echo throughout the hall.

Next to my mum sat a stunning woman who looked just like Anton. Her radiant smile illuminated her face as she cradled Claris in her arms. The baby’s delighted laughter rang out, a melody of pure joy, as she nestled into her mother’s embrace, squealing as if the world around her was a playground of safety.

When Claris caught sight of me, her eyes sparkled with excitement. She stretched out her tiny hands, beckoning me to come closer for a hug. In unison, she squealed my name, “Junya---- ame---,” a sound that sent ripples of laughter across the dining room. Overjoyed, I rushed to her side, enveloping her in a warm embrace. She squeezed me tightly before releasing me, her affection overwhelming.

“Ray, look at you, my boy! You’ve grown so much!” she exclaimed, pinching my nose affectionately. I chuckled at the playful gesture, then turned my gaze toward David. He was grinning widely, engaged in a deep conversation with the man who could easily be Uncle Ramos’ twin.

As I shuffled to find my seat, I felt an inexplicable warmth settle in my chest. This was different from the usual atmosphere I associated with my dad’s home, where guests often lurked with ulterior motives—either seeking money or leaving empty threats in their wake.

 Here, laughter echoed genuine joy, a whirlwind of camaraderie that filled every corner, making this place feel like home for the first time.

Once dinner was served, we shared stories and laughter, savouring each bite as if it were a celebration. Plates clanked, and voices intertwined, creating a symphony of happiness that harmonised beautifully.

 As the meal concluded and the table was cleared, my mum and Aunty Malita—Uncle Ramos’ wife—took charge of setting up the barbecue area outdoors. Excitement bubbled within me as I joined David by the grill.

“Do you know how this is made, Ray?” he asked, his eyes focused on the sizzling meat as he expertly flipped it over.

I shook my head, curiosity piqued.

“Words, Ray. Words,” he replied, grinning at me as he handed me a pair of tongs. Together, we engaged in the process. He deftly guided my hands, teaching me how to handle the food as we chatted animatedly about everything and nothing. 

Once the feast was ready, I settled next to Anton and Timothy—Uncle Ramos’ look-alike—who each shared snippets of their lives, diving into tales of games and giggles, making me feel accepted and included despite our age difference.

As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering, I wandered over to my dad. Excitedly, I expressed my desire to spend the holiday with Uncle Ramos. Plans were crafted quickly, and before I knew it, I was whisked away, boarding Uncle Ramos’ private jet that glistened in the sunlight, ready for our adventure to Brazil.

The gentle hum of the jet lulled me to sleep, and when I awoke, morning light streamed through the windows, revealing unfamiliar voices speaking a melodious foreign language. I swung open the door and peeked outside, my heart racing with anticipation.

 The first thing that greeted me was Timothy, who instantly lifted me off the ground in a cheerful embrace. His beaming smile made the world feel even brighter as he carried me toward a sprawling dining room that seemed three times larger than ours.

“Choose what you want for breakfast,” Timothy instructed as he set me down in front of an array of vibrant dishes. My eyes widened at the colourful spread. I grabbed a plate and filled it with fresh fruits, accustomed to my healthy morning routine.

“What is that?” Timothy asked, wrinkling his forehead in confusion.

“My breakfast! I always eat this in the morning,” I replied, proud of my choices. But before I could savour my meal, I watched in dismay as David sauntered over and snatched my plate away.

He set it down and crafted a gigantic meat burger with crispy chips that looked miles more enticing. As Anton joined us, he added a handful of greens to my plate before passing it back, saying, “Now that’s what we call breakfast.” David gave me a high-five, and I felt a rush of camaraderie surge through me.

Together, we enjoyed our meals, and as they piled their own plates high with a feast fit for giants, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer scale of it all. Once we finished, Anton motioned for me to follow them outside.

Turning two corners, we emerged into the brilliant sunlight, and the breathtaking view of the ocean lay before me. Its deep blue expanse shimmered under the golden sun, captivating my senses. My mouth dropped open in astonishment until Uncle Ramos gently covered it with his hand, chuckling at my awe.

We settled down in a cosy spot near the water, relishing our breakfast as the sound of the waves danced rhythmically behind us. Uncle Ramos asked about school and dreams for the future, encouraging me to consider becoming a doctor like my mum, a thought that resonated deeply with me.

“Junior, have you ever thought about martial arts? It’s a great skill to learn, and David can teach you,” Uncle Ramos suggested, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm.

I was instantly drawn to the idea; David had saved my life once and seemed to possess a depth of knowledge I wanted to tap into. With eagerness, I agreed, and thus began a transformative holiday filled with lessons, laughter, and the forging of friendships. 

I learned alongside a group of other students, and it quickly became a cherished tradition to visit Brazil during all my school breaks.

When I turned nine, my life took a pivotal turn. Miles was born, and Claris, now four, was blossoming into a spirited little girl. But alongside the excitement of new beginnings came the shadow of tragedy. My mum faced complications during childbirth, and despite the joyful arrival of my little brother, she passed away shortly after. Her absence cast a long shadow over my heart, yet I held onto the memories and lessons she instilled within me as I navigated the tangled web of grief and growing up.

My father was utterly heartbroken when everything fell apart; that sorrow led him to make the difficult decision of sending my siblings and me to Brazil. During that challenging time, Uncle Ramos remained a steadfast figure for my dad, providing support and companionship.

 Meanwhile, Aunty Malita embraced us as her own, nurturing and caring for us with the love of a mother. She became our anchor in a tumultuous period, and gradually, we adapted to life as part of the Alves family.

Even though Brazil felt like home, we always returned to the United States to check on our father. Our visits were a mix of joy and apprehension, each return strengthening the bond we had with him. When I turned 11, my brothers, David and Timothy, decided to make the leap to Ireland for new opportunities, but I was promised that I would follow them when I turned 15. After a brief return home at 11, my father, concerned for our safety, urged us to stay with our grandfather.

Our grandfather was a figure of strength and wisdom, and his home became our sanctuary. Every weekend, we would visit him, excited to soak in his stories and the warmth of his presence. The four years I spent in the States were more than just a passage of time; they were filled with lessons. 

I learned about my grandfather’s intricate business dealings and the shadowy underworld my father was a part of. We inherited the family name “Craxilver,” a legacy that reminded us of our roots; my father was fiercely protective of his name, Dion, claiming it was sacred and not to be associated with our past.

In a calculated move to shield us, it was staged that we had perished in a tragic car accident the day Miles was born, alongside our mother. Pieces of the puzzle began to click into place as I turned 14; I recalled the menacing faces of those who came to threaten my father, and by 15, I fully understood the weight of our reality and the necessity of hiding our true identities.

On my 15th birthday, I felt a surge of responsibility as the eldest sibling. I took Claris, who was 8, and Miles, who was only 6, under my wing, and together we journeyed back to Brazil. It was Anton who helped facilitate our transfer to Ireland, where David and Timothy awaited us. Upon arrival, I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nostalgia. Timothy had prepared everything for our stay, the aroma of home-cooked meals wrapping around us as we approached David. 

He was no longer the boy I remembered; he had grown into a handsome man and a devoted father to his 3-year-old daughter, Daniella. With her fiery red hair and twinkling blue eyes, she radiated curiosity and innocence. Claris was enchanted by her and quickly took her in her arms, declaring that she wanted to stay with her newfound friend.

As I embarked on my journey to learn the ropes of my father's business, I found solace in knowing that Claris and Miles were safe with family. Rosey, David's partner, was a remarkable woman whose strength complemented my brother’s gentle demeanour, a match made perfectly in the eyes of our family.

In Ireland, I was immersed in the complex world of our family, learning to navigate the delicate balance of business and loyalty. David, shrewd and strategic, guided me through the intricacies of our inherited operations, while Anton played a vital role alongside Uncle Ramos in managing the family’s empire. Meanwhile, Timothy aided David in his training centre when he was away, ensuring I was well-prepared for the responsibilities that lay ahead.

Over the next nine years, I absorbed everything about the mafia family's operations, from the foundational principles to the gritty realities of gang life as a Dion, and later, as a Craxilver. Uncle Ramos was particularly instrumental in teaching me the depth and breadth of our world, taking me under his wing and revealing the core values that kept our family standing.

At 19, I also pursued my medical studies, driven by the desire to create a different path for myself amidst the chaos. With the guidance of esteemed tutors, I balanced my dual life—being steeped in the ways of the mafia while preparing for a profession that could offer an alternative. By the age of 24, I understood our organisation inside and out, having learned from those who had carved their paths before me.

Miles and Claris received their lessons, too, although only what was necessary to ensure their safety. When Rosey left Daniele in our care at just five years old, we all stepped up. Jacob, my best friend since childhood, had an uncanny knack for creative disguises.

He dyed Daniele's hair black to keep her true identity hidden, shrouding her in mystery for reasons that would unfold with time. Now, as she prepared to turn 12 this year, we were all eager and excited, ready to nurture her just as Aunty Malita once did for us, forging a bond that transcended blood and echoed family ties.