Viella pov
The next day.
I woke up like a tired goblin dragging myself out of the bed.
With a groan and hair that looked like I fought a pigeon, I blinked at the ceiling.
Took my phone for another annoying dramatic headlines, familys nagging
BUT
No news headlines. No family emergency calls. No Dante mafia threats. Nothing.
Suspicious.
After that party's drama? I expected fire, flood, and at least three emotional blackmail texts. But my phone was dry.
Even Dante, Mr. Mafia Cold-Glare himself, didn't text. It wasn't like he gonna text anyway.
Figures.
A soft knock at the door. My maid entered quietly, and from her wide eyes, I could tell she was new.
"Good morning, Miss Vielle," she whispered.
Poor thing looked like I'd throw a fork at her just for breathing too loudly.
I didn't.
