𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 . 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓

𝐑É𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐌É𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔'𝐈𝐋 𝐘 𝐀 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐗.

1995;

Amidst the tapestry of time, a longing stirs within the depths of our souls. It seems that amidst the ceaseless dance of the present, we yearn for the familiarity of what has come before. We are but sailors, forever haunted by the sea we once sailed, yet often blind to the vast ocean that surrounds us now. The world may sway and tremble, but it is not always a tumultuous tempest. Even when the rain of the past poured upon us, we clung to the hope of reclaiming the innocence we once cherished, forever seeking solace in the shadows of our memories.

Viola found herself immersed in opulence, surrounded by wealth beyond measure. Yet, she couldn't help but question if this abundance was truly a luxury she could afford.

Were there those who viewed it as a burden, longing to shed the weight of their past selves, wishing to erase the memories that tethered them? Uncertainty clouded Viola's thoughts, leaving her unsure of the truth that lay beneath the surface.

She always sensed the shadows that loomed in the corners, even as they deepened with her growth. She possessed a keen awareness, never basking in a state of pure arrogant bliss. The murk was her constant companion, a reminder of the complexities that dwelled within.

But now, she was lost in the grandeur of the moment, basking in her own arrogance. The opulent manor's library embraced her. She reclined upon one of the plush couches, the scent of aged leather mingling with the musty aroma of old books. In her hands, she held a tome, the works of Honoré de Balzac.

"The secret of great fortunes without apparent cause is a crime forgotten, for it was properly done."

Viola, silently devoured the hidden knowledge within the book disguised as a potions manual.

As the library door swung open, Viola remained undisturbed, her body frozen in stillness. Her gaze lifted slowly to meet Victoriè's piercing eyes, sharp as a Scythe.

Viola's exasperated sigh escaped her lips, accompanied by a subtle roll of her eyes. "Yes, Grand-merè?" she inquired, her voice tinged with a palpable sense of ennui.

Victoriè wordlessly extended a penned letter to Viola. Viola's eyes traced the contours of the envelope, a glimmer of anticipation flickering within her as she recognized the familiar handwriting.

Viola received a letter from Sirius, and Victoriè now knew of it.

Viola stood tall, her posture straightening as she regained her composure. "Well, I'm expecting some sort of belittling from you. Go ahead, let it out," she challenged, her voice laced with a hint of defiance.

Victoriè's silence towards Viola had stretched on for over two weeks, a period that Viola found rather agreeable. In all honesty, she welcomed it. Victoriè allowed her to indulge in her mischievous tendencies behind closed doors, as long as Viola presented herself to the outside world as a member of a formidable dynasty, exuding power and commanding respect.

But Viola wasn't naive. She had an understanding that the facade Victoriè allowed her to embody came at a cost. Patiently, Viola bided her time, waiting to discern if the price was one she could truly afford.

"You are fortunate that I'm refraining from cornering you, as I should," Victoriè's voice dripped with icy disdain. "Yet, I choose to view this as an opportunity, a chance to stay one step ahead."