Silhouette

Part 5

As soon as I entered the mansion, I was awestruck by its interior. The grandeur took my breath away, but there was something about the opulence that felt unsettling as if the space itself was cold and unwelcoming. Mr. Cran led the way with his imposing bodyguards flanking me on either side, their presence a constant reminder that escape was not an option.

When we reached the mansion's entrance, a butler approached with a practiced smile and a respectful bow. "Welcome. They are waiting for you," he said.

Mr. Cran nodded in acknowledgment, then glanced back at me. "Bundle up, buttercup. It's showtime." His nickname brought a brief flicker of warmth to my heart, evoking memories of gentler times. But the comfort was fleeting, overshadowed by the looming dread of what awaited.

With a heavy sigh, I followed him into the living area. My heart raced, each beat echoing my anxiety. The living room was vast, with high ceilings and richly decorated furnishings that spoke of wealth and power. As we approached, the guards remained stationed outside, their stern expressions showing no hint of emotion. The heavy oak door closed behind us with a solid thud, sealing us in.

Inside the room, the air felt thick with tension. I saw two people I despised beyond imagination. One was seated elegantly on the couch, while the other stood with his back to me, maintaining a straight posture.

Mr. Cran lingered near the door, his role clearly defined. I moved cautiously into the room and stopped, trying to steady my trembling nerves. I offered a tight-lipped smile and took a shaky breath before greeting them.

"Good evening, Nonna... Signore Rossi," I said, nodding politely.

As he heard me, Signore Rossi turned around with a wide smile and greeted me. He was a handsome man, even in his late fifties, with a fit posture and a perfectly tailored suit. However, his aura radiated dominance and a chilling dark energy. Beneath his refined exterior was an aura of cold dominance that made my skin crawl. He exuded a dark energy that was both captivating and terrifying. This man terrified me beyond measure—he was cunning and cruel. Both of them were, living up to their roles. It was an understatement to say they were my grandparents, but it was the reality. My grandfather preferred to be addressed by his title, and I was fine with that because he deserved to be called "Signore Rossi" rather than "Nonno." As for Bianca Rossi, she liked to live in her own world, assuming everything was as perfect as she was. That's why she insisted on being called "Nonna." She sat on an elegant, high-backed couch, her posture regal and composed. Her presence was a blend of sophistication and icy distance, the sort that commands respect but also elicits unease.

"My daughter, I hope New York is to your liking," Rossi said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

I managed a small smile and a nod, but my gaze quickly dropped. I couldn't bear to look directly at him; his empty, penetrating eyes were too much to endure.

"Come, my dear, sit with me," Nonna said, her voice smooth yet carrying an edge. I hesitated only a moment before taking a seat beside her. Rossi settled into a large, ornate chair positioned prominently in the center of the room. It was a chair befitting a king, underscoring his status and control.

"May I ask why we are having this unexpected meeting?" I asked, trying to maintain politeness despite the strain in my voice. My tone, however, betrayed my discomfort. Rossi arched an eyebrow, and I quickly looked to Nonna for distraction.

"Always so impatient. I don't know where you get that from, but it's certainly not from our side of the family. Must be from that woman you call mother," Rossi spat with disdain.

"If you're going to insult my mother, I'm leaving." I started to rise, but as soon as I did, Nonna's hand clamped down on mine with a grip that was both forceful and painful.