Chapter 41: What Tragedy?
Gia’s POV
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I turned away from the window and walked toward the mirror. My reflection stared back, dark hair, wavy and full, the curls I had brushed out from last night giving the strands more volume.
I ran my fingers through them, frizzing them lightly until they fell in soft waves around my shoulders. I had no makeup on, yet my face still looked fresh, almost radiant.
My dress was a halter–neck, floral and flowing, perfect for sunny morning.
Satisfied, I straightened, smoothed the fabric down, and made my way out of the room.
The moment I stepped out, my eyes fell on the same guard who always stood stationed by my door every morning. He was tall and lean, but bulky in the places that mattered. His stance told me he could throw a punch that would crush bones. He had neatly cut red hair that made him stand out among the others Dante had introduced to me.
It struck me that I had never once spoken a single word to him. If my plan was going to work, if I was ever going to escape, I needed to know each of them, their names, their habits, their weaknesses.
So I turned back, plastering on a cheerful smile, and pitched my voice higher than usual.
“Good morning!” I chirped.
The guard’s brows raised. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he gave a stiff nod, clearly not expecting me to engage him.
I tilted my head, extending my hand toward him. “We haven’t officially been introduced. You weren’t among the men Dante paraded in front of me.”
He was reluctant, but eventually he placed his hand in mine and nodded again.
“You can talk back, you know.” I leaned in playfully. “I might look tough, but I don’t bite. And I promise, I wouldn’t try to take you down.”
That earned me what I wanted. His composure shifted, and he grinned before he could stop himself.
“See?” I pointed at his lips. “You smiled, even if it was just for a second.”
His expression hardened again, but I didn’t back down.
“I’d love to know your name. And if you don’t tell me…” I lifted my brows, feigning mock seriousness. “I won’t stop asking every morning when I step out of this room.”
The corner of his lips twitched again, as though fighting against a smile. Finally, with a rough exhale, he shook
his head.
“It’s Alfonso. Nice to meet you, Miss Gianna.”
“Just Gia,” I corrected softly, eyes dancing.
Humming under my breath, I started down the hall, pretending to have excitement bubbling inside me that I didn’t feel. But then it hit me, I had no idea where I was going.
The corridor stretched farther than I expected, the sheer size of the house dawning on me. This wasn’t a house. It was a castle.
I stopped and turned back, flashing Alfonso an almost sheepish smile.
“Do you mind telling me the way to the kitchen?”
Chapter 41 What Tragedy?
He studied me for a beat before replying, “Take the stairs. Down the end, to the left.”
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“Thank you,” I replied sweetly. With another smile, I resumed humming my way down the stairs, every step intentional, every note designed to make me look harmless,
The morning air was cool as I padded into the kitchen, and just as I hoped, I found Mira and Grace there. Mira stood at the counter, chopping vegetables, her dark hair falling over her face as she focused.
“Ah, I knew I’d find you here,” I said, my voice light and cheerful.
Mira looked up, wide–eyed. The knife in her hand slipped against the cutting board, nearly tumbling from her fingers.
“Gia… I didn’t expect to see you up this early. Let alone in the kitchen.” Her voice stuttered with surprise.
I walked playfully toward her, tilting my head.
“Good morning to you, Mira. I woke up feeling good, and I thought, how about I come down to help with breakfast?”
Before she could respond, Grace appeared behind her. I hadn’t noticed her there before. Her face was alert and calm as always, but the frown etched in her forehead was noticeable.
“No, no, Gia,” Grace said firmly, striding closer. “Don Dante would be furious if he found you here cooking.” Her hand came to rest on my shoulder, gentle yet insistent. “How about you go back to your room, and once breakfast is ready, I’ll come fetch you?”
I turned to face her, refusing to step back.
“I insist on helping, Grace. Since I came to this house, I’ve been trapped in my room most of the day. And since there’s no escaping my new reality, it’s better I begin embracing it. This seems like a good place to start.”
Grace’s lips parted as if to object, but I cut her off.
“Grace,” I said softly but firmly, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
A silence stretched between us as though she was contemplating. Then Mira’s voice broke through.
“Mom,” Mira’s tone was stronger, “I think it’s a good idea. I can’t imagine what Gia must be going through, feeling trapped in this estate with no friends or anyone she knows. This is a good way for her to bond with us.” She glanced at me, her eyes holding a spark of sympathy. “I’ll help her settle in faster.”
Grace studied us both, her mouth tightening before she finally let out a reluctant sigh. “Fine. But no one says a word to Don Dante.”
Mira and I exchanged a quick look, then spoke in unison, light and conspiratorial.
“Our lips are sealed.”
Grace pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling a weary sigh “Alright, fine. But if Don Dante finds out…” Her gaze shifted toward her daughter. “Mira, you better not encourage her too much.”
“Mom,” Mira said softly, almost pleading, “it’s just cooking.”
Grace shook her head but gave in, muttering under her breath as she reached for a basket. “Fine. I’ll step out back and get some fresh herbs. Don’t burn down the kitchen while I’m gone.”
I clapped my hands softly, eager to move before Grace could change her mind. “Okay, perfect. I’ll chop these…” I reached for a bowl of carrots on the counter, rolling one between my palms. “While Mira handles something else. Deal?”
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Mira nodded and passed me a knife. “Here, then. I’ll take the herbs.”
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She began plucking at the leaves, but I noticed she kept glancing my way from the corner of her eye. I watched her eyes follow my hands as I chopped the carrots into neat little squares. Cooking had always been a way to keep me occupied when my father left me alone. It had become more than a hobby, a kind of refuge, a rhythm I could trust.
Finally, I dropped the knife with a soft clatter and gasped. “You’ve been staring… and not a word. So, what is it?”
Mira blinked, surprised. “I’m… just shocked. You know how to chop?”
I raised an eyebrow, playful. “What, did you think I was useless?”
She let out a little laugh. “Honestly… yes.‘
“Why would you think that?” I asked, folding my arms.
She shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “Don… Dante told Bruno that you were practically a princess who lived in a castle built by your father. So I expected you to have maids and cleaners and all that.”
I let that sit, then admitted with a grin, “Oh, we had it all. But I liked cooking. It kept me busy.”
Mira’s mouth twitched. “I hate cooking. I do it because I have to help my mom. But someday I’ll do what I want.”
“What would that be?” I asked, leaning in.
She chuckled, a small bright sound. “I want to be a musician. Tour the world.”
“You sing?” I asked, surprised.
Her face warmed. “I’ve been told I have the voice of an angel, but my mom forbids it. She says it’s a loose life, and the darkness in that world would win.”
I smiled, honest for once. “I’d love to hear you sing, right now, if you don’t mind.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t want my meat to be the meat in the soup. Another time, without my mom.”
I chuckled then reached out to reassure her. “One day, it’ll all work out. Just wait.”
She nodded, gratitude in her eyes. This was exactly what I wanted, a way to get closer and dig deeper.
“So,” I said after a moment, keeping my tone casual, “your mom seems really loyal to Dante. Have you two always worked for him?”
Mira’s knife slowed. Her eyes shifted to me, cautious. “Always.” She hesitated, then added softly, “My mom’s loyalty… it’s everything. Sometimes I don’t even know if it’s fear or love.”
I tilted my head, acting innocent. “May I ask why that is?”
Her lips pressed together. Eventually she shrugged. “Because Don Dante saved us.”
“Saved you?” I prompted.
She nodded, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “My father wasn’t a good man. He worked for the opposition, those who stole from Don Dante’s family and betrayed them. When they caught him, Dante could’ve killed us all. Instead, he took us in. He let my mother work here and sent me to school. We owe him everything, our lives, our safety.”
I paused mid–chop, looking at the bright orange coins scattered on the board. So Dante wasn’t a monster, at least not entirely. Beneath that ruthless exterior, there was a man who knew how to show mercy.
Chapter at What Tragedy?
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I forced my lips into a soft smile, keeping my tone light. “That’s… surprising. I mean, Dante comes across so hard, so difficult. Has he always been that way?”
Mira gave a small, sad laugh. “You have no idea. He hasn’t always been this way.” Her eyes grew distant. “If you had seen him years ago… before the tragedy.”
My knife stopped. “Tragedy? What tragedy?”
Mira’s shoulders tightened as if she wanted to speak, then she cut herself off with a breath. Then, almost under her voice, she said, “After her…”
The word fell between us, creating suspense. Mira’s face drained as if she had just burned her tongue, and she shook her head, as though she hadn’t meant to say it at all.
“Her?” I leaned in. “Who…?”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
