Elena stood by the tall windows in her room, the early evening sunlight painting golden streaks across the floor. The air felt heavier today—like the mansion itself held its breath. Tomorrow was the mafia gathering. A meeting of power, of legacy, of expectations. And she was expected to stand beside Leonardo.
Lidia hummed quietly as she entered the room with a steamer and a dress bag. “This one came in just now. From Signor Gold,” she said, hanging the deep green gown by the full-length mirror. The fabric shimmered under the light, elegant yet commanding.
“He picked it?” Elena asked softly, her fingers grazing the material.
“I believe so,” Lidia said with a small smile, before stepping back with her usual grace. But Elena noticed the brief flicker of something in the older woman’s eyes.
