The little girl was precious. She was beautiful and majestic in ways that Manfredo would never be able to understand.Â
Of course he wouldn`t understand. She was Marietta Vespucci, daughter of his wife - but to another man. Upon Cristina`s pregnancy with the little one, he ended up kicked out for his drunk abuse. Once she told her father of this news, he`d rather take his chances living under a pub than dealing with it. Her father was rather scary, after all.
Sometimes, as he would glance at that little girl, he wondered what it`d be like if those were his eyes instead of that twat, Vieri`s. Would she still have those cherry lips and small button nose? Would her hair be the soft brown waves, or would it be coarse and thick black, like Manfredo`s?Â
He scoffed at the thought. He could tell Cristina knew he was watching. She always got more tense, even at the slightest bit at his presence.Â
Whatever.Â
All he needed anyway was a bit of alcohol for the night and he'd stop thinking about the little girl that could`ve been his by tomorrow. ... Yeah, right. Okay.










