The Prototype

5. Control Denied

MARCELLUS

The knocking dragged me out of sleep hard and abrupt, the sound striking against the door with enough insistence to snap my eyes open. Vision came back slowly, the dim outline of the room resolving as I turned my head toward the clock on the nightstand, irritation settling in the moment I registered the time glowing back at me.

Five in the morning.

"What the hell is going on in this damn house," I growled under my breath, the words rough with sleep and annoyance as my jaw tightened.

The knocking came again, sharper this time, heavier, followed immediately by a voice I did not ignore.

"Arison Marcellus Gillian."

Madrina's voice carried through the door stern and unmistakable, every syllable weighted with displeasure. I pushed myself upright, the sheets falling away as I reached for my robe, pulling it on as I crossed the room. The floor cool beneath my feet, the house itself too loud for the hour, which told me whatever this was already crossed a line.

I opened the door.

"Yes, Madrina," I answered evenly, posture straightening out of instinct.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, eyes already searching my face, sharp and assessing.

I exhaled through my nose, tension settling into my shoulders as I met her gaze. "I do not even know what you are referring to, Godmother," I said, keeping my tone measured despite the irritation already crawling up my spine.

Her expression did not soften.

"I see that," she replied coldly, stepping closer into the threshold. "But the fact that Tempest is being rushed to the hospital grounds of the estate because she had no pulse after drowning herself in her bathtub is not something I will overlook. Water is everywhere, Marcellus, and you know how I feel about damage happening to this house."

My jaw clenched hard.

This fucking hell of a woman.

"So you will explain to me why this has happened," Madrina continued, her voice lowering but growing more dangerous with each word. "How this has happened."

I stood in the doorway, the early morning air heavy between us, trying to read exactly where her anger was rooted. Whether it was the water damage itself, soaking into marble and wood she had personally chosen and overseen, or whether it was the deeper offense of someone attempting to end their life yet again under this roof.

Seraphina Galileli was not a woman to be dismissed lightly. The nurturer of this estate, the reason it runs with precision instead of chaos. The one who made sure every building was spotless, every meal prepared on time, every event executed flawlessly. She's Madrina for a reason. She was the mother of all, whether she had raised you or not, and the heart of this Villa beat because she demanded it do so.

And now that heart was clearly furious.

Her eyes held something sharper than frustration, something that cut closer to disappointment, and the look stirred an old memory of my own mother's face when displeasure crossed into concern. A look I had not seen often, but one that carried weight when it appeared.

"I have allowed this to go on for too long," Madrina said, crossing her arms as she studied me. "I do not know what happened or why, but Gia and Gabby have explained everything they could to me, and I am seeing a pattern whether you want to admit it or not."

Her gaze did not waver.

"Either you have told or triggered that woman into constantly wanting to kill herself," she continued, voice firm, "because it seems to me this has only happened after encountering you. When she spoke with Gia, Gabby, and Sapphire, she was perfectly fine when she first arrived. You were not here then."