Mio Sole

20 [Aurora]

**June 23rd, 11pm**

   The drive back to Giovanni's house is quiet as I sit in the passenger seat. If Alaric knows what happened in the backseat earlier, he doesn't show it.

   We'd dropped the guys off at Aleksandr's house a few minutes before, and a whispered promise in Niklaus' ear that I would return the favor had turned his cheeks completely red. The astonished look on his face—and the memory of what we did—still plays in my mind on repeat. One of the gifts and curses of having hypermnesia.

   I'd told Archer where I was when the interview was over, and he had warned me that our mother had already gone to bed, but requested (demanded) my presence at breakfast in the morning.

   We pull into the driveway a few moments later, and Alaric mumbles a soft goodbye as I get out and make my way to my room as quietly as possible. Archer's door is open when I walk by, and throwing my shoe at him is the only greeting I give, and it hits him in the shoulder. He responds by throwing a pillow at me, but I block it with my door as I slip into my room.

~~~
**June 24th, 9am**

   My phone pinging softly next to my head wakes me up, revealing a brief summoning from Salvatore. Apparently, she wanted all of us at breakfast this morning.

I throw on a sage green sundress and add a matching beret atop my freshly curled hair. It's gotten longer since I arrived, and even with the soft curls it now hangs past my waist. I throw on my boots next and lace up the strings.

I stuff my phone into a hidden pocket in the skirts of the dress and make my way quickly downstairs. When I push open the doors to the dining room, 11 heads immediately snap in my direction.

"We already said Grace," Gabriel says as I take my seat between Emiliano and Archer. I'm assuming that's his way of saying I'm late, and send a snarky smirk in his direction before kicking his leg. Unfortunately, I accidentally kick Raffaele's instead, and he sends a glare in my direction as he jerks back.

Finally, I turn my gaze to the woman sitting at the head of the table opposite of Giovanni. Her eyes are assessing as her gaze roves over me, snagging on the beret. "You need a haircut," she says, her voice tainted by a posh accent that I can only describe as bitchy. "Nobody likes unkempt hair. We'll have to make you an appointment soon to get it treated."

Across this table, Raffaele snickers at her judgement. When I kick him this time, it wasn't an accident. And I may or may not have kicked him somewhere a bit higher than his shin.

I lean back in my seat as Raffaele doubles over in his own with a pained grunt, trying to hide my smirk. The woman doesn't miss a beat before continuing, "And sit up straight. Bad posture is unbecoming of a young lady."

I flick a purposeful gaze to the drop of syrup spilled on her low-cut wrap dress, and the painted blush on her cheeks turns brighter as she reaches for a napkin. "Not that you bothered to introduce yourself, Beatrice, but it's nice to meet you."

   Her gaze is cold as she turns her eyes back to mine. "I am your mother. You will not address me by my first name. It's disrespectful."

   "Until you have done something to earn my respect, Beatrice, I will not treat you as if you have." She opens her mouth, and I can already hear the I am still your mother about to leave her lips. "We may be related, but you did not raise me. You are not family to me."

   My words strike true, if her equally surprised and pained expression is anything to go off of. I reach for the utensils in the middle of the table and start to pile my plate high. I don't have the courage to look over at Archer and see the matching expression I know will be on his face. My words weren't meant for him, but he no doubt took them to heart. He always does.