Third person's pov-

It had been four days but nobody had heard from Rebekah Russell.

Now, this wouldn't be a problem if this was the old Rebekah, because old Rebekah did not have any friends and no one that cared about her. Old Rebekah could die for all anyone cared and no one would miss her. But unfortunately for them, new Rebekah had friends. Friends who loved her and missed her. And friends who worried about her. Friends who were going crazy about her.

But after tirelessly calling and reaching voice-mail on their friend's phone, the group of five came to a daunting realization. Even after knowing Rebekah Russell for two months, they  knew absolutely nothing about Rebekah Russell. Where did she live? Who did she live with? Who was that mysterious brother of hers? Could they file a police complaint? What if  was not missing but simply at home? What if-

And as they sat in the cafeteria staring at each other's faces, Sandy absently thought she should have pestered her friend more that one Saturday night.

***

Miles from there, in a sterile hospital room lay a girl with thick bandages around her head. She was pretty, the nurses gossiped. With thick blonde hair and long lashes, the girl couldn't be older than seventeen surely. But no one waited for her in the waiting room, no one asked for her at the reception, no one prayed for her at the hospital church. Because no one knew who the mysterious Jane Doe was.

For the usually boring NY Memorial Hospital where days were quite monotonous, and nights tedious; decoding the identity of the stranger was the only excitement in the lives of the floor nurses.

The board room at the west wing of the hospital however were more productive than the women in white uniforms. After days of arguments and finding loopholes in the system, they finally came to a decision regarding the child as they wrapped up the meeting for the day.

"The girl will have a DNA test done within the day and we can contact the family within two days. Her being a minor is of no consequence because identification of a patient who is set to wake up not before 7 or more days trumps parental consent according to section 349 of Hospital Policies and Regulations mandated by the US Department of Health and Human Services ."

On hindsight, maybe Ryan should have investigated further when he couldn't find his dinner in place on Wednesday night.

***

Everyone in New York knew who Federico Costa was. Everyone in the business world knew who Federico Costa was. Everyone in the underworld knew who Federico Costa was.

His name wasn't plastered on banners and neither was his job. But it was just something everyone knew. You didn't need a Google search to know who he was because when you are nine and you live in New York, you will eavesdrop on a conversation by your parents and find out who Federico Costa was. It was just the way it was, how it had always been.

He owned everything, he ruled everything.

It was just the way of life, Susan's mom had justified to Susan's father. Susan then went back to school and taught everyone. No one believed her but when Brittany came to school a month later saying the same things, the class learnt a new lesson that day.

No one messes with a Costa.

So when the doctors at NY Memorial held the report displaying DNA results for the inconsequential Jane Doe lying in Room 302 of the huge building, Dr Stevens, celebrated neurosurgeon, known for his adept hands and stable fingers - which were awfully important in his specialty-  dropped the file as if it was on fire, no one was surprised.

"Call him.NOW."

No one had heard meek little Martha Webber shout before that day.

***

Federico enjoyed power. He enjoyed being the monster under a forty year old man's bed and he enjoyed lording their dirty secrets over their head. He enjoyed the rush and every little bit of fear that came with it. He enjoyed the thrill in his veins of knowing that he had absolute power over everybody.

But he did not enjoy it when some annoying dunderhead of a person kept wasting his time by stumbling over every two words. He was a busy man and the coward on the other end of the phone was going to lose a ear or two if his voice kept shaking, creating an annoying static over the phone.

When he spoke his voice was calm, but everyone knew that Federico Costa was a man who was anything but calm.

"Mr Xavier, I would really appreciate it if you could stop wasting my time. Send me an email if it's important but you know it is not wise to burn the minimum daylight of my day."

Roman Xavier could feel his daylight days coming to an end with every word the silky voice uttered on the other end of the line. Taking pity on her colleague, Martha Webber took the phone from the nervous surgeon.

"I am sorry about Dr Xavier's lack of professionalism Mr Costa. He's not having a very good day I'm afraid. This is Dr Webber calling on the behalf of NY Memorial. Six days ago a girl was involved in a crash which caused a small, aneurysm in her brain to burst. Since it was so small, it had never been diagnosed. But this led to internal bleeding in her brain-"

"I do not have all day Dr Webber, please arrive to the point."

"I'm sorry for wasting your time Mr Costa but it relates to your situation."

"Go on."

"The brain surgery was successful but due to the trauma, it will take her 7 days or more to wake up. We did not have any identification and according to hospital policies, with her being a minor, we sent a vial of her blood for DNA testing. We got back the results an hour back and it matches with ...uh...it matches to yours Mr Costa."

Martha did not know what to think when the call abruptly disconnected. She nervously gazed at her colleagues, all of whom had listened in on the call and silently cursed Roman for being such a wuss. Then maybe it would be him dying tonight and not her.

Oh how she wished she had taken over her father's business like her parents wished her to.

***

"They have her", were the words spoken into the Costa mansion as the family of seven sat with their backs straight staring intently at the head of the household.

No one spoke, not even a whisper but everyone knew who the girl spoken about was. Everyone knew what it meant. Everyone knew what it could mean. But they dared not hope.

"Who? Who has her?", spoke another voice. This one was more demanding, more urgent. But the undertones and promise of torture easily flowed through the urgency of the syllables.

"NY Memorial", the eldest Costa brother said as he eyed the rest of the clan, "I got a call about a girl in an accident who couldn't be identified. They had a DNA test done before contacting the closest match."

"You", breathed the tattooed brother of the bunch.

"Me", Federico repeated.

"We need to get our own DNA test done", everyone knew it wasn't needed. No one would intentionally risk their lives calling Federico Costa in the middle of the day with news they were not absolutely certain about. But despite that, everyone agreed.

It couldn't be. After all these years.

Disbelief was not an emotion the Costas felt commonly. They were epitome of confidence on a bad day and the embodiment of dominance on a good one. But this was not a normal day. This was a dream, an imagined reality no one had ever bothered entertaining except in the deepest, darkest part of their minds.

It couldn't be.

As the image of a small girl with a tuft of golden hair running around the backyard of the mansion  floated in front of Federico's eyes, the Italian don longed for something for the first time in a very, very long time. And when Federico Costa wanted something, you can count on him to get it.

"And what about the car who crashed into her?", smirked Declan Costa smiled a twisted smile. No one responded. They didn't need to.

Burning the world down was child's play, bringing it to her knees would be easier.

Oh if only Ryan had  investigated further when he couldn't find his dinner in place on Wednesday night.