The house was quieter than usual, but it wasn't peaceful.
It was deliberate.
Staff moved like shadows through the hallways. Fresh flowers replaced the ones from three days ago. The long dining table was being reset — different centerpiece, deeper-toned candles, heavier cutlery. Even the wine selection had changed.
Luciano stood near the window of his study, watching the grounds below. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture straight, expression unreadable.
Behind him, Nadia adjusted her earrings in the reflection of a glass cabinet.
"You're making this bigger than it needs to be," she said gently.
Luciano didn't turn. "No. I'm clarifying something that should already be clear."
"And what is that?"
"That my son understands the weight of his choices."
Nadia's eyes softened, but she said nothing more.
In her room, Valentina stood in front of her closet, flipping through dresses slowly.
Dario leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"You're dressing up for the poor girl?" he asked lazily.
Valentina didn't look at him. "I'm dressing appropriately."
Leo appeared behind him, amused. "You've spent more time with her than Adrian has this week."
Valentina paused, then turned slightly. "That's because someone has to make sure she doesn't drown."
Leo smirked. "Or maybe you just enjoy the charity case."
Valentina's smile didn't falter — but it sharpened slightly. "You mistake kindness for weakness too often."
Dario shrugged. "We'll see how long this lasts."
When they left, Valentina turned back to the mirror.
For a second — just a second — her expression dropped.
Not cruel.
Not kind.
Just calculating.
Then it was gone.
Adrian stood in his room, jacket draped over his arm. He stared at his reflection longer than usual.
This dinner wasn't about food.
It was about positioning.
And he hated that Gia didn't fully understand that yet.
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Gia stood in front of the mirror, holding two dresses up to her body.
One was soft blue — simple, elegant. Something she'd pick back home.
The other was one of the dresses Valentina helped her choose. Darker. Sharper. It fit differently. Carried weight.
She stared at herself for a long moment.
Then she set both down.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her phone.
She didn't call Mia.
She called her mother.
The line rang twice.
"Hi, cupcake," Sarah answered, her voice warm as ever.
Gia's throat tightened instantly. "Hi, mama."
There was a pause. The kind mothers recognize.
"What's wrong?" Sarah asked softly.
Gia sank onto the edge of the bed. "Nothing's wrong. I just… I have dinner tonight. At his house. With his whole family."
Sarah went quiet.
Not alarmed.
Just thoughtful.
"And?"
"I'm scared," Gia admitted. "They're… different. His father looks at me like I don't belong in the same room as him."
Sarah inhaled slowly. "Baby, people with power don't like what they can't place. And you? You're not something they can label easily."
Gia blinked. "That's not comforting."
Sarah chuckled softly. "It's not supposed to be. It's supposed to be true."
Gia looked at her reflection again.
"What if I embarrass myself?"
"Then you embarrass yourself," Sarah said simply. "And you get up. You fix it. And you keep going."
Gia smiled faintly. "You make it sound easy."
"It's not easy. It's just life."
There was a small silence.
Then Sarah added, quieter now, "Don't shrink yourself to make anyone comfortable. If they can't handle you as you are, that's their limitation. Not yours."
Gia swallowed.
She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that.
"I love you, mama."
"I love you more. Now go knock them dead. Politely."
Gia laughed softly.
When the call ended, she stood again in front of the mirror.
This time, she picked up the dark dress.
She wasn't confident.
She wasn't fearless.
But she was going.
And that would have to be enough.