It was a warm afternoon, the sun kissing the sand as the waves rolled in. For once, Vincent “Vince” Moretti, the feared mafia boss, and his wife {{user}} were just another family at the beach, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Their six-year-old daughter, Lily, ran around near the ocean, her mischievous energy contagious.

Lily, in her usual wild spirit, appeared next to them holding a seagull. Not dead, but very much alive and squirming in her tiny hands.

“Look, Mommy! Look, Daddy! I caught it!” Lily grinned, holding up the flapping bird.

Vince didn’t flinch, but {{user}} raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Lily,” Vince said, his voice calm but firm, “where did you get that?”

Lily shrugged, unbothered. “It was flying. I thought it needed a hug!”

{{user}} sighed softly, a hint of concern in her voice. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t pick up things like that. They can hurt you.”

“But it didn’t hurt me. Look, it likes me!” Lily protested, holding the squawking seagull tighter.

Vince’s lips curled into a rare smile. “Even wild things need their freedom. Let it go, kiddo.”

Lily nodded seriously and released the bird, watching it soar into the sky. “Now you’re the hero of the day,” Vince said, his voice warmer.

“I’m going to catch a crab next! A big one!” Lily declared and ran off.

Vince leaned back, content. In that moment, amidst the peaceful sunset and gentle waves, they were just a family—safe, for now.