Dinner on Friday

32. Dante

CONFESSION

We pulled up at the mansion and a familiar dread settled on my chest. The one person I didn't expect to see today was on the steps in front of the door waiting for me.

Bound to a wheelchair, Aunt Elena sat with her hands crossed in her lap. Her condition was a testament to what happened to women in the Caneos family. A reminder that they were our weakest link.

As I got closer, I noticed that Elena's once vibrant spirit seemed subdued, her frame fragile. yet her eyes held a sharpness that hadn't dulled with time.

In a dark grey suit with a light blue scarf delicately draped around her neck, Aunt Elena presented an image of strength despite her physical vulnerability. The edges of her hair had grayed rapidly, causing her to appear much older.

Her eyes were trained on Schipper for a long time. She watched the man intently before focusing on me, a mixture of warmth and weariness flickering in her eyes.

I stopped at the bottom of the steps. "Aunt Elena," I acknowledged with a nod, my tone echoing both respect and an undercurrent of concern.

"I've been expecting you," she stated.

I looked at Bruce, Vlad, and Schipper who were standing behind me like soldiers ready for battle. Turning back to Aunt Elena, I didn't waste any time. "Do you know where my wife is?"

She shook her head. "I do not. That's not why I was expecting you. Mathias said he was going to convince you to take over Annabella's position as the clan boss. I figured you would want to talk to your sister. Your father?"

"Did my uncle say anything about Carla?"

"Not to me. He left here talking about not having an heir. He sounded angry. Bitter." Elena rearranged her scarf and then spun her chair around. "Let's go inside. Your sister and your father are waiting in the living room."

The bodyguards followed me inside. It wasn't like I didn't trust my family, but I knew that the clan was more important to them than anything else. And for Anna, the threat of losing her position as Donna was enough to turn her against me.

"I guess this family meeting is fucking happening," I muttered as Elena led the way with her wheelchair.

"We told you, should have walked with flowers," Bruce said. "The kind you can bring to a wedding, birthday, or a funeral. Hard to tell which one this is going to be."

"If my sister tries anything, kill her."

Bruce stopped walking. "You don't mean that."

I just looked at him and kept on walking. He knew I wouldn't say something like that if I didn't mean it.

The big man inclined his head. "As you wish."

One of the maids tried to take our coats, but one glance at our faces and she backed away, a stiff smile filled with fear on her face.

The living room where I grew up was three times the size of an Olympic swimming pool. A massive L-couch filled up most of the space. The large fireplace accompanied by soft light from several lamps in various shapes and sizes added a cozy element to the opulent furniture.

My father and sister stood up when I walked in. Annabella's son whose name I couldn't remember was playing on the carpet in front of the couch. I felt bad for not knowing the boy's name.

I sighed. Maybe I should do better as an uncle. This kid didn't ask to be in this mess. Nor did he have anything to do with Annabella's treachery.

My bodyguards took up positions around the room. I noticed the way Annabella scanned each one of them as if they were filthy dogs trampling on her Persian carpet with muddy paws. Behind that general judgment, I picked up on something else.