Dusk Till Dawn

Ricordi e Radicci

Freya sat by her window, staring blankly at the villa's vast gardens. The air outside was fragrant with the scent of blooming roses, but inside, the tension was suffocating. Domenico Moretti's voice, cold and booming, echoed through the halls, a constant reminder of her father's disdain. Freya had grown used to it, the icy glares, the indifference. Her mother, Margaret, was no refuge, trapped in her own world of silence and submission.

As Freya traced invisible patterns on the glass, the sound of footsteps caught her attention. It was the maid, holding an elegant, cream-colored envelope. The edges were embossed in gold, a sign of wealth and importance.

"Signora Freya, this came for you," the maid said, placing the letter gently on her desk.

Freya opened it slowly, her heart sinking as she recognized the family crest of the Amatos—Marco's family. They were everything the Morettis weren't—warm, loving, and above all, perfect. Her insecurities welled up as she read the invitation. It was for Marco's graduation party, a grand affair hosted by his parents in their sprawling estate.

She and Marco had been close for years, but despite that, Freya always felt a wall between them. His family's perfection was a constant reminder of everything hers lacked. She often wondered why he remained her friend. Perhaps he felt pity for her, stuck in a house ruled by a tyrant father who couldn't care less if she succeeded or failed.

The invitation felt like a cruel reminder of her inadequacy. Marco, with his cold and distant demeanor, never shared his thoughts or emotions, but his life seemed flawlessly put together. His parents adored him. Freya could never imagine Domenico even attending her graduation, let alone celebrating it.

She folded the invitation back into its envelope and let out a sigh. How could she possibly attend? She would stand out like a stain in a sea of elegance. Yet something inside her longed to go, to be near Marco, even if he made her feel small in comparison.

Freya adjusted the hem of her simple yet elegant dress as the car slowed to a stop in front of the Amato mansion. Her bodyguard, Antonio, opened the door for her, his presence a reminder of her father's overbearing control. She stepped out, her heels clicking on the polished cobblestones as she surveyed the grand estate. The Amatos' mansion was a towering display of wealth, with its sprawling marble façade and lush gardens illuminated by soft golden lights. As soon as she arrived, she felt the weight of eyes on her.

Whispers followed her.

"That's Freya Moretti."

"Domenico's daughter? The one he keeps locked away?"

"What is she doing here?"

Freya's stomach churned as she tried to ignore the curious glances and the subtle gossip that buzzed around her. She knew that wherever she went, her family's reputation preceded her. Domenico Moretti was feared, and by extension, so was she. But it wasn't fear she inspired; it was pity. The whispers always followed her, like a shadow she couldn't shake.

Before she could feel more overwhelmed, a familiar voice broke through the murmurs.

"Freya, darling!"

Zia Helen Amato, Marco's aunt, descended the steps to greet her. Helen was warm, unlike the others who watched from afar, her eyes soft with kindness. She embraced Freya with a smile that almost felt maternal.

"Come in, cara. Marco's in the garden with his friends," she said, gesturing to the path that led around the mansion. "It's lovely to have you here."

Freya managed a smile, but her heart was racing. Marco's parties were known for their glamour and excess, the kind of events where everyone showed off their status and wealth. She always felt out of place in these circles, even more so with Marco's indifference lingering in the back of her mind.