Episode 4

When Antonella returned home, the sky was already tinged with orange and gold. The silence of the horse's footsteps contrasted with the turmoil inside her. Giancarlo's words still echoed like an enigma.

"I wouldn't waste my time with a woman I didn't consider for this."

"What is built in silence... lasts longer."

Words that suggested everything but confirmed nothing.

As soon as she handed the horse over to the care of one of the employees, she spotted the familiar figures of her sisters on the porch. Valentina was sitting, elegantly crossing her legs, a cup of tea in her hands. Bianca, standing, arms crossed, like a sentinel on the verge of attack.

"It's about time you came back," Bianca said, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Antonella just nodded, walking down the last steps calmly.

"So?" Valentina asked sweetly. "What did you two do? Stroll through the countryside like in an old romance?"

"He wanted to ride," Antonella replied, evasively.

"With you?" Bianca retorted, her voice sharp. "Just with you?"

Antonella held her sister's gaze, without showing weakness.

"Yes. With me."

Bianca took a step forward.

"Do you think that just because you took a ride with him, it means something? Giancarlo is calculating. He doesn't act on impulse. He talks to everyone. He's exploring options."

"What if I'm one of them?" Antonella retorted, in a calm but firm tone.

The provocation hit Bianca like a silent slap.

"You're not made for that world," she snapped, cruelly. "You're too fragile. Too sensitive. And Giancarlo Vitalle... doesn't love. He chooses what is useful. You're not useful, Antonella. You're a distraction. And he'll get tired of you."

Valentina, who had been quiet until then, intervened with a less venomous expression.

"Bianca... that's enough."

Bianca huffed and turned her back.

Valentina stood up and looked at Antonella with a half-smile – ambiguous, but less cruel.

"Don't believe everything Bianca says. But also don't believe everything he shows. Giancarlo is dangerous. And even if he chooses you... it comes with a price."

Antonella was silent.

Being invisible was lighter. Being noticed... was starting to hurt.

Hours later, alone in her room, Antonella sat at the window and watched the now empty field. The same field where he had seen her. Where he had chosen her with his eyes. Where he didn't say... but let her feel.

Her heart was divided: between fear and fascination, between running away and staying.

Between continuing to be a shadow... or accepting to be light.

Giancarlo

At every meeting, the same conversation.

"Giancarlo, Mancini's daughter would be a strategic choice."

"The Bianchi family is willing to offer land and commercial support."

"Ferreti's heir is educated in Florence, fluent in three languages."

"Romano's daughter is trained in etiquette and politics. A jewel."

Offers, promises, smiles disguised as interest.

And all with a clear objective: to marry their daughter to the Vitalle heir.

But none of them made Giancarlo even look up from the documents.

"They are selling me wives as if they were horses," he said, dryly, to his father, Don Alberto, after another afternoon of proposals.

The old boss laughed.

"This is the mafia, son. We marry for alliance. We choose with our heads, not with our hearts."

"I have enough head to know that none of these suit me."

Don Alberto crossed his arms, observing his son for a few seconds.

"Are you really inclined towards Rossi's youngest daughter?"

Giancarlo didn't answer. He just gave a sharp look.

"Antonella won't bring us power," said his father. "But maybe... balance."

Giancarlo stood up from the chair. He adjusted his jacket and replied calmly:

"Balance is more dangerous than poorly constructed power."

Don Alberto smiled, satisfied to see that his son, even enigmatic, had already made his choice. Even without announcing it.

In another corner of the city, in the Romano's house...

"He didn't respond to our proposal?" asked the matriarch, furious.

"He just said he's... considering it calmly," replied the messenger.

"Calmly? That's an insult!"

The news was spreading.

The Vitalle heir was undecided — or already too decided. And the name Antonella Rossi began to circulate among the corridors, between whispers and looks of contempt.

"Her? The quiet one?"

"Has he gone mad?"

"Is this pity or tactics?"

But none of them knew.

For Giancarlo, it was no longer about political choice.

It was about instinct. And instinct never errs.

At the end of the night, Giancarlo returned to the porch of the Vitalle mansion, holding a sealed letter. A cream-colored envelope, with his family's coat of arms in golden relief.

A formal invitation.

Addressed to Mr. Massimo Rossi and his family.

For a private dinner.

With the family and the heir of the Vitalle family.

***This work has been signed with NovelToon, and piracy such as reprinting without permission is strictly prohibited.***

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***