Episode 3

Sophia

I approach the crib and look around with sorrow. The room isn't decorated for a baby and it's quite dark.

I draw the curtains to let the sunlight do its job. The baby screams at the top of its lungs, its face red. It isn't wearing a diaper and the crib is dirty with its own waste.

I search frantically for diapers and wet wipes to attend to it. As soon as I find them, I sigh in relief. I move closer to the baby and lift up its small t-shirt which is also wet, with what I hope is sweat.

"Oh, you're a girl," I say as I get a better look at her.

Strange. I'm almost certain my aunt told me about the Capo's heir, but I guess the baby's sex doesn't prevent her from being her father's successor. We're in the twenty-first century, if a woman wants to be Capo, she will be.

"I know, honey, you'll be warm again soon," I whisper upon feeling her cold skin.

Taking off the clothes shows me that the situation is worse than I imagined. I'm going to have to bathe her. I clean the excess dirt with wet wipes while the little one cries out with all the strength of her tiny lungs. Carefully, I carry her in my arms to one of the doors, but it turns out to be a closet. I open the other door and bingo, we have a bathroom.

Looking around, I'm sure I can't bathe her in the huge bathtub, it's too dangerous. I turn the sink tap and when the water is lukewarm, I place the baby in and wash her with the soap on the counter, which isn't meant for babies—I hope it doesn't harm her sensitive skin.

The baby quiets for a few seconds as she feels the water, but then resumes crying even louder.

"It's just water, sweetheart, we'll be done soon."

Since I'm here, I decide to wash her beautiful blond hair with extreme care, making sure no water runs down her face and into her tiny ears.

"That's it, my dear, we're done now."

I lift her out and wrap her up in a towel that I fortunately found in one of the many drawers of the enormous piece of furniture that covers an entire wall of the bathroom.

I search everywhere for a hairdryer but can't find anything. Just as I'm about to give up hope, I locate one in a small plastic basket on one of the shelves.

I find an outlet, turn it on the lowest speed, and begin to dry the slippery baby, who I think enjoys the warmth as she quiets for a few minutes.

"See? That wasn't so bad," I tell her as I make sure to dry her all over.

Once she's dry, I switch off the dryer and walk over to one of the room's large chaise lounges, hastening to put on her diaper.

I feel like crying like the baby as I fumble with the diaper, but I finally manage something respectable. Then I try to dress her, but she cries and flails her little arms and legs.

I sadly notice her ribs sticking out as she cries.

"You need to eat better, little one," I tell her and stroke her cheek, hoping it'll plump up someday.

I place some large cushions around her to prevent her from falling to the floor, then proceed to change the crib's bedding, never taking my eyes off the little gladiator punching the air with all her might.

After finishing, I pick her up again and set her down in her crib, making sure to cover her with a clean blanket.

The baby continues crying, but I tune it out and begin to clean up the mess in her room and the bathroom. I even locate the little one's toiletries and place them in a more accessible spot. I'll need to organize this room when I have time. And maybe decorate it—the gray color of the walls is depressing. If this were my room, I'd cry just like the baby.

"I didn't ask for your name, little one, but I'm sure it's beautiful.”

My heart breaks when I see tears rolling down her thin cheeks. I move closer and stroke her belly with my hand, but it doesn't soothe her, she continues to cry.

When I'm about to start crying with her, I remember something my dad always used to tell me.

I hold her in my arms, open my blouse, and lay her against the skin of my chest. I take her blanket and head to the biggest couch, lying down with her on my chest and abdomen. She's so tiny. Her feet barely reach the middle of my belly.

I start to hum one of the songs my dad sang to lull me to sleep, and she slowly begins to settle down.

I kiss the top of her head when she sighs and starts to close her little eyes.

I take her tiny fingers and caress them until they're no longer so cold. Then I bring them to my mouth and blow warm breath on her little hand. She sighs again at the warmth on her skin.

"That's right, baby. Everything will be okay, I'll take care of you. I'm not going anywhere, sweetie. Sleep peacefully."

I kiss the top of her head and enjoy her exquisite baby scent. She is an adorable little one. I'm sure her dad melted with tenderness as soon as he saw her. Because even though he's our Capo and has to deal with his enemies, I'm sure he has a special place in his heart for this little treasure. Who could not fall in love with her?

I'll need to ask about her feeding schedule, the measurements for the milk, and especially, where there are special items for her. I'll speak to Anna before she wakes up.

I move as slowly as possible; I don't want to wake her. She looks so peaceful right now that I don't want anything to ruin her deserved moment of rest. Crying like that must be exhausting.

By her crib, I slowly move her away from my body and lay her down on the sheets, but before I can cover her up she opens her eyes and starts crying again.

"Here we go again."

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