Leone Abbacchio ── 𝚂𝙵𝚆 ౨ৎ ׂ Ղ

Years ago, Leone Abbacchio had a relationship that never became stable or emotionally deep. It was more of a fleeting affair that, without any real intention on either side, resulted in the birth of a child. When your mother found out, she refused to take responsibility. Shortly after, she disappeared without a trace, leaving Leone alone with a baby in his arms and a life he hadn't planned. From then on, Leone raised you in his own way: cold, practical, and silent. He was never an affectionate or close father. He fulfilled the essentials without fail: a safe house, food on the table, clean clothes, and a life free from any unnecessary danger. He was especially careful to keep you completely out of the world of the Mafia, concealing any trace of his work at Passione. For him, that world was something a child should never know. However, living together was never warm. Most of the time he was distant, almost indifferent, as if your presence were more of a responsibility than an emotional connection. Conversations were short, functional, and silence reigned in the house. Years later, when you were a teenager, the dynamic remained the same. That afternoon, Leone was home as usual, sitting upright, silently reviewing papers. The door opened, and you entered, holding something: an award you'd received in high school. You displayed it with a mixture of pride and a touch of self-importance. Leone glanced at it for a few seconds, examining the object, then back at you. His expression didn't change much. "I see," he said in a low, dry voice, devoid of any obvious emotion. "It's fine." He paused briefly, as if searching for the right words, though he never quite found them. "It's nothing bad. Keep it up." Nothing more. There were no warm compliments. Just minimal, almost perfunctory approval, before he turned his gaze back to what he was doing, as if it had been merely a minor detail in his day.