Chapter 1
The grand ballroom of the estate was bathed in bright, natural, cinematic lighting, entirely free of any dull or yellow tint. The brilliant white chandeliers cast a flawless glow over the elite crowd, illuminating the rich crimson drapery and the pristine marble floors. The guests, an assembly of powerful white American Mafia associates and capos, mingled in their tailored tuxedos and luxurious evening gowns. Their fair, rosy skin caught the pristine light as they drank champagne and conversed in sharp, standard American accents. It was a gala of absolute wealth and undeniable power, a world of excess that made the sudden arrival of two uninvited guests near the registration table all the more jarring.
Nora Bennett stood near the towering mahogany doors, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. At twenty-eight, she was breathtakingly beautiful by every American standard, her fair skin flushed with a mixture of terror and desperation. But she did not belong in this opulent setting. She wore a modest, inexpensive beige coat over a simple white blouse and plain dark trousers, her sensible flats a stark contrast to the glittering heels of the women around her. Her hand was wrapped tightly around the tiny fingers of her three-year-old daughter, Sophie. The little girl wore a faded, worn gray cardigan over a simple cotton dress, her white tights slightly scuffed above her small flats.
"Stay close to me, Sophie," Nora whispered, her voice trembling as she scanned the massive, crowded room. "We just need to find someone who will listen."
"It's too loud, Mommy," Sophie murmured, her rosy cheeks pale as she shrank against her mother’s leg, overwhelmed by the towering adults and the booming laughter.
Before Nora could take another step into the vibrant, brightly colored ballroom, a shadow fell over them. Helena D’Angelo materialized from the crowd like a striking viper. At sixty-seven, Roman’s mother was a terrifying vision of matriarchal authority. She wore a luxurious, floor-length emerald formal gown that dragged elegantly across the marble. Heavy pearl jewelry rested against her collarbone, and massive diamond rings adorned her manicured fingers. Her fair, powdered face contorted with absolute, vicious fury the moment she laid eyes on the young mother and child.
Without a word of warning, Helena lunged forward. Her ringed hand grabbed Sophie’s small, fragile arm with bruising force. She yanked the three-year-old away from the entrance, forcefully pushing the crying child back toward the heavy wooden doors.
"Hey! Get your hands off her!" Nora shouted, her maternal instinct overriding her fear. She immediately lunged forward, grabbing Sophie’s other arm and aggressively pulling her daughter away from the older woman's grip.
Helena straightened her posture, her eyes blazing with cold, aristocratic hatred. She leaned in close, ensuring none of the wealthy donors nearby could hear her venom.
"I told you never to come here," Helena hissed, her American accent dripping with absolute contempt. "You and this filthy mistake do not belong in this house."
May you like
"We are starving, Helena!" Nora cried back, her voice shaking violently. "We have nothing left! I don't care about your rules anymore, we need help!"
"You will get nothing," Helena spat, her rosy skin flushing darker. "Now get out, before I have the guards throw you onto the street."
