Chapter 150
KATYA POV
"Mia cara!"
The voice breezed through the air, warm, familiar, and slicing straight through the tension hanging around like a storm cloud.
My head snapped up. Nonna was rolling toward the ballroom doors in her wheelchair, her bracelets chiming softly with every movent.
And for just a tiny bit mini second I forgot how to breathe.
Because... wow. I had never seen her like this.
Her gown was a deep sapphire blue, elegant and flowing, catching the golden lights from the ballroom and turning them into tiny sparks across the fabric.
A delicate shawl draped over her shoulders, her jewelry glinted softly. Pearls, gold, sothing that looked far too expensive for soone who scolded people for using too much detergent.
Her silver hair had been styled perfectly, pinned and curled in a way that made her look ten years younger, maybe twenty.
Soft, glowing makeup brightened her face, and she looked.....Regal.Beautiful.Important.
Like the grandmother of the man hosting the most extravagant engagent of the year. "Nonna..." I breathed, the word barely leaving my lips.
She looked like she belonged here. Like she was part of this glowing world. Part of the chandeliers and the music and the soft, rich laughter drifting through the doors.
And ?
I was the girl being asked what I was "doing here" by security guards.
Nonna’s sharp eyes landed on , bright and affectionate, sparking with sothing playful when she saw my frozen stance... and the sunflower dress.
She smiled wide, proud and knowing. "Ahh, look at you," she said, lifting her chin. "Bellissima. The dress fits you perfectly."
My face heated imdiately. "I—this? I just— I wasn’t going to—"
Words. Why did they abandon when she stared like that? Like I wasn’t out of place. Like I wasn’t a shadow.
"You look lovely," she declared, waving a hand in that dismissive way she had when she didn’t want to hear excuses.
"Bright. Fresh. Like sunshine." Her gaze drifted over again, softer this ti. "Like family."
The two guards beside stiffened slightly, their annoyance dying instantly as they dipped their heads in respect to her.
Of course they did. She had that effect. Nonna’s fingers tapped lightly on her wheelchair armrest. "Now co here," she said.
I hesitated, glancing at the guards again, unsure if I was even allowed to step closer.
But then Nonna raised one eyebrow—the dangerous one. "Don’t make roll to you," she warned.
I hurried forward, gripping the wheelchair handle to ease her struggle. Her hand reached out, warm and steady, and she stroke mine gently, as if grounding back into myself.
And for the first ti since stepping onto the fourth floor... I didn’t feel stupid.
Didn’t feel like an intruder. Didn’t feel like the enemy’s daughter who should’ve stayed hidden.
Instead, I felt... seen and safe. And weirdly, painfully grateful. I feel so stupid for thinking nonna didn’t care about . For thinking shit about her in this fuck up head of mine
Nonna’s eyes shimred with pride as she looked at again. "It is a big night for our family," she murmured. Our?
I wasn’t....i wasn’t blood related or even friend related. "Of course I must look my best."
I swallowed, nodding. "You... you look incredible," I admitted quietly. "I’ve never seen you dressed like this."
"Well," she said with a small shrug, "my grandson’s engagent does not happen every day. I cannot look like I am going to argue with the gardener over tomatoes."
A tiny laugh escaped . Nonna squeezed my hand once more, her voice dropping just enough for only to hear.
"And perhaps," she added, "you dressed up a little too... hmm?" Heat rushed to my face again. "I didn’t—I an, I wasn’t trying to—"
She smirked. Oh no. Nonna smirked.
"Mm," she humd, lifting her chin knowingly. "Of course not, mia cara. You simply wanted to... look."
I froze. She knew? No that can’t be? I don’t even know what I was doing for her to figure out what the hell....ok, I’m rumbling in my thoughts.
Her smirk widened and that was exactly when my brain slamd the ergency alarm.
Oh no. Nope. Absolutely not. Because I knew that look.
.
"Nonna," I said quickly, clearing my throat. "We should, um—go inside now. Before—before people start staring or, you know... before you say sothing and soone hears and—"
"Ah?" she tilted her head, eyes glittering with mischief. "Before I say what?"
Nope. Abort. Abort. Abort.
I tightened my grip on the wheelchair handles, already spinning her around. "Okay! Yes! Inside we go!"
Nonna let out a laugh—a full, bright, mischievous cackle that echoed WAY too much in the hallway.
The guards’ brows shot up. I pushed her faster.
"Mia cara," she said as I guided her into the ballroom, "you rush as if you have been caught stealing dolci from the kitchen!"
"Nonna, please," I whispered, absolutely mortified. My heart hamred as we crossed the threshold, and the guards stepped aside imdiately for her.
The second we fully crossed into the ballroom, my earlier frantic embarrassnt evaporated—because the room was... wow.
I’d only gotten that small glimpses before, because damn! Standing here now again, with the chandeliers blazing like captured stars and music humming through the marbled floor, it was impossible not to pause for a heartbeat.
The ballroom stretched wide and golden, warm lights catching polished surfaces, floral arrangents spilling pastel colors everywhere, and soft curtains draped like sothing stolen from a castle.
I now notice, a raised podium resting at the far end of the room, frad by cascading white roses and strings of crystal beads.
Two ornate chairs sat there, carved and elegant, almost throne-like for the Engager and his Engagée.
I guessed those were for them. The happy couple. The reason everyone here looked grood, glowing, and very wealthy.
People mingled, laughed, clinked glasses. Dresses shimred. Suits glead. And sowhere in the back of all that beauty, sothing inside tugged—soft and confused and extrely inconvenient.
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