Episode 9

The following morning, Sun awoke with a considerable headache. The blow she'd sustained must have been significant, but she was, nonetheless, filled with excitement.

Just the thought of having free rein with those shrews lifted her spirits.

Rosita: Good morning, Sun. Your bath is ready for you.

Sun: Thank you, Rosita. I can bathe myself, do not fret. Please prepare the blue dress for me, the longer of the two.

Rosita: Are you certain about wearing that, Miss? Your father might get upset.

Sun: Worry not, Rosita. I don't know why, but I feel like something's happened to the Duke; he’s not as I remember him. So, I must determine how much luck I’ve cast.

Rosita sighed with frustration; it was a risk, and she did not want the Duke to shout or hit Sun as he had done before. However, she could do no more since Sun had disposed of all the old dresses.

Rosita: Very well, Miss, but please, do not provoke the Duke.

Sun: Yes, yes, I got it.

Sun made her way to the bath, while Rosita set about finding the new dress. This was the first step toward setting a new trend. She knew it couldn't be too revealing, as too drastic a change wouldn’t serve her goals, but exploring a middle ground seemed a wise course of action. Macky, in her life as a drug lord, had been quite strategic in sales and distribution—she had her illegal dealings but also legit businesses used for laundering money. Many might think those businesses were mere fronts, but they operated just like any other, which is where she learned about business, transactions, marketing, among other things that would now serve her well. Not one to excel in the kitchen, the concept of opening a restaurant with avant-garde cuisine as she read in another novel wouldn't work for her—after all, she might burn even water. Investing, updating, and expanding prominent businesses were more her speed in this era.

Sun emerged from her bath, drying off with a soft fabric that served as a towel, casually walking in her new undergarments, leaving Rosita wide-eyed and flushed with embarrassment, but she held her tongue.

Sun: How beautiful my dress is, I never imagined wearing something like this. I was all about jeans, boots, hats… Yee-haw!—darn, got a little carried away there, she thought.

Rosita: What are you talking about, miss? What is 'Yee-haw'?

Sun: Ah... It's a word I made up from a cowboy novel I read.

Rosita: Cowboys? Sun, I think you should avoid such novels.

Sun: Well, I meant mercenaries, but let's drop it. Now help me fasten the dress—there’s a saying back home: you can leave Mexico, but Mexico never leaves you. She sighed.

Sun: This is magnificent; I don't feel sweaty at all—quite the breeze here, ha! Let's go, Rosita, I'll greet the Duke, I mean, my father and his guest.

Rosita simply nodded, following Sun out after locking the room. She would not risk that harpy eyeing Sun's quarters or, worse yet, finding the photograph of her mother.

Sun, adjusting her posture, stood firm with her chin raised before descending the stairs with great elegance.

In the sitting room, the Duke, the Duchess, and her daughter awaited.

Sun: A good morning to you, father, and…

She paused, unsure of the identity of the two women accompanying the Duke, as they had not been introduced the night before.

Sebastian: Good morning, my daughter. Come here, I must introduce you to my wife and her daughter.

Sun was astounded—not by the use of 'daughter,' the endearing tone, or nostalgia in his voice, but because he wasn't taken aback by her untraditional dress. The ones obviously astonished were the two women Sun was all too familiar with, though she feigned surprise.

Good morning, my dear daughter, I am Duchess Maricela D'angelo, and this is my daughter, Sandra, your new sister.

Sun: Dearest stepmother, it's a pleasure. Pardon my question, but… A glint of mischief sparkled in Sun's eyes. Is your daughter mute? You introduced her, and yet she hasn't uttered a single word.

The women's faces twisted in an instant, but they managed to maintain composure. Yet, the mockery in Sun's eyes was unmistakable; she was relishing this.

Sandra: I apologize, Miss Sun; I'm just a bit shy. My name is Sandra D'angelo.

Sun: Father, I'm getting quite hungry. Shall we dine?

Sebastian: Of course, my child, let's proceed to the dining room.

The family moved to the dining room, where Sun seated herself beside her father, displacing the Duchess who settled herself across the table after a silencing glance from the Duke.

The sight was bewildering for all the household staff; Sun, who in her fifteen years had never experienced such a scene, held the focus of the room.

Sebastian: Starting tomorrow, you will train with the sword alongside me. You will be my successor, and I will accept no refusal.

Sun was rendered speechless, her emotions a tempest, evoked memories of her father's words in her past life upon naming her the successor of his empire, then collected herself, thinking, "Wasn't I meant to be the villain, but with all these changes, the Duke's the true scoundrel?"

Sebastian: Sun, are you listening?

Her eyes glinted, underlining her turmoil, but she quickly regained her composure and affirmed.

Sun: Yes, father, I will make you proud, I swear it.

Her voice wavered slightly, harboring the hope that her father, wherever he might be, was at peace.

"Hopefully, you've read a novel, dear father, and may life, God, or the devil—whoever led me here—grant you a new beginning." Sun thought to herself.

*Hope you enjoy this chapter\, see you tomorrow.*

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